I ate the short distance between us, plucking her right out of her chair to give her a tight bear hug. She squealed in my ear, hugging me back just as tight.
“Happy to see you,” I murmured into her hair.
“Me too,” she sighed.
“Don’t think you should be wearing such short skirts in December.”
That made her laugh. “Says the man without a shirt.” Her fingers stroked straight down my spine for emphasis.
I pulled back, keeping my hands on her shoulders so she’d stay close. “If I’d been wearing a shirt, I would have just made a mess of it.”
She pressed her lips together, but her flushed cheeks betrayed whatever reaction she was trying to hold back. “I waswonderingwhat you were doing in there for so long.”
I twined one of her curls around my finger. “No you weren’t, you monster. You knew exactly what that picture was going to do to me. Don’t tell me you’re not feeling proud of your results.”
Her shoulder lifted, and she gave me a coquettish shrug. “Maybe.”
I rubbed the top of her head. She hated when I did that. Had lectured me once for five solid minutes about not touching a woman’s hair—especially one with curls. Since I’d been around her more than once on a wash night and had seen all the work she put into it, I should’ve known better. But I kind of liked when she got mad at me, so I kept doing it.
Yeah, I was a jackass, but she kept me anyway.
“You ready to get out of here? Head to dinner with the rest of the hooligans?”
We were doing a family dinner with TSC and everyone’s significant others to celebrate the end of the short tour and exchange lumps of coal before Christmas next week. Baddie was as significant to me as it came, so she was my plus-one, but she’d be getting something better than a lump of coal from me.
She snagged her jacket and hooked it over her shoulder. “I’m ready. You might need a shirt, though.”
I ran a hand down my chest, feeling the thump of my heart. It was having a lot of trouble calming down, even after calming my dick.
“Yeah. Think you might be right.”
The minute we were escorted into the private room at the restaurant, I lost Adelaide to Iris. The women—Iris, Baddie, Hope, June, and Wren—were huddled on one side of the large circular table, the men on the other. Callum managed to sit his ass right beside Wren anyway, but I was far, far away from my plus-one. Iris winked at me, conveying in no uncertain terms this was her doing. Straight-up menace, that woman.
I was cranky about it too. I’d been with these motherfuckers for two weeks straight. Baddie was the only one I wanted to sit beside. And she always let me steal from her plate, which would be really hard to do when I couldn’t reach her.
“Adelaide Zala Goodman,” I called.
She cupped her mouth to amplify her voice. “Yes, Adam Drexel Wainwright?”
“What are you doing way over there?”
She giggled. “I’m waiting for my dinner. What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting for your dinner so I can eat it. Did you order me something good?”
She shook her head. “You’re not getting a single bite.”
Iris scowled at me, curling her arm around Adelaide’s shoulders. “Leave her alone, Wainwright. You’re interrupting Adelaide telling us about the guy she’s dating.”
That was news to me. She never talked about guys with me. I guess I’d been stupid to assume that meant she wasn’t seeing anyone, especially since she swore she wasn’t keeping a secret boyfriend from me. “Adelaide’s dating a guy?”
“I’m not dating a guy. I went on two dates,” she corrected.
Stomach. Sank. What the hell? She’d gone on two dates and hadn’t mentioned it?
“And?” I rolled my hand. “Share with the class. Is there a future with this mystery man?”
“No.” Her answer was clipped. Her eyes were anywhere but on me.