Page 23 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

She has to work hard to hide her grin. She’s so beautiful right now when she’s being devious. She’s about to throw all sorts of sass at me, and my dick likes it far more than he should. “For you, it’s twenty-five hundred.”

“Oh. Because I’m special.”

“Yeah.” Her lips wobble, but she holds onto her mostly serious expression. “Twenty-five dollars is for regular people. You’re probably ten times as rich as the average person, so…”

“Ummm…”

“It’s for a good cause, and a few grand would go a long way.” This time, she’s not hiding a smile. She’s serious. I wonder how well the fundraiser went if she’s here asking me for this without appearing to be seriously asking me. “It’s totally tax deductible.” She traces the tabletop with her finger. “Oh, look! The menus are on this code. If we scan it with our phones, we can look at it online.” Then, she pulls out her phone as though the matter’s settled. I’ve never met anyone so direct before.

“Where can I make the donation?” I don’t sigh. I don’t because it would imply I don’t want to do it. I can well imagine how that kind of money would make a difference to the organization on the other end. How it could be huge for them.

My phone vibrates a minute later with an incoming email. I don’t normally check it, but something about her expression tells me she’s the one sending me stuff. She has my work email, and that’s the one she used. There’s a link that redirects me to a website full of rat photos—rats of all colors and sizes. They’re actually not bad, as far as rats go.

“There’s a link on the page. You can fill it out later.” She scans the barcode on the table next. “Crab time. Finally. I’ve beendying for this all night. I was Bingo-ing hard, doing it all for the rats, but my heart was actually here.” At her words, she flushes, realizing how it all sounds. “With the crab legs.”

“Naturally,” I deadpan.

“Naturally. The only choice is, what flavor? Oh goodness, check the menu. They have so freaking many!”

It seems, for once, I’ve done something to please her. I might not be cooking the crab legs or making the place smell like divine fishy deliciousness, but at least I discovered it.

“Ooh, they have crab mac and cheese.”

“Lord,” I groan.

“What?” Her head snaps up. “You don’t think that sounds good?” Her eyes linger on me for a few seconds, but it’s a few seconds long enough to make me feel all sorts of heat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen me dressed in casual clothing before. I’ve gone with jeans, a T-shirt, and a jean jacket. She probably thinks it’s too much denim.Ithink it’s too much denim, but my wardrobe is basically just dress pants and jeans, and I won’t wear it with dress pants because it looks all wrong, so jeans it is.

“It sounds a little fish-spicious.”

“Oh. Oh, goodness. Did you just make a funny?”

“I’m capable of it, I think,” I say with a low chuckle.

She’s back to trying not to smile. “What about the crab and banana split?”

“There is not one of those!” I gasp, my eyes wide.

She turns her phone, and I see it, though I wish I could unsee and unthink it. “I don’t have any good word combos for that one. Just crabana-NO.”

She giggles, and it’s real. I hear it.

“Crab and meatball soup, then?”

“Sound crabballishess.”

“Really?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay.” She puts her phone down on its face. “I’m getting the crab legs with garlic butter.”

“I think I’ll make that two.”

She looks around. “I think you fill out the order thing there and bring it to the front.” A whiteboard with a marker sits at the end of the booth.

“It’s a good thing I brought you. I have no idea how this works.”

---