Page 47 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

My heart trips. Damn. This woman has me wrapped around her little finger and she has no idea. She could have anything from me. I’d even let Ford have her if that’s what she wants.

But fuck. This is the first time we’ve both been single at the same time since I met her. How can I just step aside without at least telling her how I feel?

The diner is busy, and a harried waitress with medium brown skin, curly black hair, and a big smile hustles over and grabs two plastic coated menus and tells us, “This way.“ She leads us to a booth in the far corner and we slide in on opposite sides.

We peruse the menu, but the offerings are pretty basic and we decide quickly.

I order eggs, sausage, and toast while Ivy gets an omelet. The waitress pours us both coffee and I say, “We’ll need a couple of the breakfast burritos and some coffee to go as well.”

She notes that on her pad and heads for the kitchen.

I look across the table at my best friend.

“Okay, how are you?”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Good. Actually, really good.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Really. I’m relieved that things with Brad are over.” She gives a short laugh. “As sad as that is. I’m feeling stupid that he was the one who had to end it. But also glad he did. I’m actually having fun on this road trip, though I’m dreading dealing with the house. I know you guys, you and F-Ford, will help me.” She stumbles slightly over his name. “And things are…” Her gaze drops to the tabletop. “Good otherwise.”

“You mean things with you and Ford.” I feel a cold ball gathering in my chest. Fuck. She’s already taken. Again.

“Oh, I don’t know,“ she says with a shrug.

My heart kicks with what I can only describe as hope. “Really? What about last night?”

She blushes. “Well, that was fun,” she says with a little smile. “But before last night, I kissed him and he pulled back. He doesn’t want to rush things and I think he’s right. I am very,veryattracted to him. And he’s a great guy. I do feelsomethingthere. There’s a ton of chemistry. More than I ever had with Brad, sadly. But…I don’t know. Maybe the timing is wrong.”

“So last night was only sex?” I shouldn’t ask. It’s probably none of my business. But I’m in love with this girl. And she’s my best friend. Best friends talk about this stuff, right?

Okay, that’s not it. I need to know how she feels about Ford. I need to know if they’ve talked about any future. I need to know what I’m up against.

“Not sex,” she says, lowering her voice. “Just messing around.”

I lean in. I’ve always kept things friendly and fun with us. I’ve never pushed things with Ivy. Again, one of us has always been taken, and that wouldn’t have been appropriate. But neither of us is taken right now. Not officially. Not in a committed, in love way. So I say, “I heard you come last night, Ivy. That wasn’t just messing around. I heard what he did to you.”

She stares at me, as if she can’t look away. Her cheeks are pink, but her mouth falls open, and she’s breathing a little faster. The air between us heats slightly.

Her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip. “He made me come. But it wasn’t sex. Just…touching.” Her gaze darts around as if she’s trying to figure out if anyone can overhear us. When her eyes come back to mine, she gives me a little half grin that looks sexy and satisfied.

I can’t help but grin in return. I’ve been there. “Well, it sounded really good.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “I could hear you, too.”

Heat arrows through me sharply. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. Both of you. It sounded like you were having fun, too.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. It was fun. Also just touching. No sex.”

She watches me without speaking, and I wonder if she’s picturing it. Me and Harrison together, hands around one another’s cocks. The pink in her cheeks is darker now. And dammit, I’m again assaulted by images of her and Harrison. Him kissing her, her mouth around his cock, her riding him.

They would be so fucking hot together. And I would be there too. Definitely. I’d be telling them both what to do to each other.Fuck, that would be hot as hell.

Just then, the waitress arrives with our breakfasts, setting plates of eggs and sausage in front of us. The scent of fried potatoes, onions and peppers surrounds us and my stomach growls. Ivy immediately reaches for the butter and strawberry jam.

We both get busy salting, pouring ketchup, and digging into the good old-fashioned breakfast.

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