Page 42 of Books and Hookups

Andrew sniffed the air. “It smells incredible in here.”

“Remember that place in Milan?” Carly said. “It smells like that.”

“That was a fantastic trip,” Andrew said.

While they reminisced about it, I started to sweat. Danny hadn’t mentioned the supper club. In fact, we hadn’t talked for weeks. Not since he’d brought food up to my place. Some of it was because I’d been busy, but a lot of it was because I didn’t want him to think I needed him to take care of me. Every time he’d offered to bring me food or help me organize the baby stuff, which I was ashamed to admit was still piled in that damned crib I couldn’t use, I’d turned him down. We were in this situation because of me. I’d forgotten the Plan B, and it’d been my choice to keep the baby. He didn’t owe me a thing. I could do this on my own.

I hoped he wouldn’t think I’d come here looking for him.

I was pleating my napkin in my lap when someone loomed over our table, his woodsy scent cutting through the oregano and fennel that filled the restaurant that night.

“Hey,” he said.

His hair was down tonight, curling a bit at his shoulders. He wore a black dress shirt and black trousers, similar to what Leo had on, but Danny’s broad shoulders and narrow waist made it look sexier somehow. Not as sexy as his bartender T-shirts, which outlined every muscle on his chest and shoulders. My mouth went dry, remembering what Danny looked like underneath his clothes.

Stop!

I closed my eyes to pull myself together, then I looked up at him. “Hi. These are my friends Carly and Andrew. Andrew suggested that we come down for dinner. I didn’t think you’d be here since it’s Thursday.”

His cheeks turned pink. “I’m working as a favor to Leo. I came over to grab your drink order.”

“Oh.” My face went hot, and my palms started to sweat.

Andrew stood and held out his hand. “Hi. You must be Danny. We’ve heard…nothing about you. Why don’t you join us?” He pointed at the empty chair next to me.

“I…but…” He turned dark, helpless eyes on me.

“I insist,” Carly said, her eyes glittering.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get your drinks first. Wine?” He waited for Carly and Andrew to nod. “Lucie, if you’ll come with me, I can mix you up a mocktail.”

“I…okay.” He was right. We needed to talk before he joined us in what was about to become the most awkward double-date ever.

He pulled out my chair, and I followed him to the bar. He went behind it and selected a bottle of wine from a carton on the floor. As he reached for the glasses on the overhead rack, I tried not to ogle the way the thin fabric of his shirt stretched over his ribs, tracing his obliques, or the way his biceps strained the sleeves as he pulled out the cork.

“I really am sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s okay,” he said gruffly. “It’s good to see you. You look good.”

“Thanks.” I smoothed a hand down my belly. My work pants had started to get tight, so I’d worn a black knee-length skirt with a stretchy waist. That way, I could eat as much as I wanted. My morning sickness was never severe, and it had ended entirely last week. Now I couldn’t seem to get enough to eat.

He pulled something out of the refrigerator under the counter and poured it over ice in a highball glass. He spritzed it with club soda and garnished it with a cherry. “Try this,” he said.

“Cheers,” I said as I picked it up. I sipped it. It was citrusy and bright. Sweet, but not too sweet. “This is delicious,” I said before I took a longer swig.

“Glad you like it. I created a mocktail menu, and that’s the most popular.” His cheeks were red at the tops again as he poured a glass of club soda.

“What do you call it?” I asked.

“The Tell-Tale Tart.” The blush cascaded down his neck.

“That’s…a great name, actually.” I squinted at him. I’d known he was great with drinks, but I hadn’t known it extended to words too.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I join you and your friends?” he asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You heard them. Neither of us has a choice in this. She wants to get to know you, I think. She’s nice, kind of pushy. And Andrew’s a good kid.”

“Kid?” He wrinkled his nose. “How old is he?”

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