Page 174 of Traitor

My eyes narrow. "I feel like we're recreating that night."

"Nah, baby," he murmurs, holding my gaze. "We're making new memories."

Damn.

I chuckle, shaking my head, and before I can even think of a comeback, he's already opening the right drawer for the bottle opener.

I blink. "You remember where I keep my opener?"

He doesn't even glance up as he starts looking through the mess inside. "Of course. I remember everything about you."

His words are so matter-of-fact that they shouldn't affect me.

But they do.

I roll my eyes to cover the way my pulse pounds just a little harder. "Damn, I almost forgot how cheesy you can get."

He finally looks up, one brow raised. "Don't lie. You like it."

I scoff, his smug expression daring me to deny it.

"Do you want any?" he asks, holding up the unopened bottle.

"Yes," I say, walking to the fridge. "I have beer for you. I know you don't really like wine."

"Depends on what I'm drinking it with."

Something about the way he says it, like he's not just talking about the wine, makes me too aware of how small my kitchen suddenly feels.

I take a deep breath and grab the beer. It's fine. It's just dinner.

Just two people. Figuring things out.

We settle at the table, and after the first bite, I hear him groan.

"I don't know how you do it, but your food just gets better and better every fucking time."

I chuckle, twirling my fork. "Mama taught me a lot of tips and tricks during our virtual sessions. She was really great at sharing cooking secrets with me."

He watches me with a soft smile, something dangerously warm in his expression. "Her and Pops will be back in a few days. She wants to throw a" — he pauses to make air quotes and sigh — "'Winter Wonderland Barbecue'at the clubhouse on Saturday. She called me today with a huge fucking list of things she needs for it. She'll probably reach out to see if you'd like to come. Or just show up at your door." He smirks. "But I wanted to tell you myself. In case you were interested. No pressure."

I rest my chin on my hand, considering. "I think I'd like to come. But I'd like to bring Ria with me." My voice lowers a little. "I can't promise, though. I might change my mind." I blow a quiet, frustrated breath. "I still have some bad days that I have to work through sometimes. They're much rarer now, but I never know when one might come."

His expression shifts, quiet understanding settling into his features. "I get it, Temper. That's to be expected." His voice is softer, but then, suddenly, it's not. It's hard. Sharp. "You can bring Ria. You can bring anyone you'd like." He pauses, jaw tightening. "Except Griffin. Absolutely no Griffin at the clubhouse."

I burst out laughing. "You're fucking terrible." I shake my head, amused as hell. "Griffin is just a friend. Has been just a friend for a very long time now." I hold his gaze, teasing.

"Really?" His grip tightens on his beer bottle, disbelief written all over his face. "Fucking really?"

"Yeah. Why?" I tilt my head, suddenly curious. "Why did you think differently?"

His expression slams shut, like a goddamn vault. "No reason."

Liar.

I narrow my eyes at him. "There is one. You just don't want to say it."

He dodges my stare, takes a long drink from his beer, and then smooth as hell, changes the subject.

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