Page 78 of Game Changer

“I’d suggest tomorrow night, but I’m helping my cousin celebrate her new job,” I tell William. “She landed a junior chef position.”

“Malvie, right?” he asks, again showing off his attention to detail. “I take it she didn’t prepare any Dicey Dip to impress her new employer?”

I laugh. “No. No Dicey Dip was involved.”

What was involved was Aunt Hildy’s influence. She’s a regular at Axel Tribeca, so when the restaurant’s owner, Hunter Reynolds, personally greeted her when she arrived for dinner one night last week, he mentioned they were searching for a junior chef. Malvie’s name came up, and Hunter agreed to try her food.

Hildy didn’t want Malvie to overthink the menu so she asked her if she could cater a dinner for two last night. Malvie jumped at the chance to do it, and the food was so divine that it sealed her fate.

She’ll start her new job next week. Our celebratory dinner with Posey will be tomorrow night at Axel Tribeca, courtesy of Hunter.

“Another night then,” he says casually, although I swear I hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. “I’ll just have to keep replaying last night in my mind over and over again until then.”

Even though we’re in a crowded spot, I step closer to him. “What part will you replay?”

He leans in so close I feel his breath skirt over my ear lobe. I shiver when he whispers, “All of it, but my favorite part was when you came undone on my cock.”

I step back so abruptly that I bump into a man passing behind me. I glance back to apologize, but he brushes it off as being his fault.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” he says with a smile. “I’m in too big of a rush to get my morning shot of espresso.”

I nod slightly. “I get it.”

As soon as he’s on his way, I shoot William a furtive look. “You’re bad.”

“In the best way.” He laughs. “Tell me what you want, Opal.”

My brows shoot up. “I’m not confessing to that here.”

“I’ll take that to mean you want much more of what I gave you last night.” He stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right.I know I am.”

That level of cockiness in a man has never been a turn-on for me, but I’ve never met a man who came close to comparing to William.

He crosses both arms over his chest. “Let’s talk about what I can do for you now. Tell me what you’re ordering, and I’ll grab it for you.”

“A coffee,” I say without hesitation. “I need something to help me stay awake.”

He looks me over. “What I wouldn’t give to have you falling asleep in my arms right now, but since I can’t have that, the least I can do is fuel your caffeine craving.”

48

William

Few people can upendmy schedule with a single call saying they need me. I left one on the sidewalk in front of her game bar earlier today when I kissed Opal goodbye.

I’m currently staring at my siblings. I’d include them in the short list of individuals who can expect me to act as soon as they are in need. However, after the setup they arranged to get me here, I’m crossing them off the list.

We’re sitting on the patio of a restaurant. I’d classify it more as a few tables and chairs set up on a sidewalk in an attempt to lure tourists to spend their vacation money on overpriced cocktails and food that belongs in a dumpster.

Bauer and Scout are indulging in both in the form of chili cheese fries and whiskey sours that are too heavy on the sour. I know because I sampled Bauer’s when I sat down. That’s what drove me to order a glass of sparkling water, but I’ve yet to touch it since the glass clearly hasn’t seen the interior of any dishwasher recently.

I don’t bother glancing in the direction of a symphony of horns, all sounding their displeasure at another driver. Leave it to the people of Manhattan to serenade everyone within hearing distance with the blunt blast of a car or truck horn and the occasional audible “fuck you,asshole,” tossed into the mix for good measure.

“Why am I here?” I ask for the third time since I sat down.

The first two times I tossed the question into the air, no one answered. Instead, Scout rattled on about work, and Bauer pretended to listen attentively. I know my brother well enough to sense when he’s focused on a project he has in the works. He’ll stare just past your face as you talk. To the untrained eye, it would appear he’s engaged in what you’re saying, but I know better.

Since my sister was the one who texted me telling me she needed me, I look right at her as I wait for an actual answer.

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