Page 79 of When It's Us
"We were just talking about how none of us have been out in months," Wren says, tucking her hair into a messy knot.
"What we’re saying," Josie cuts in, leaning across the island, "is that we should go out. Likeactuallyout. To Roxy’s."
"Speaking of," Nat says, hopping up to perch on a barstool. "That rooftop bar you posted to your stories looked so cool, Hales."
She pops a cherry tomato from a tray on the counter and chews thoughtfully.
Josie nods, swirling her wine. "Right? And don’t even get me started on their drink menu. I’m still thinking about that raspberry-basil thing. What was it called again, Hales?"
"The Heartbreaker."
"And speaking of heartbreakers—Hayley got up and sangAloneby Heart. Full power stance."
"You didnot," Natalie snorts.
"I blacked out. I don’t wanna talk about it," Hayley says, raising her glass to her lips.
"Oh, we’re talking about it," Josie says. "You hit that high note like you were auditioning to shatter glass. Or bust a few eardrums."
Hayley chucks a cucumber slice at her. "Please. The crowd went wild. That one guy almost dropped his mozzarella sticks."
"And then she freaking disappears on me," Josie adds. "One second she’s taking a bow, and the next—"
Hayley elbows her best friend in the side, hard. Josie squeaks and narrows her eyes, rubbing her ribs.
The woosh of the sliding glass door brings Hank, Hudson, and Jasper inside, along with the smell of grilled meat.
"We leave for five minutes and the estrogen levels double," Hudson jokes, heading straight for Finn, who smacks him lightly.
I shift Amelia in my arms and look around—suddenly aware of a familiar figure visible through the kitchen window.
"Hey, Wren," I say, turning slightly. "You want her back for a bit?"
"Sure," Wren says, setting her drink down and opening her arms for the baby. “Will you take these veggies out to the grill? Have Hutch put them on?”
I pass Amelia over carefully, brushing a kiss against her downy head before picking up the plate of asparagus.
Conversation resumes, and I slip out the back door, sudden nerves fluttering my stomach.
The air is cool when I step onto the dim deck. Hutch stands at the railing, one boot propped on the bottom rung. The sizzle of meat and the soft hum of crickets fill the quiet.
The sight of his broad back in that dark waffle-knit shirt makes my stomach tighten. I picture stepping behind him, hands sliding over strong muscles as they flex under my touch. He’s got that Viking lumberjack thing going, but there’s a quiet humility that makes him even harder to ignore.
He straightens at the sound of my steps, that slow, familiar grin spreading as his deep blue eyes find mine. My stupid heart skips—I don’t even try to fight it.
It’s only been a day since I felt him against me, but the ache in my chest says otherwise. That easy confidence, that maddening smirk—everything about him still pulls me in. I can’t even decide what I like most. My brain is practically screamingscrew the arrangement.
I try not to drown in the memory of our first night right here, his heat pressed to mine, the way his filthy words lit me up like a Christmas tree.
This fucking ass. Goddamn.
“Hey,” I say.
“Easy, California,” he says when I step forward and set the plate of asparagus down next to the grill. “We both know what happens when we’re out here alone.”
I chuckle out a groan, then meet his eyes, swapping places with him to lean back against the railing. “Just when I think you’rean actual grown-up, you have to go and ruin it by opening your mouth.”
His lips tip up in a lazy half-grin. “Miss me yet?”
