Page 4 of Wild Flower

“I’m sorry,” I say, glancing at the blue-eyed waiter who’s placed the drink on the table. My particularlyhotwaiter, I might add. Another bonus of Flambé is that everyone they hire is freaking gorgeous. “I didn’t order this.”

The waiter bends forward to retrieve the shimmering cocktail, but then, he drops his face close to my ear instead of collecting it. “It’s on the house,” he says in a deep voice that makes my thighs press together.

Um, hello! It turns out those eyes come with a wicked voice to match. Does Flambé train their employees to talk sexy like that? Because I wouldn’t mind hearing that naughty murmur when I’m pretending my life’s a romance novel and I’m lying on my back.

“Your friends have forgotten you’re here,” he purrs, his warm, minty breath on the shell of my ear. “Drink … watch …”

Watch?

“Mmmmm,” he encourages. “Watch your friends, or any of the couples in the room.” He motions to the other booths and their pools of darkness where it’s not only Kyle’s hands that are getting frisky. “Do you like to watch, gorgeous?”

My neck prickles, making me turn to the man crouched at my level. He’s got long dark hair that passes his shoulders, reminding me of those bat-winged heroes in the fantasy books my social media app suggested I read (which I absolutely did, because who doesn’t want to imagine being seduced by a muscle-ripped, bat-winged angel?). He has a clean cropped beard and full lips, and his glacial-blue eyes are drilling into me with an intensity that makes me shiver.

“Good,” he says, taking that shudder to mean I’m more than happy to spend the next half hour watching my friends grope one another. “Drink. Don’t think. Enjoy the view.”

His eyes dip to my mouth, then lower, racing over my corset dress and tattooed cleavage. A tastefully placed yellow saphora chrysophylla bloom (a mamane shrub that’s native here in Hawaii) and its fern-like leaves curl across my breastbone seductively.

He’sdefinitely enjoying the view.

My nipples ache at the intensity of his gaze, a stroke of warmth thrumming in my belly.Where the heck did that come from? Nobody affects me like this!Only, the answer is obviously those twin sapphires that are promising to do far more than make out in a booth like my best friend.

This is not normal.

My body doesn’t react to strange men.

Or at least, it didn’t before meeting this blue-eyed, suit-wearing anomaly, who’s probably about to confess he’s a supernatural Fae God, and we’re fated mates. Which of course would explain why he has an effect on me and everyone else has been garbage.

Yes, I definitely read too many romance novels.

“I took the liberty of ordering your table dessert,” the waiter purrs, using that low timbre to make my insides melt. “Trust me, it’s absolutely sinful.” His eyes trace down my body a second time, making my glittery, black dress feel thin as paper. “But it’s going to take another twenty minutes for the dessert to be prepared.” His indecent gaze promises to use that time to inspect every tattoo that’s under this dress. “Relax.Everybodyat Flambé is supposed to feel good.”

He winks and stands up.

I’m sorry, but was the entrée I just ate laced with Ecstasy? My body doesn’t ping pong to life like this. It flutters and fizzles out like the rogue light on a Christmas tree that takes out the whole string. This is—

The waiter rises to his full stature, and I’m forced to take in how big and muscular he is. He’s definitely large enough to be a lumberjack who shifts into a virile werewolf during the full moon.

“The drink and dessert are on me,” he adds, nodding to my beverage. “If you need another one, just catch my eye. I’ve got you, beautiful.”

Uh … he’d definitely be happy toget mein more than the drink department.

His gaze flicks to my friend who’s still playing tongue hockey with her boyfriend. “The name’s Archer, by the way.” His eyes fall to me with a wicked smile, holding my gaze for far longer than my body knows what to do with, before he slips away into the dark—a dark he’s more than implied we could get hot ‘n heavy in.

What kind of name is Archer? Did his parents expect him to grow up and be Robin Hood? If Miranda wasn’t gagged by Kyle’s tongue, she’d tell me to shut up and enjoy the fact that my body has actually reacted to a living, breathing, human man (that’s not in a novel), especially one wrapped up in a hunky package like Archer.

Of course, that name fits him: rugged, dangerous, sexy as fuck. He could absolutely be sporting a bow and arrow (or invisible bat wings) behind that well-fitted suit. I’m not going to lie, the sapphire eyes and sultry smile are definitely becoming spank-bank material. And I have a niggling feeling that when I read the next book in the bat-boy series, I’ll be imagining Archer battling fantastical beasts, then returning to the castle to pleasure his fated-mate on the end of his inhumanly-large male appendage.

I take a sip of the cocktail and smile: violet liquor and absinthe. A deadly combination as far as I’m concerned. It has me fluttering my eyelids and gazing through the booths of the restaurantto watchas Archer so daringly suggested. I’m sure this is his go-to move: give the lonely girl a drink, get her to spy on the other patrons, make her think about sex. I’m sure he tells himself the naughty ones will happily step up to bat. The problem is, I’m already watching a business man three booths away slide his hand up his date’s leg. No one’s fingers need to bethat farup a woman’s skirt unless he’s—

“Becca? Did the waiter just hit on you?”

I jolt out of my voyeurism and turn to the voice of my friend. “What? Um ...” I brush my silver-white hair off my tattooed shoulders. Is it hot in here? “He … um … We’re getting dessert. It’s been ordered.”

Miranda’s eyebrow hitches upward. That’snotwhat she asked. Did she eavesdrop on mewhilemaking out with Kyle? Is her new beau such a bad kisser that she spied on me? I return her insinuating look with my own:why weren’t you tongue-orgasming a second ago instead of snooping?

“He totally was!” she exclaims, ignoring my glower. “Oh man, he’s hot!”

“Hey!” Kyle grumbles.

---