Page 26 of The Amazing Date

“How are you feeling?” Brooke leans into me.

I lift my hand, holding up two fingers, and point to Laredo’s beer for the waitress. “I’m good. Just needed to get those cookies out of my system.”

“Please tell me you did that on purpose,” Trey adds, and the table breaks into laughter.

“A woman never tells,” I say, painting a Cheshire cat smile on my face. The waitress returns with two beers, and I hand one to Roberto.

He taps my bottle and nods thanks. “Oh, Laredo, by the way, these are going on your tab. Those of us still on the race can’t use our own money or cards, just what the race provides.”

“Wait, what?” Brooke asks, staring down at the two empties in front of her. “You mean…”

I swing my leg and kick Roberto in his ankle. I had mentioned this little factoid on our walk over to the club, secure I’m the only one who read every single line of the competition handbook. The plan was to watch the other teams run through all their remaining cash, thereby placing them at a disadvantage for tomorrow.

What the hell, Roberto.

“No problem,” Adam chimes in when Laredo hesitates. “We’ll pick up the tab for the entire table if you guys promise to take down Caitlin and Kelly.”

I forget Roberto’s misstep and pivot to Adam’s unexpected comment. I doubt Adam has a mean bone in his body, yet team blondie has made him a convert. “Did something happen?”

Laredo scoffs and sips his beer. “When we exited the plane, there was a car service waiting for us. Dude had a sign with our names on it and everything.”

I catch the shrug from Adam as well as the shake of his head. “Seemed legit at the time.”

“Driver took us north for about ten miles and then told us to get out. When we argued and pressed him, he told us that a pair of blonde girls had paid him to pick us up but only gave him enough money for a short ride. By the time we were able to get another cab, actually figure out the clue, and get to Chinatown, we were in no mental shape to race.”

“We took our frustrations out on each other. All we did was argue the rest of the way,” Adam adds.

That explains their action on the side of the road. I lean into Roberto. “Hope you’re taking notes. Sugar and spice doesn’t mean everything will be nice.”

His hand lands on my bare thigh, a gentle squeeze. “Must be a relief no one will ever accuse you of being nice?”

I twist to take in his gaze. He’s looking across the table at the twins, but his hand remains on my thigh. I don’t make a move, his warm hand washing away the sting of his words. Those damn butterflies make a return appearance, and I press my legs together, trapping his hand there.

I feel his body tense up next to me. A momentary flicker of his eyes down to my lap before he takes a keen interest in the label on his beer bottle. It is like we’re playing a game of footsie in front of an unsuspecting table of people. My breath becomes shallow, and I lean forward, feigning a sudden interest in my beer label as well.

Roberto attempts to wiggle his trapped hand. I ease open my legs, afraid I squeezed too tight. I didn’t.

He maintains eye contact with Laredo and sips his beer with his left hand, while the finger on his right hand strokes my inner thigh. That magical digit sends shock waves right to my core. Without thinking, I open my legs wider, providing him access.

His tender stroke moves up my leg, higher and higher, and I can’t believe this is happening. The flutters in my stomach are beaten down by the pounding of my heart, and I lose it. That talented digit of his skims underneath the edge of my loose-fitting shorts and finds its way to a place I never thought it would ever return. My entire core catches fire, his touch too much, foreign and familiar all at the same time. I throw back my head, chin to ceiling, eyes closed, and scream, “Oh my god, yes.”

Shit.

My head snaps forward. All eyes are on me, except for Roberto, who smirks behind his beer. I squeeze my legs shut and lift my beer. “Damn, that beer hits the spot,” I shout, pointing, shocked I hadn’t knocked into the table and spilled it.

“Hear, hear.” Roberto lifts his beer, the rest of the table mimicking his salute. “Here’s to remembering to enjoy the little things in life. The moments that are so irresistibly wonderful you lose all inhibitions and shout to the heavens.”

I lift the beer to my lip but don’t sip. Instead, I squeeze my legs so tight I know it must cause him discomfort. “And here’s to playing games. Be careful what you start.”

Roberto’s gaze over the tip of his beer catches mine, and I open my legs. He removes his hand, shaking it underneath the table out of sight of the rest of the contestants.

My legs shudder, missing his unique warmth and touch. My mind swirls in confusion, not sure what the hell just happened.

“Well, with you guys finally here, we can get started.” Laredo takes a long swig, finishing his beer. He pushes back from the table and stands.

“Started?” I ask.

Trey quirks his neck toward the stage. “They know the owner and are going to play a quick set for us.”

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