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Gavin smirked in Emily’s direction and rubbed his hands together. “Your ‘birds’ are about to go down.”

“You seem pretty confident about that,” she laughed, looking at him. “I wouldn’t be too sure though.”

Gavin’s eyes flicked down to the corner of her mouth where there was the smallest amount of mustard, painfully awaiting for him to wipe it off. Without even thinking—in one swift motion—he brought his hand up to her lip, and with the pad of his thumb, he whisked it away.

Startled by his sudden movement, Emily flinched back.

“There was…mustard on your lip,” he slowly replied. Quelling the urge to lick it off his finger, he grabbed a napkin.

“You broke the no-touching-me rule,” she breathed out, ignoring what her body was fighting so hard to deny. Even as fleeting as it was, his touch felt insanely good in an insanely bad way.

In one quick stroke, he flicked his gaze down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “I could’ve let it stay there.”

“And you could’ve told me about it, too, wiseass.” A smile twisted his mouth, one so contagious that she couldn’t help but respond with a smile of her own. “Looks like I have to follow through on my promise and make you pay severely for not playing fair.”

He cocked an incredulous brow. “Not that I’m against public affection, especially with you, but how do you plan on accomplishing that in a stadium filled with people?”

Emily shot him an evil grin and leaned forward, tapping her finger on the shoulder of a woman seated in the row in front of them.

The woman and her friend sitting next to her turned around.

“I’m very sorry to bother you,” Emily said to the blonde. “My friend here is interested in giving you his number. He finds you very attractive and didn’t have the nerve to say anything to you himself. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Gavin smiled, shook his head, and all but buried his face in his hands with embarrassment.

The woman and her friend laughed. “I actually don’t have a boyfriend right now.”

“Well, not that it would matter if you did because that doesn’t deter my friend here, but it’s all the better that you don’t,” Emily replied coolly. “Do you have a pen and a paper for him?”

The woman dug in her purse, retrieved a pen, and ripped out a piece of her checkbook. She handed it to Emily, and in turn, Emily handed it to Gavin.

“There ya go, pal. Jot down those digits for the pretty lady,” Emily laughed and nudged him with her elbow. “And stop being so damn shy when it comes to picking up women.”

With his dimpled smile, Gavin quickly scribbled on the piece of paper and handed it back to the woman.

She took a quick look at it and smiled back at him. “Gavin, huh? Cute name to go with that cute face. You’ll definitely be hearing from me.”

Gavin nodded, and Emily laughed.

“You’re ruthless,” he whispered, throwing a peanut shell at Emily’s head.

Laughing, she plucked it out. “I warned you.”

Many chucked peanut shells into Emily’s hair later, the game ended with the Yankees winning by three. During the entire subway ride back to Manhattan, Gavin took great pride in reminding her of the score every few minutes. He also confessed that the number he had jotted down for the woman at the game was a fake. His defense was that he was no longer into women with blonde hair. Shaking her head, Emily laughed and sassed him about his little lie. He made sure to see her home, catching a taxi with her back to her apartment building. After asking the driver to run the meter, he walked her up to the entrance.

Once again, Emily offered him her hand. “It was a pleasure hanging out with you today, Gavin.”

“I can shake your hand?” he smiled. “I don’t want to break any more rules.”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

He obliged and took her hand, experiencing the same rush of heat he had felt every other time he had the chance to touch her. Feeling like a malicious entity—selfish and wanting—he eventually let go. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Emily watched as he walked back over to the taxi and drove away.

Riding the elevator up to her apartment, her head grew pleasantly fuzzy, thinking of the wonderful day she had spent with Gavin. She tried to get her nerves to settle because she knew she shouldn’t have been with him at all. The balance was hell, but the release was sweet in a disturbing way. She learned things about him that she had never thought possible. Something nudged in her chest, a heightened longing for him mixed with hurt for what he had gone through.

In an effort to take her mind off him, she concentrated on the fact that Dillon would most likely be awaiting her arrival. To her relief, he was comfortably splayed out across her couch when she walked in. Over the next hour, he thoroughly filled her in on his achievement of landing one of the largest accounts his firm had acquired in more than ten years.

Although she debated on whether or not to tell him about her day spent with Gavin, she decided against it, not wanting to dismantle Dillon’s happiness. Now all she had to do was convince herself that Dillon’s happiness was actually the reason she would hide such a thing. She settled the self-argument firing up in her head as simply as she could.

He didn’t ask how her day went, so she didn’t tell.

Chapter Ten

Just a Lil’ Bit

“God, Em, could you hog the mirror anymore?” Olivia nudged her hip against Emily’s in an attempt to see her own reflection. “You look banging. Now let me see myself.”

Emily teased her fingers through her hair, trying to give it a little more bounce without unnecessary amounts of hairspray. “You’re in my bathroom, friend. Go use yours.”

Letting out a sigh, Olivia frowned. “But I like yours better; now scoot,” she clipped, jerking her hip against Emily’s with more force this time. “Besides, your friend’s waiting in the other room for us, so don’t be rude. I’ll be done in a second, and then we can go party until we drop!”

Laughing, Emily shot herself one last look in the mirror and strolled out of the bathroom. She plucked her outfit for the evening off the bed. After slipping into a short black twill skirt and a red short-sleeved button-up blouse, she threw on a pair of black heels and called out to Olivia for approval.

She playfully spun around, modeling her attire.

“You look like a sex kitten,” Olivia trilled.

Emily smiled and made her way into the living room.

Fallon jumped up from the couch, her gray eyes wide. “Damn, Emily, you clean up well.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Emily smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, Country, it’s a compliment.” She tossed her red-and-stark-white-streaked hair over her shoulder. “The only clothing I’ve seen you in is that horrid black-and-white uniform that they make us wear.”

“Well, thank you, Fallon,” Emily laughed. “For another horrid black-and-white-wearing-uniformed waitress, you don’t look too bad yourself. I would never be able to pull off fishnet stockings like you can.”

Fallon’s mouth curled wickedly as she propped her leg onto the coffee table. “These old things? Damn, if I could live in a fishnet bodysuit, I would. Though I usually don’t care what people think, society wouldn’t consider that very proper, would they?”

Emily shook her head and laughed. “I’m thinking you might be right about that.”

Olivia emerged from the bedroom, sporting a red dress and matching heels. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders, and the dress hugged her hourglass physique like a glove. After twirling herself around for Emily and Fallon, she made her way into the kitchen, pulled out three shot glasses from the cabinet, and topped each one off with a heavy dose of tequila.

“Come on, ladies,” Olivia squealed. “Let’s do a couple of mind-fuckers before we hit the club.”

The three women indulged in a shot, each of them excited for a much-needed night out on the town. After they downed a second “mind-fucker,” a quick knock came at the door, followed by Dillon walking in.

“Why even bother knocking, Douche?” Olivia asked, rolling her brown eyes. Emily elbowed her in the gut. “I mean, Dillon, of course,” she huffed out from the impact.

Dillon pinned Olivia with an icy grin, and then his eyes flicked over Fallon. He looked back to Emily with a quizzical look on his face. “What are you doing? I thought you were hanging out with me tonight?”

Smiling, Emily moved across the room and tossed her arms around his neck. “No, I told you the other day that I was doing a girls’ night out with Fallon and Olivia.”

Dillon lightly gripped her hips and leaned into her ear, his voice low. “Can I talk to you in the other room for a second?”

Emily nodded, and he swiftly grabbed her by the hand, leading her into her bedroom. He snapped the door shut and crossed his arms.

“What the fuck is that out there?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“That fucking space cadet, Goth-looking freak in the black leather shirt and skirt,” he answered, stepping closer. “Jesus Christ, she’s wearing a fucking spiked neck collar, Emily. She has piercings on her lip, nose, eyebrow, and who fucking knows where else on her body?”

Emily let out a groan as she moved toward the door, but he blocked her and grabbed her arm. She looked up to him. “Are you really going to start with me about her? She’s a nice girl, Dillon. Who cares what she looks like?”

“If my girlfriend’s going out with it, I care what it looks like.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. “What kind of attention do you think she’s going to bring, looking like that?”

Emily yanked her arm away from him. “I’m not worried about what kind of attention she’s going to bring,” she whispered in a heated tone.

He plowed his hands through his hair. “Well, what kind of attention do you think you’re going to bring, wearing that?”

“I’m not doing this with you tonight, Dillon. I swear I’m not,” she answered in a low and hostile voice, attempting once again to move past him.

He grabbed her by the waist. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You look beautiful.” He nuzzled his nose against her cheek as he lifted her arms up over his shoulders. “Which club are you going to?”

Emily let out a sigh. “Pink.”

“On 52nd?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll call a few of the guys from my office and go do something with them tonight.” He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. “You owe me one for this.”

She spoke against his mouth. “I told you about tonight, Dillon.”

He let out a low groan as he sucked in her bottom lip. “I must’ve forgotten about it. I’ve been working late again with this new account—you know this.” He smoothed his hands down her waist. “What time are you going to be back?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, wiggling out from his embrace. “But I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”

He pulled her in for another kiss and then walked back to the kitchen with her. Emily quickly introduced him to Fallon. With her eyes, she warned him not to say anything to embarrass either of them. He simply smiled, but Emily could tell he was still displeased with the whole situation.

After the women gathered their belongings for the evening, he followed them outside, hailed a taxi, and paid the driver for their ride.

He ducked his head through the back window. “Not too late, okay? We’re having lunch with my parents tomorrow.”

Emily nodded and leaned up to kiss him. With that, the driver pulled away.

“Your boyfriend’s…nice?” Fallon said while her fingers moved over the keyboard of her phone like a well-oiled machine.

Olivia laughed but tried to hide it by covering her mouth.

“Thank you, Fallon,” Emily drawled the words out as her eyes traveled to Olivia. “He can be a little overprotective sometimes, but he’s a good man.”

As Olivia laughed again—this time without trying to conceal it—Fallon gasped. “Oh shit! A friend of mine’s having a house party in Staten Island tonight.” She continued to frantically text away. “His pad is incredible, and he throws killer parties. Let’s go there instead.”

“I’m down for whatever,” Olivia replied, rummaging through her purse. She glanced in Emily’s direction. “Is that cool with you?”

“Aren’t we all a little overdressed for a house party?”

Fallon pulled a flask from her bag, unscrewed the top, and took a sip. She shook her head. “No, believe me, it’s an anything-goes party.” She handed Emily the flask. “Here, it’s my specialty.”

Emily took it from her and smelled its contents. “What is it?”

“Just take a sip, Em,” Olivia piped up. “You’re always worried about how much you drink.”

“I’m already a little buzzed from those tequila shots, and I had some wine while I was getting ready.” They both shot her a look, waiting for her to drink it. “Okay, fine.” She took one last whiff of the liquid and chugged some back. She started to cough and tried to blink back the stinging tears in her eyes. “What the hell is that?”

Fallon’s eyes brightened with silent laughter. “Moonshine, baby.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Olivia chirped and reached for the flask. “I had this once when I was in high school.” She tossed some back, her face crinkling from its taste as she wiggled her head back and forth.