achieve greatness." Adrian's pinky touched the crease of thigh and torso, making her gasp. They were like newlyweds, but better, the heat between them deeper, fiercer. Packer was this amazing, fiery presence, too. Just waiting like a big predator.
They pulled into a parking lot, and Packer parked toward the back. The silence as the engine was killed was huge.
"Well. We have a reservation, lovies, so in we go." Packer kissed her just under her ear, his arm going around her back so his fingers could reach Adrian's arm.
Adrian chuckled, nodded and they tumbled out, Adrian making sure she was steady on her heels. She could see the way heads turned so people could stare, and she loved that all the women in the place looked jealous. They should be.
Adrian held her chair for her, her fringe tickling her thighs as she sat.
The waiter smiled at them when he came, handing her the menu first, but giving Packer the wine list. "Can I get you something to drink, folks?"
She smiled at Adrian. "Are you boys having beer?"
"Yeah, I think so." Adrian grinned back. "What have you got in a nice dark ale?" Adrian settled on a local brew, and Packer managed to get a Victoria Bitter, which she knew from experience was actually an Aussie pilsner.
She went with a nice dark red, knowing that it made her lips shine.
They all looked at the menu, but she had to laugh, because the toes of their boots found her feet at the same time. Boys.
"What looks good?" She wanted a little steak, a salad. Maybe some shrimp.
"Oh, I like the Porterhouse." Adrian always had a hollow leg or something.
"Not the grilled chicken breast salad?" She couldn't help teasing. She'd fed Adrian chicken for the first year she cooked for him.
"Oh, god. You'd poison me if you could." He grinned at her, tapping her leg with his foot. "I need my red meat protein, as hard as I work out these days, baby."
Packer snorted and Calleigh chuckled. "I bet you get your fair dose of... protein,” she said, arching a brow.
"Oh, he can have as much as he likes." Packer's grin went evil-evil. Lord, he was hot when he smiled.
"What about you, sir? Are you a chicken man? Shrimp?" God, this was fun.
"Oh, I like a good shrimp, now. With steak." Packer almost chortled. "Like a good loin, too."
That made her giggle. "Poor me. Neither one of y'all are breast lovers."
"Now, love, don't count us out on that. We're just not as fond of chicken."
"He's got a point, baby girl."
"Duck? Goose? Ptarmigan?" What the fuck was a ptarmigan anyway?
"Wife." Adrian's hand covered hers, squeezing.
Her cheeks heated, and she grinned. "Well, then. I suppose you boys deserve your red meat."
"There you go." Sometimes Adrian sounded like a Texan. If Texans had that weird lilt to their voices.
She ordered the petit filet and a salad, along with the shrimp cocktail. Whatever she didn't eat, someone would. Adrian got his Porterhouse, and Packer got some surf and turf thing, and over the first round of drinks the man had her and Adrian laughing like loons about some beach story that involved Brazilians and crabs.
She countered with a story about Helena's wedding out on Lake Texoma. "Y'all should have seen her, dancing around on the boat in those heels. When Gordon tripped and they went over the side, it was like the funny video show."
She'd been Helena's matron of honor, just like Helena had stood up for her with Adrian.
Adrian shook his head. "I didn't know Helena had gotten married."
"Lord, she's pregnant with baby number two. I'm Bethany's godmother. She's a hoot." For a second she thought about the life she'd walked out on -- house, land, friends, job. Then she looked at Adrian, who was staring at her with that mixture of awe and love and a little shamefacedness, and she couldn't think of a reason not to be right where she was.
Her hand found his knee, touching him, and she couldn't help but smile.
Packer took a long pull of beer before clearing his throat. "Why no kids for you?"
She squeezed
They pulled into a parking lot, and Packer parked toward the back. The silence as the engine was killed was huge.
"Well. We have a reservation, lovies, so in we go." Packer kissed her just under her ear, his arm going around her back so his fingers could reach Adrian's arm.
Adrian chuckled, nodded and they tumbled out, Adrian making sure she was steady on her heels. She could see the way heads turned so people could stare, and she loved that all the women in the place looked jealous. They should be.
Adrian held her chair for her, her fringe tickling her thighs as she sat.
The waiter smiled at them when he came, handing her the menu first, but giving Packer the wine list. "Can I get you something to drink, folks?"
She smiled at Adrian. "Are you boys having beer?"
"Yeah, I think so." Adrian grinned back. "What have you got in a nice dark ale?" Adrian settled on a local brew, and Packer managed to get a Victoria Bitter, which she knew from experience was actually an Aussie pilsner.
She went with a nice dark red, knowing that it made her lips shine.
They all looked at the menu, but she had to laugh, because the toes of their boots found her feet at the same time. Boys.
"What looks good?" She wanted a little steak, a salad. Maybe some shrimp.
"Oh, I like the Porterhouse." Adrian always had a hollow leg or something.
"Not the grilled chicken breast salad?" She couldn't help teasing. She'd fed Adrian chicken for the first year she cooked for him.
"Oh, god. You'd poison me if you could." He grinned at her, tapping her leg with his foot. "I need my red meat protein, as hard as I work out these days, baby."
Packer snorted and Calleigh chuckled. "I bet you get your fair dose of... protein,” she said, arching a brow.
"Oh, he can have as much as he likes." Packer's grin went evil-evil. Lord, he was hot when he smiled.
"What about you, sir? Are you a chicken man? Shrimp?" God, this was fun.
"Oh, I like a good shrimp, now. With steak." Packer almost chortled. "Like a good loin, too."
That made her giggle. "Poor me. Neither one of y'all are breast lovers."
"Now, love, don't count us out on that. We're just not as fond of chicken."
"He's got a point, baby girl."
"Duck? Goose? Ptarmigan?" What the fuck was a ptarmigan anyway?
"Wife." Adrian's hand covered hers, squeezing.
Her cheeks heated, and she grinned. "Well, then. I suppose you boys deserve your red meat."
"There you go." Sometimes Adrian sounded like a Texan. If Texans had that weird lilt to their voices.
She ordered the petit filet and a salad, along with the shrimp cocktail. Whatever she didn't eat, someone would. Adrian got his Porterhouse, and Packer got some surf and turf thing, and over the first round of drinks the man had her and Adrian laughing like loons about some beach story that involved Brazilians and crabs.
She countered with a story about Helena's wedding out on Lake Texoma. "Y'all should have seen her, dancing around on the boat in those heels. When Gordon tripped and they went over the side, it was like the funny video show."
She'd been Helena's matron of honor, just like Helena had stood up for her with Adrian.
Adrian shook his head. "I didn't know Helena had gotten married."
"Lord, she's pregnant with baby number two. I'm Bethany's godmother. She's a hoot." For a second she thought about the life she'd walked out on -- house, land, friends, job. Then she looked at Adrian, who was staring at her with that mixture of awe and love and a little shamefacedness, and she couldn't think of a reason not to be right where she was.
Her hand found his knee, touching him, and she couldn't help but smile.
Packer took a long pull of beer before clearing his throat. "Why no kids for you?"
She squeezed
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