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“Agree to what?” Drake’s deep voice booms from beside me as he lowers himself into the chair between Azalea and me.

“Coming to Myla’s baby shower,” Simon tells him.

“Hells yeah, girl. Y’all can even have it at my house, if you want. I’ve got plenty of room.” He smiles, clearly pleased with himself. “Speaking of extra room, I invited a buddy of mine to fill that empty chair tonight.”

Azalea's features immediately relax at the mention of his 'buddy'. Still, she scoffs. “Like you have any other friends.”

“Oh, hey there, Little Bit. Didn’t notice you.” Drake fires back with a cat-ate-the-canary grin. These two need to figure their shit out.

“A friend? Who?” I ask, trying to distract them from their bickering.

“Actually, you met him today. Name’s Cash. I sent him your way for a haircut.”

“Oh, okay . . . yeah. That’s great.” I choke on my words, sounding like a babbling thirteen-year-old who got caught passing a note in class.Lord, help me through this dinner.

“You okay, Myles?” Simon quirks a brow.

“Your buddy, Cash, has had her tied up in knots since he came in this morning,” Azalea tells the boys with a snicker.

“Have I now?” Cash’s voice asks softly in my ear as he claims the chair on my other side. His warm breath fanning my neck, combined with that slow Matthew McConaughey drawl of his, and I’m damn near a puddle in my chair. My brain is shouting for me to say something—anything—but my mouth won’t cooperate.

I’m so beyond mortified, I’m seriously considering abandoning dinner and crawling under the nearest rock.

Paying no attention to my lack of reply, he introduces himself to Azalea. Conversation carries on at the table. Everyone’s either oblivious to my embarrassment—or more likely, enjoying it.

CHAPTER 9

CASH

I walkinto the restaurant where I’m meeting the guys, and my senses are instantly assaulted from all sides. The smell of grilled meat and a hint of fresh lime juice, the sound of laughter from the other patrons, the music of the three-piece band—it’s a lot to take in, but it feelsright.A quick glance around the dining room, and I find Drake and Simon seated at a large round table toward the back. They aren’t alone—two girls are at the table as well.

“Hola, sir. Welcome to Azteca’s. Just one tonight?”

I nod my head toward the back. “No, ma’am, I’m joining some friends.” The hostess offers me a menu before sending me on back toward their table.

I’m just about to call out my arrival to the guys when the blonde at the table says, “Your buddy, Cash, has had her tied up in knots since he came in this morning.”

The girls at the table are the stylists from Southern Roots. The good Lordmustbe smiling on me this evening. I haven’t been able to get Miss Myla Rose out of my head all damn day, and it wasn’t the haircut she gave me tying up real estate in my mind either—even if it is the best damn haircut I’ve ever had. No, it was her soft voice with that Southern drawl, her curvy little body, the freckles on her nose, the thought of running my fingersthrough her long hair—those were the thoughts I couldn’t shake. And now, here she is.

I decide not to announce my arrival. Instead, I walk up quietly, bend toward Myla Rose, and whisper in her ear, “Have I now?” My voice is hoarse from our proximity. I find myself taken by the soft scent of her, my lips a breath away from her neck. Coconuts mixed with vanilla—it’s intoxicating. Myla Rose doesn’t answer my question, and that’s all fine and well. I didn’t intend for her to.

I smile at the rest of the table and introduce myself to the blonde sitting between Drake and Simon. “Cash Carson. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Azalea, but most people call me AzzyJo,” she offers, slightly slack-jawed. I shake her hand, just like I did with Myla Rose at the salon, but it’s not the same. With Myla Rose, it was exhilarating, the feel of her skin on mine. With Azalea, it’s just a handshake, business as usual.

Drake clears his throat. “AzzyJo, you’d better close that mouth unless you wanna catch flies.”

He smirks. She scowls.

“Drake Ulysses Collins, you shut your damn mouth.”

“You gonna make me, Little Bit?”

“Oh, my God?—”

“CHILDREN! Quit bickering. Goodness, some of us want to enjoy our meal,” Myla Rose snaps. Girl has fire, and damn if I don’t like it. Probably more than I should.

“Ain’t no damn child . . .” Drake mutters under his breath, sounding very much like a child.