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But I wasn’t the only one feeling good. When the men joined us outside, they were slapping each other’s butts and hurling the most diabolical insults I’d ever heard. Sarah warned them they were going to disturb the neighbors.

Eventually, some of the guys picked up our books and thumbed through the pages until they found passages they deemed worthy of reading aloud.

Even Graham joined in, plucking my book from the ground by my feet and flipping to the page Chase had been cackling about moments before.

And then, in an exaggerated deep voice, he said, “Her breath hitched as my fingers inched lower, slipping beneath the edge of her lacy panties.”

Meghan shrieked, covering her ears with two pillows. I laughed as she buried her face against my upper arm.

Graham smirked, and he kept going, lowering his voice even deeper, drawing out every word.

“She arched into my touch… lifting her hips in a silent plea,” he continued, standing at the center of the patio like he was delivering a lecture.

He paused for a beat, giving me the quickest glance over the top of the book.

I sat up taller, arching my back without really meaning to.

“When my finger grazed her clit with a featherlight touch, she gasped and—”

Meghan flung one of her pillows at the side of his head, and it was over. “Hearing my boss say the word ‘clit’ wasn’t on my bingo card for the night, that’s for damn sure,” she said, surrounded by laughter.

Graham just grinned, completely unbothered, as he returned the book beside my feet. I drew in a loud breath when his wrist brushed against my ankle, catching his gaze as he stood upright again. “This is what you read, huh?”

It took a second to register he was speaking to me. I swallowed. “And what if it is?”

What? Why the sass, Jill? I didn’t dare look to my left or right to see if anyone else was paying attention to us.

The edges of my vision were blurring, anyway.

All I saw was Graham, his eyes trailing up my body before landing on my face, like he wanted to know if I was really trying to flirt or if it was just the tequila talking.

“I’m not judging,” he said, the backyard becoming noisy around us.

He took a step toward me when Sean squeezed between him and the fire pit, forcing him to stay close.

I was still sunk back into that couch, the night breeze skimming over my bare knees.

But the rest of my body was warm—either from the alcohol or the intense way Graham was staring at me.

“In fact, I kind of want to pick up the book again, just to find out what happens next.”

“You should.” I took a sip of my drink and licked my lips, feeling the fabric of Graham’s dark jeans brush against my knee as he shifted even closer. “Some men might think of romance books as instruction manuals, you know.”

“Some men don’t need an instruction manual.”

Oh.

He hadn’t even taken a second to think. He just said it, in the same deep, confident voice he’d used when he was reading that steamy scene. Now he was using that voice on me, and it felt like the air had been sucked right out of my lungs.

I squeezed the hem of my dress against my thighs, my thoughts all scrambled.

Before I could come up with a response, Meghan crashed into me from behind, leaning over the back of the couch to wrap one arm around my neck in a semi-chokehold.

“Did you ever make that doctor appointment, my beautiful friend?”

I laughed, pushing her away. “I did, but I might cancel it. I’ve been feeling better for a couple of days and—”

“No!” she and Graham said in unison. Meghan even pinched me. “I’m going to drag you there myself, you stubborn little slut.”

That was quite the downgrade from “beautiful friend,” but I took it in stride.

Chase put both of his hands on her waist from behind. “All right, Meg. Let’s get you home.” And he dragged my friend away, making them the first couple of the night to say goodnight. Kendall, Mason, Sean, and Erika were next, all of them saying their kids wouldn’t let them sleep in the next day.

That left the Gardners, Graham, Xander, Abigail, and me.

Sarah was the only sober one, which made clean-up a little difficult. I lost my balance carrying an armload of empty bottles and plastic cups to the trash, and Xander grabbed me by the arms, steadying me. “Easy.”

“Don’t touch me,” I muttered, maneuvering past him into the bright kitchen, giving a side glance to Graham, who immediately looked away. Xander stood in the open doorway, half in the kitchen and half on the Gardners’ patio, scowling.

“I was just helping.”

“Didn’t need it,” I said, squeezing between Owen and Sarah to drop the glass bottles into the trash. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, but at that very moment, a plastic cup of some sticky concoction slipped out of Abigail’s hands onto the Gardners’ hardwood floor.

“Fuck!” she giggled out, and Sarah grabbed a mop from the closet.

Graham licked his lips, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “So… how’s everyone getting home? I’m afraid I can’t assist with that this time. I indulged a little too much myself tonight.”

Owen pulled a hand towel from a bar above their sink, thinking this over. “Everyone should stay until they sober up. We’ve got space,” he said. “Our guest bedroom’s been taken over by my projects, but we’ve got a big sectional. And a recliner that goes way back. Way, way back.”

His drunk eyes twinkled as he twisted the dish towel between his hands, grinning at his wife, who started to blush. “Owen Andrew Gardner, don’t you dare say another word.”

I’d had enough. “I’m not sleeping here,” I said, slamming shut the cabinet door that held their trash can.

It banged a little louder than I intended, but subtlety was never my strong suit after I’d had a few drinks.

I wasn’t the type of drunk who got weepy or sentimental.

Instead, I had the tendency to overreact to minor inconveniences and pick unnecessary fights.

I could feel it starting, but there was no way of stopping it.

“Jill,” Xander said, crossing his arms. I hated that patronizing tone of his, like I was some problem to be dealt with. “Come on.”

“I am not sleeping here,” I reiterated, ignoring the way Owen and Sarah exchanged looks like they didn’t know what to do with me.

But the last thing I wanted was to be in the middle of a Xander and Abigail sandwich in the Gardners’ living room.

What kind of friend would I be if I ruined their “only one bed” moment? They deserved it.

I could sleep on the patio until I sobered up, and everyone would be happy.

Before I could let them all in on my horrible plan, Graham cleared his throat and took a step toward Xander. “Hey. I’ve got two empty beds and a couch,” he said, his voice low like he was speaking only to Xander. It was clear this offer was meant for him. “If you wanna—”

“Perfect. I call Olivia’s bed,” I announced, gathering up my things. Without waiting for approval or telling anyone goodbye, I stomped toward the Gardners’ foyer like a woman on a mission. “Come on, Graham!”

I didn’t look back once. Not at Xander, who I wished I’d never gotten involved with in the first place. Not at Abigail, who was probably secretly delighting in my choice. Not at Owen and Sarah, who likely regretted inviting me that night.

But I would have loved to have seen the look on Graham’s face.