Page 111 of Finding Denver

“Who else is coming?” I ask.

Helena avoids my eye. “Esme.”

Esme works for Finn as his accountant. We grew up together, too, but I haven’t seen her in a social setting in years.

“Why? Does she have a meeting with Finn?” I ask.

“Wine, Denver?” Helena asks sweetly.

Alison suddenly slaps her hands together. “Oh, Helena. You didn’t invite Esme for Colt?”

I freeze in place. “Please tell me you did not.”

Finn gives me a wide-eyed look that tells me he clearly didn’t divulge to his wife what he saw this morning. “Helena, why would you do that?”

She sighs. “It’s been years since you’ve put yourself out there, Colt. And Esme is lovely. What’s the harm in having dinner with?—”

“Not family dinner!” I hiss through my teeth. “I’m not ready to date!”

Ronan says, “And he was in bed with Denver this morning.”

The collective gasp that follows that revelation is far too dramatic, and I groan and wish I had a stronger drink.

“What?” Helena says, looking between us. “When did this happen?”

Denver hits my arm, and I wince. “You told Ronan?”

I rub my injured arm. “I didn’t tell anyone. Finn did!”

Helena hits Finn. “Why didn’t you tell me? Poor Esme is?—”

The front door opens and closes, and Esme calls out. “I’m late, but I have wine, so it doesn’t count!”

Danielle shimmies excitedly in her seat. “This is fucking great.”

Esme appears in the doorway in a flurry of long blonde curls, a bright red sweater and black jeans, and tugs off her coat. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and she places her bottle of wine down as she sits beside me. “Sorry, sorry, carry on with whatever you were saying.”

Danielle steeples her fingers under her chin, “Well?—”

“We weren’t discussing anything,” I say quickly. “We were eating. Having a family dinner and discussing family.” I point my fork at everyone. “And nothing else.”

Esme looks confused but shrugs. Danielle and Alison share wicked looks. Helena is glaring at Finn. Denver is staring at Esme.

This is a nightmare. It isn’t the first time Helena has dropped a date on me or tried to set me up with one of her friend’s daughters, but this is by far the worst. This is supposed to be Denver’s introduction to family dinner, not my reintroduction into the dating world. I don’t even want to date. I don’t need to. And I especially don’t want to be on a surprise date with the woman on my right after spending the night eating out the woman on my left.

“So, Esme, what do you do?” Denver asks.

Esme leans forward to look at her across me. “I’m an accountant. How about you?”

“Business owner,” Denver says, sipping her wine. “Coffee shops. Clubs. Casinos.”

“That’s cool. I like all three.”

Denver narrows her eyes. “Do you?”

Everyone is watching the interaction with far too much fascination. I have no idea what it is going on, but I know I’m uncomfortable as fuck.

“Denver is staying here,” Danielle says, her eyes darting between the two women like she’s just thrown a zebra leg between two hungry lions. “She just left her husband.”