Page 19 of I Could Be Yours (The Toronto Terror #6)

They’re all wearing little black dresses and the sashes I spent my entire night running around to deliver.

They read BEA’S BABES, and I guess they’re essential to the evening.

I’m suppressing an eye roll even now. Whatever.

What I do know is that the picture Essie sent has nothing on how good she looks in three dimensions.

Her hair falls in loose waves over her bare shoulders, her makeup is artfully applied, and her dress highlights every damn one of her physical assets.

As per usual, she receives a lot of double takes and flirty smiles.

“You don’t mind if we move the tables together, do you, bro?” Tristan claps me on the shoulder.

“Not at all,” I lie.

The host and servers jump into action, pulling out Essie’s chair, falling all over themselves to offer their assistance. She bats her lashes and smiles.

It irks me that these guys keep treating her like a pretty object to admire and she just…allows it. Or maybe I’m just pissed because she’s aiming the same smile she gives me at someone else. Or it could be that back in high school, I fit into that category, and I still feel shitty about it.

I end up next to Essie once our tables are pushed together. She pulls a compact out of her purse and fluffs her hair.

“You don’t need to keep checking to make sure you’re still beautiful,” I murmur. “Just ask me, and I’ll tell you. ”

Her gaze lifts to my eyebrows. “How is it possible for you to look angry while giving a compliment?”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact.”

She reaches up and smooths her finger between my eyebrows.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re in Vegas, Nate. Your furrowed brow belongs back in Canada.”

I roll my eyes. “You hijacked my boys’ weekend.”

“And you hijacked my girls’ weekend, so it looks like we’re even. All this moping will give you wrinkles, so you should try having a little fun.”

She winks and turns her attention to Rix, who thinks everything on the menu sounds good.

And just like the last time we were at a restaurant, I end up constantly passing things to Essie.

She leans in, fingers dragging along my forearm. “Can you pass me your balls?”

I quirk a brow. “They’re not detachable.”

Her nose wrinkles and she tips her head, pointing with one pretty nail to the dish on my left. “The chicken balls, Nathan.”

“That’s not what you said,” I grumble and pass her the plate.

“I think your mind is in the gutter,” she whispers.

“I wonder why.” But maybe I am hearing things.

She crosses her legs under the table, and her bare foot slides up the back of my calf and rests there. “Where are you boys headed after this?” she asks the table.

The guys look to me. “Nate is keeping the itinerary under wraps,” Tristan notes.

“It’s staying that way, too.” I side-eye Essie.

I won’t be able to handle Essie in this dress, at a club, being hit on.

After dinner, the girls head up to their rooms to get ready for their night out.

I need a minute to come down from the overstimulation of sitting next to Essie and not being able to kiss the knowing smirk off her face.

I convince the guys to go to the hotel bar for drinks and not follow them up to their rooms.

“We should play a drinking game.” If I get good and wasted, I might not cave and send Essie late-night messages asking for all the things she’s been texting me today.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Tristan asks.

“I’m not telling you until tomorrow.” I don’t trust him or any of the other guys not to blab to their girlfriends and wives.

“What about a hint?” Roman asks.

“No hints.”

“What time do we have to be awake?” Flip asks.

“We won’t leave the hotel until eleven.” I planned it so we could have fun tonight and not regret it too much tomorrow.

The bartender arrives with drinks.

“Okay. How about a round of Never Have I Ever? I’ll go first.” It’s been ages since I’ve played a drinking game. “Never have I ever gone more than a year without sex.” I take a swig of my beer.

“Wait, you drank. Does that mean you have or haven’t gone more than a year without sex?” Flip asks.

“I have gone without it.”

“We’ve all gone without sex for more than a year if you count all the years prior to losing our virginity,” Dallas says.

“I mean in the last decade,” I clarify.

Both Roman and Hollis drink, then side-eye each other. It must be really fucking weird to have your best friend in a relationship with your daughter.

“You’ve gotten action since you and Lisa broke up, haven’t you?” Tristan asks.

“Of course.” I scoff. I don’t need to tell him it only happened recently, or that it was a handy provided by Rix’s best friend.

There was one night at a bar just after Lisa and I broke up, but it ended badly, and there was definitely no sex.

I’m just glad I moved back to Toronto, so I’ll never run into that woman again.

Flip frowns. “Really? Because you’ve been living with me for almost a year, and I’m pretty sure you’ve never gone on a date or brought anyone home.”

“You’re on the road half the year. You don’t know what happens when you’re gone.”

“Yeah, but Dred would tell me if you brought someone home. She worries about you, honey bear.”

“This is supposed to be a drinking game, not a psychoanalyze-Nate game,” I snap. “Tristan. Your turn.”

“Check out this picture of a mousse cake in the shape of a peach Bea just sent me.” He shows the table his phone.

“Dude, this is supposed to be a boys’ weekend.

” I slap the table to get their attention.

“Put your freaking phones away! You can handle a few hours of separation from your girlfriends and wives.” I make meaningful eye contact with everyone, then check my watch.

“We should hit the club.” Hopefully that will distract these guys enough to keep them off their phones and in the freaking moment.

Flip pays the tab, and we finish our drinks, then head to the club—conveniently attached to our hotel—where I’ve reserved table service.

The bass is pumping, forcing us to yell over the music to hear each other. The dance floor is crowded with gyrating bodies. We climb the stairs to the VIP lounge, and I’m hit with a wave of emotion.

Annoyance is the first thing to wash through me, followed by unsettling relief. Because sitting front and center are the girls. And in the middle of them is Essie.

As much as I don’t want them to keep hijacking our weekend, I also don’t love the idea of them partying it up without a bodyguard or two. Sure, they can handle themselves, but I feel infinitely better knowing we’re here as backup.

And tonight, they look like they might need it.

Essie has changed into a sparkly, pale pink number that hugs every curve of her magnificent body.

Her long hair is now pinned up, so it spills down her back in waves and exposes the elegant curve of her neck.

Her eyes are rimmed in dark liner and her lips are a glossy pink.

I already know they taste as good as they look.

“You didn’t plan this, did you?” Flip asks.

“Nope. I sure didn’t.”

“Seems like the universe might be trying to tell you something.”

I give him a questioning look.

His grin turns wry. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Rix is the first to notice us. She jumps up from the table and flounces over to Tristan, throwing her arms around his neck. “Did you use the tracking app to hunt me down?”

“I didn’t even think to check, to be honest. I was trying to give you girl time and not piss my brother off.” He nods my way.

“I’m getting a drink,” I announce.

“We have a bottle already; just join our table,” Rix says.

If you can’t get away from them, drink with them, I guess. My frown deepens as Essie’s smile widens. “You’re so gleeful about this.”

She passes me a glass full of liquid and ice. I take a tentative sip. It’s tequila.

“And you’re such a grumpy bear.” She presses her finger to the edge of my lips and tugs up. “You’re pretty when you smile.” She winks and brushes past me, linking fingers with Rix as they move to the dance floor.

It doesn’t take long for the couples to join them.

Shilpa, Lexi, and Dred hang out in the VIP booth with Roman and Ash.

I lean against the railing and observe from a distance, trying and failing to keep my eyes off Essie.

And I’m not alone. There are plenty of guys checking her out. It’s fucking infuriating.

She crooks her finger at me, an invitation to join them. I sure as hell don’t want Flip dancing with her. I knock back the rest of my drink and make my way through the throng of bodies until I finally reach the group.

She settles her palm on my shoulder, and I bend until her lips brush the shell of my ear. “I can’t decide if you look angry or horny.”

“Definitely both, but probably more the latter than the former.”

She pulls me away from the group by my belt loop.

No one notices, too caught up in their partners to pay attention to us.

Essie drapes one hand over my shoulder. “What are you angry about? You showed up at the same club as us, not the other way around. If anyone should be annoyed, it’s me.

Especially since you’ve been watching me like a hawk for the past half hour.

You’re scaring all the prey away.” She waggles her brows.

I laugh. “You think you’re the predator?”

“People like pretty things. Even if they might bite them.”

“You haven’t bitten me.”

“Not yet, no.” Her expression softens. “I meant what I said. You’re beautiful when you smile.”

“You’re drunk,” I observe. But secretly I like that she thinks this about me.

“I’m tipsy and happy and horny,” she clarifies.

“Sounds like a dangerous combination.” And possibly my favorite.

She runs her nails down the back of my neck, sending a shiver along my spine. “Or the perfect combination.”