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Chapter Forty-Five

IZZIE

J ackson and I enter the restaurant together but keep a safe distance between us. Grayson and Frederico are already seated, facing each other. That means I’ll be looking at Jackson’s handsome face all night. I’ll have to remember to not make googly eyes when I look at him. It will be hard when his proximity alone makes my body tingle.

“Everything all right?” Grayson asks when I pull out my chair.

“Yeah, everything is fine.”

“Let me help you with that.” He makes a motion to stand, but Jackson beats him to it, and he nudges my chair forward.

“I got it.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Good to see you got over your bad mood,” Frederico pipes up.

Jackson ignores him and sits down.

“Maybe you spoke too soon,” Grayson murmurs.

“I’m tired and hungry. Let’s order.”

Jackson is grumpy for real, but I know I’m not the reason. Or maybe I am. He’s having a hard time pretending, just like I am. I glance at the menu to distract myself from the desire that’s simmering just below the surface. “Everything looks good here.”

“You should get the surf n turf. It’s the best,” Jackson blurts out, surprising me.

“Oh. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Frederico leans closer and whispers, “Maybe you shouldn’t, considering it’s Darcy who’s suggesting it.”

Jackson glares at his friend. “Really? Why would I lie to her?”

“Surf n turf sounds lovely. I’ll order it if you do too?” I smile sweetly.

He stares at me for a couple beats, serious as hell. Then his lips curl upward. “You got it.”

Frederico frowns. “You guys are acting super weird.”

“You criticize me when I’m rude to Izzie, but when I’m civil, it’s weird. Make up your mind,” Jackson retorts.

Frederico opens his mouth, but the waiter stops by our table, cutting him off. He takes everyone’s drink order, and he’s about to walk away, when Jackson says. “We’re ready to order dinner too.”

“We are?” Grayson raises his eyebrows.

“I can come back in a bit,” the waiter replies.

“The lady and I will have the surf n turf,” Jackson says.

Lady . I snort out loud, earning a curious eyebrow raise from him.

“How do you like that cooked?” the waiter asks.

“Medium for me,” Jackson replies and looks at me, waiting for my answer.

I get lost in his blue eyes for too long and forget to answer the waiter. “Ma’am?”

“Oh, right. Same.”

Frederico and Grayson order next, but my ears are buzzing, and I don’t know what they get. All I know is that I don’t want this dinner to drag on, and I don’t think Jackson wants that either.

“So… Darcy. Did you memorize all your steps?” Frederico asks after the waiter leaves.

“Yes,” he grits out.

Frederico arches his brows. “Really?”

Grayson laughs. “Do you believe him, Izzie?”

“Well… Jackson never lies… or so he claims. We shall see tomorrow.”

Suddenly, Frederico sits up straighter in his chair. “Holy shit. You’re not going to believe who just came in.”

We all turn to see who got his attention. My jaw drops when I recognize Emma London, one of the biggest pop stars of the moment. She’s as petite as I thought she was, but much prettier in person. “Lydia loves her.”

“Great,” Grayson mutters, turning as stiff as a board.

Emma glances at our table, and her eyes widen before she walks over.

“Do you guys know her?” I whisper.

Before anyone can answer, Emma is standing by us with her hands on her hips. “Grayson Knight, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Oh, things just got interesting.

“Hi, Emma,” he breathes out as if it costs him.

Did Grayson and Emma have a fling that ended badly? My imagination is going wild, trying to guess what’s going on.

“Don’t ‘hi, Emma’ me. After two years of avoiding family events, the least you can do is to get out of that chair and give me a proper hug.”

Grayson’s face is pained as he stands up. Emma hugs him first, and he seems reluctant to return the gesture, but eventually he reciprocates.

When she steps back, she’s beaming from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you’re here. I missed you.”

He smiles, but it’s tight. “I missed you too.”

She turns to us. “Oh my God. You must think I’m so rude. Hi, I’m Emma, Grayson’s cousin.”

“You’re not my cousin,” he grits out, then turns to us. “She’s not my cousin.”

“Not by blood, but it still counts.” She looks in our direction. “My uncle is married to his aunt.”

Frederico stands up, smiling from ear to ear, and extends his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m a huge fan.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” She tilts her head. “You look familiar. Do you play with Grayson by any chance?”

“No. I’m a striker for the Miami Stars Futbol Club.”

Her blue eyes widen. “Oh, that’s awesome! I love soccer.”

“This is Jackson Darcy, and Izzie Bennet,” Grayson interjects rather rudely. I wonder why he’s bothered by Emma’s presence.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles, and I’m so starstruck that all I can do is croak a barely audible hello.

I’m still flustered when a tall and attractive man waves at Emma from across the room, catching her attention. “I’d better go. My date is waiting for me. Have a nice evening, y’all.”

It’s comical how Frederico’s expression falls, and now he’s matching Grayson’s sourpuss expression.

“So… what’s the story between you and Emma?” I ask.

“There’s no story,” Grayson replies without meeting my eyes.

Jackson and I trade a glance, and he seems as clueless about Grayson’s change of mood as me.

“Right… and water isn’t wet,” Frederico pipes up. “You looked as happy to see Emma as I am to get a prostate exam.”

“She seems all nice and sweet, but she’s the fucking devil. Trust me on this.”

Frederico looks in her direction longingly. “A beauty with the voice of angel and the antics of the devil? I think I’m in love.”

Grayson shakes his head, and then twists around searching for someone. “Where’s that damn waiter with our drinks?”

My phone vibrates in my purse. Thinking it could be Jane, I check the message.

JACKSON: How fast can finish your meal?

I look up, but the waiter is back and serving everyone’s drinks, so I can’t make eye contact with Jackson.

Depends how big it is.

I put the phone back in my purse quickly, lest one of the other guys notices I’m texting.

Frederico raises his glass. “A toast to the fun weekend ahead of us.”

“Cheers,” the rest of us say in unison.

I take a sip of my chocolate martini while holding Jackson’s stare. I’m being quite obvious right now, but I don’t care. Maybe the alcohol has already gone to my head.

I receive another text before I put my glass down. Surely it can’t be from Jackson. Quickly, I check my phone again, keeping it semi-hidden inside my purse.

JACKSON: I guarantee it won’t be as big as what I have.

Heat spreads across my face. I keep my head tipped down as I type a reply.

I’m okay eating only the surf part of my meal.

JACKSON: Good girl.

“Who’s making you blush like that, Izzie?” Frederico asks.

I whip my head up to face to him, probably looking guilty as hell. “No one.”

“Sure, sure.” He turns to Jackson. “It looks you have competition, buddy.”

He scowls. “Like I care.”

“Like you would be any competition,” I retort.

“Oooh. Shots fired.” Frederico laughs.

Jackson keeps staring at me as if he wants to throttle me, but his foot finds my leg under the table, and it’s telling me a very different story.

Where the hell is our food?