Page 35 of Three Bossy Boyfriends (Honeysuckle Harbor #3)

Evan

“What exactly are we celebrating again?” I ask Christopher, amused.

I was a little leery when he suggested coming to Raw in Honeysuckle Harbor because this is Finley’s stomping ground. Her brother, Ford, owns this restaurant with his best friend, Harrison. Finley’s sisters work here. The odds of running into any or all of them are very high.

Which isn’t exactly a big deal.

But I don’t want Finley to think we’re attempting to interfere in her life.

We’ve already blurred the hell out of the lines between personal and professional. I don’t want her to think we’re trying to invade her hometown too.

“We are celebrating your impending job offer.” Christopher says as the hostess guides us to a table.

“I don’t even have the offer yet,” I protest. The interview with Sanders and McSweeney went well, as far as I could gauge, but I haven’t heard anything officially.

Trust Christopher to just assume I’ll get it. I have a healthy sense of self, but he really believes in me. It’s really damn nice to have his constant support and encouragement, but this might be getting slightly ahead of ourselves.

“You’ll get the offer. Why wouldn’t you?” Christopher pulls my chair out at the table for me. “Now shut up and enjoy yourself.”

That makes me laugh. “Bossy as usual.”

His hand trails over my shoulder as he moves around to his own chair, accepting a menu from the hostess. When she hands one to me as well and leaves after her welcome speech, Christopher gives me a dirty smile.

“Maybe I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”

With planning this outing, I can’t tell if he’s trying to distract me or if he’s trying to remind me that we have a Finley problem.

Christopher told me Finley had a date last night with Tucker Hastings. On the one hand, I never saw that one coming. On the other hand, it made total sense given how caustic and abrasive she was around him.

That’s Finley speak for she’s hiding her true feelings.

Oh, I believe that she hates him. Or hates the way he treated her in high school.

But that doesn’t mean she isn’t attracted to him.

Christopher said something about a deal she’d made with Tucker.

The chance that Finley might be here at Raw is reasonable given her many connections to the restaurant. Christopher himself is glancing around like he expects her to pop out from behind the bar.

“Yeah, but here?” I ask quizzically. “We could have stayed in Charleston.”

“There’s a bourbon tasting tonight, that’s all.

Raw has launched a branded bourbon. No ulterior motives.

I know you love bourbon, so I thought you might enjoy it.

” Christopher holds up the menu. “They have a special menu tonight introducing their bourbons. We’ll grab a few appetizers and their bourbon pairings. ”

“Sure,” I say smoothly. “That sounds perfect.”

I do love the food at Raw, and the special menu they have tonight is designed to pair with their new bourbons.

As I go over the menu, Christopher is discussing a case he currently has.

He’s doing that lawyer thing where he can’t give details because of confidentiality, but he’s intrigued by the implications so he’s going around the specifics.

“I know I always said I was defending the law and not the client but this one leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” he says.

“We’re talking generational impacts on the environment and the coastline of South Carolina if this company is allowed to pursue the redevelopment project. I feel…uneasy about this.”

He looks genuinely concerned. That makes me frown. “Really? Then maybe you shouldn’t take the client.”

For a second, he doesn’t respond, then he just tilts his head slightly and eyes me. “I’ve honestly never considered that as an option. It’s an easy case to win, with power players and prestige guaranteed for whoever comes out victorious.”

“Is an easy win and prestige something you want at the expense of your integrity?”

“No. Not at all. I’ve just never considered saying no to, well, anything that might make the firm more successful. I’ve been building my career for almost twenty years, and that has meant I don’t always like my clients.”

“Not building your career. Built . You’re there, Christopher. You’ve earned the right to decline whatever cases you want at this point. You don’t have to compromise anymore.”

He looks thunderstruck by the very concept. “Jesus. That almost seems…outrageous. You young’uns. Always telling people to do whatever they want.”

That makes me laugh. “You’re not eighty, for fuck’s sake. You’re ten years older than me.”

“Twelve, but who’s counting? But you’re right. You’re absolutely right. I can say no. I don’t have to compromise anymore.”

It almost sounds like he’s talking about more than work.

I want to expand on that concept, but the server comes over.

We order charred oysters that are intended to complement the rye bourbon.

Harrison Reed strolls up behind the server while we’re debating other appetizers. “If you want the wheated bourbon, order the brisket. Fatty meats bring out the caramel flavor in the bourbon.”

“This might be where I confess that I like to drink it, but I don’t know much about it,” I admit.

Harrison laughs. “You and a million other people. If you’re curious, we can move you over to the bar. I’m going to be going through the three bourbons we’re launching. You can have a flight and my personal recommendation for an appetizer for each.”

“I would love that.” I look over at Christopher. “What do you think?” It occurs to me that maybe he wants a quiet dinner, not hanging out at the bar.

“It’s whatever you want,” he says. “Let’s head to the bar.”

“Jessica, I’ll move them over. Tell Brittany she can reseat your table,” Harrison tells our server.

“Got it, boss.”

We both stand up. It’s then that I see among several people seated at the bar, Tucker Hasting’s unmistakable frame is down toward the end. My heart threatens to skip a beat. Is Finley with him? But there is a man next to him. No sign of Finley.

I glance over at my boyfriend. He, too, has noticed. He shakes his head, indicating he doesn’t see Finley either.

I do see her brother, though.

Considering Ford thinks I cheated on Finley with Christopher, this is potentially awkward. As Harrison points to two empty stools and goes around the bar, Ford has spotted us and his eyebrows raise. He fixes a polite smile on his face.

“How’s it going?”

“Harrison suggested we sit here to get the best tasting experience,” Christopher says.

He squeezes my knee in reassurance and solidarity.

“Harrison is correct. And just to clear the air, my sister can be a little prickly, Evan, so no hard feelings that it didn’t work out for you with her.”

I’m fucking floored. Anything that I thought he might say was nothing like that.

I thought he’d be defending Finley, not agreeing she somehow earned my disloyalty.

Christopher stiffens next to me, and I think he’s about to give Ford his best change-your-attitude speech that I’ve heard him give unruly clients.

But this feels like my time to stand up for Finley.

“There is nothing prickly about Finley. She’s passionate and vulnerable and intelligent and feels a little bit like she’s all alone on an island in your family.

Not that it’s anyone’s damn business, but Finley knew Christopher and I had feelings for each other.

This—I point between me and Christopher—didn’t happen without her knowledge.

I don’t know what she’s told you, but I think Finley is an incredible and giving woman, and I care about her as a person and as a friend, so none of you need to feel sorry for her.

If anything, you might want to reconsider your own relationship with her instead of worrying about mine. ”

I don’t dress people down ever. It’s not in my nature. I succeed as a lawyer with research and a calm personality that allows clients to feel safe in my presence.

But I’m angry on Finley’s behalf and I’m so pissed off, my hand is actually shaking on my thigh. “Finley deserves to be treated like fucking gold,” I add emphatically, then force myself to shut my mouth.

I realize it appears I didn’t exactly do that, so who the fuck am I coming in here and popping off, but they don’t know the full story. They don’t know that I’m falling in love with Finley.

Ford’s hard stare eases up, and he nods in approval. “Okay, then. I believe I have my answer about how you feel about Finley.”

My jaw drops, and when a small tumbler of bourbon appears in front of me by the staff bartender, I quickly lift it to my lips and take a hard swallow. The burn is as hot as my emotions right now.

“We both care about Finley,” Christopher says, covering my hand with his. “We want the absolute best for her.”

“It seems so does Tucker Hastings,” Harrison says, moving smoothly down the backside of the bar and pulling out a bottle of Raw bourbon.

“This is our wheaten bourbon that I told you about. Then we have our straight barrel, and a rye, which is peppery and spicy. We’ll serve that last for you with the dessert course because the vanilla in Frannie’s butter cookies will balance out that spice. ”

I barely hear a word about Tucker Hastings. I just take the plate that is put in front of me with some sort of prosciutto-wrapped something and shove a piece of it in my mouth. I don’t even really look to see what it is.

Of course I knew Finley was with Tucker last night. Christopher told me they had a date. But I hadn’t taken that to the conclusion that other people would know about it. Which, of course they would. All of her siblings work together. This is a small town. People talk.

“Holy shit, that’s smooth,” Christopher says, sipping the bourbon. “Caramel, honey, I’m getting it all. It’s delicious.”

Christopher doesn’t even drink bourbon as much as I do but right now, it just tastes like liquid to me. My boyfriend doesn’t sound at all rattled by Harrison’s comment about Tucker.

Which begs the question, why am I overreacting? I already knew Finley was out with him.

“Speak of the man,” Ford says. “Here’s Tucker now.”

This is exactly why I didn’t think being here was a good idea. I would have much preferred a night out in Charleston with Christopher. Just him and me. I know that vibe. I feel good about our dynamic.

Even if I can’t get Finley out of my head half of the time.

None of this is helping.

Christopher has set his glass back down half full, and I pick it up and throw it back. He raises his eyebrows.

“Babe,” he says.

Then he leans in, cups my cheek, and kisses me softly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure this out.”

I know what he means. He means we’ll figure out how we’re feeling about Finley and what to do about that going forward. We’re a team.

It instantly calms me down.

So when Tucker comes up behind us and claps us both on a shoulder and says, “Hey! My favorite lawyers!” my warm reaction is genuine.

“Tucker. Good to see you.” I hold my hand out to shake his.

But Tucker clasps my hand in his and gives me a shoulder bump. “Bring it in here. You guys saved me so much damn money. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Hey, Tucker. Great to see you,” Christopher says, accepting the same hug. “Damn. I always forget how huge you are.”

Tucker laughs. “You should see my sister.”

Harrison snorts.

I’m not sure what to say to that.

But Tucker keeps going. “She’s barely five feet tall, and my hair weighs more than she does. Genetics are a mindfuck.”

“Or you’re adopted,” Harrison says with a grin.

“In this town? I would have known by age three if that was the case.” He pulls out a stool next to Christopher and sits down.

Tucker has a great vibe. Even when he was being sued, he always assumed it would work out for him. I enjoy his presence, so I get why Finley likes hanging out with him.

“What do we got?” Tucker asks, putting his forearms on the bar.

“This is our single barrel,” Ford says as Harrison pours.

“Excellent,” Tucker says. Then he looks at me and Christopher and grins. “I act like I know what the fuck that means, but I don’t.”

“It’s aged in a single barrel,” Harrison tells us.

Tucker cracks a laugh. “Well, damn. I guess that was obvious.” He raises his hand and moves it in a gesture of “over his head.”

“This has only been aged for two years, so it has a smoky oak flavor with hints of vanilla.”

I sip the bourbon, wondering if there’s any way to ask how his date with Finley went without looking like a total asshole.

There isn’t, so I just enjoy the appetizers and the bourbon and the light flow of conversation going on.

Christopher has all kinds of technical questions about the process, which Ford is answering. Harrison has brought out chocolate pieces for us to eat as we sip.

But then he surprises me by asking Tucker, “What was that speech about last night at Swanson’s? You declaring your love for Finley.”

I choke on the latest bourbon presented to me, a rye.

I’m starting to think I’m getting a little drunk. I’ve finished two out of three of Christopher’s drinks, plus downed all of my own.

That’s my explanation for me blurting out, “You’re in love with Finley?”

That’s absurd after one date. It feels too soon. But then again, he’s known Finley for twenty years.

And Finley is…Finley. She’s easy to fall hard and fast for.

Christopher gives me a little head shake in warning.

But Tucker doesn’t seem affronted by the question. “It’s just a little thing between me and Finley. I was a teenage jackass, and she deserved payback.”

I think I can actually breathe again. I chew the lump of chocolate in my mouth and take back the rest of the rye. “Can I have another one of those?” I ask, feeling both relieved and concerned still, all at the same time.

I don’t want to let Finley go.

“Finley deserves whatever she wants,” Christopher agrees.

If we were alone with Finley, he would give her a hard time about being a brat. He would say she deserves to be punished. I love that byplay they have together.

I might even love her.