Page 88 of Most Likely to Deny Love

“Glad I made it in time, then.” Jack’s hand settled briefly on my shoulder, a casual touch that nonetheless sent heat spiraling through me. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Please,” Poppy gestured to the empty chair a server had brought over. “We were just discussing Paris.”

“Were you now?” The flash of heat in his eyes made me blush. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure inviting him had been such a good idea after all.

JACK

Iclaimed the empty chair, shifting it closer to Mia until our knees touched beneath the table. Her friends watched with poorly disguised interest, like scientists observing a rare specimen in the wild. The sapphire on Mia’s finger caught the dim bar light, throwing blue fire across the table as she reached for her wine glass. My heart did a strange little stutter at the sight of her wearing it so openly.

“So, Jack,” the pink-haired one, Poppy, swayed drunkenly as she leaned forward. “Mia was just telling us about Paris.”

“So you’ve said.” I glanced at Mia, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed. “Which parts, exactly?”

Before Mia could answer, Emily suddenly stiffened beside her, eyes fixed on something across the bar. “Shit. Don’t look now, but Tiffany just walked in.”

Everyone at the table tensed, though they made admirable attempts to appear casual. Mia’s hand jerked instinctively, fingers covering the ring. Her voice was tight when she whispered, “Are you sure?”

Emily nodded grimly. “Three o’clock. Near the pool tables. She’s just caught sight of us, I think, but she’s trying to pretend she hasn’t.”

I resisted the urge to turn and look, instead taking a slow sip of the questionable whiskey the waitress had brought me.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Maya asked.

“Only if she comes over here and sees these two looking like they’re about to tumble in to bed. But don’t worry, I’m on it,” Emily declared, already typing furiously on her phone. After a moment, she looked up with a triumphant grin. “Hannah just pulled up. She’ll be in in ten seconds. She knows what to do.”

Mia’s forehead creased. “What exactly is Hannah going to?—”

“Just trust me,” Emily cut her off, her eyes darting toward the door. “And whatever happens, play along.”

The bar door swung open, and a slim woman with curly blonde hair strode in with purpose. Hannah, I presumed, from the way Emily subtly nodded in her direction. Without hesitation, she made a beeline for our table, her eyes locking on mine with determination that would have been unsettling if I hadn’t been forewarned.

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” she announced loudly, before promptly dropping into my lap and pressing a firm kiss to my cheek.

I caught Mia’s expression in that split second and my heart lurched. It was a flash of something raw and hurt, before it was quickly smothered. It was gone so quickly I might have imagined it, but the tension radiating off her told me otherwise.

“Hannah, Tiffany saw every second of that,” Emily stage-whispered, “you’re a lifesaver.”

Hannah beamed, shifting to make herself comfortable on my lap. To her credit, she kept a respectable distance despite our compromising position. “Anything for the cause. Now, where are we putting me?”

Everyone scrambled to rearrange chairs, pulling another seat from a nearby table. In the shuffle, Mia was nudged further away from me, Hannah taking the place between us. The physicaldistance was small, but Mia’s smile was tight. I fucking hated seeing her pushed aside like this. Hated the small flickers of doubt and insecurity that crossed her face when she thought no one was looking.

“I’d sure love to go to Paris,” Samara was saying. “What was your favorite part, Mia?”

Before Mia could respond, a shadow fell across our table. Tiffany stood there, flanked by her two friends, fake smile plastered on her face. “Well, isn’t this cozy.” Her eyes gleamed with malice. It was very fucking clear she thought this was some sort of gotcha moment between her and Mia.

Mia’s sleeve slid further down, completely covering her left hand. “Just a casual get-together,” she replied, her voice impressively steady. “These are my friends from high school. You know Emily. And this is Poppy, Maya, Sammy, and Hannah.”

Tiffany’s smile was flat. “How nice. And Mr. Sullivan, slumming it at Lacey’s? I wouldn’t have expected to see you here.”

“I’ve been told I work too much,” I replied smoothly. “Trying to remedy that.”

Hannah giggled, winding her arm around my shoulder. “And we’re very glad he is. Right, girls?”

A chorus of enthusiastic agreement rose from the table.

“I see.” Tiffany’s gaze lingered on Hannah, then flickered to Mia, whose expression revealed nothing. “Well, don’t let me interrupt. My friends and I just stopped in for a quick drink before heading out.”

“Have a good night,” I said with finality, making it clear the conversation was over.

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