Page 4 of Jilted
Brett laughed. “Yes, ma’am. Fun. Got it.”
He pulled up in front of the restaurant and put the car in park. Getting out, he handed his keys to the valet, then walked around to Amy’s side and opened her door. He took her hand and helped her out of the car.
“Thank you,” she said as he escorted her inside.
Brett couldn’t help but feel like he was on a date with Amy and that was just too weird. He had to shake this off or the night would be a bust. They were seated at a table in the back of the restaurant. Their waiter poured them a complimentary glass of white wine and left them to look at the menu.
“God, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippo on steroids,” Amy said.
He laughed at her and all the awkward tension he felt disappeared. Just like that, Amy was simply Amy again, his best friend.
“Go crazy, you’re paying.” He winked at her over the menu, knowing full well that there was no way in hell he was letting her foot the bill for tonight.
Their waiter returned several moments later. “Are you ready to order?”
“Yes.” Amy smiled. “I’ll have the lobster Alfredo with a salad, light on the dressing please.” She closed the menu and set it on the table. “Oh, and we’d like a bottle of Dom Perignon, too, please.”
“And for you, sir?”
“I think I’m going to go with the steak Florentine,” Brett said.
“Salad for you as well?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, please. No onion, extra dressing.” The waiter nodded then left. Brett raised a brow at Amy. “Big spender tonight I see.”
Dom Perignon was Amy’s favorite champagne. It was also very pricey.
“It’s not every day your best friend lands a job on the most popular television show. If this isn’t a reason to spend frivolously, then what is?”
Brett shrugged and smiled. “You don’t always need a reason to splurge, you know.”
“No, but when you do, it makes it that much more fun.”
Her big hazel eyes twinkled, and he was suddenly very warm. He grabbed his glass of ice water and took a long drink. It was going to be a long night.
Brett stood at the crowded bar and waited, impatiently, for the bartender to acknowledge him. Amy was on the dance floor with a couple of women she’d met at the club tonight. She had a real knack for making friends wherever she went, which had paid off tonight because he’d spent more time waiting in line at the bar than he had dancing with her.
He looked around the club and let his gaze settle on Amy. Damn that woman knew how to move. He smiled as he watched her, but it quickly faded when he saw the group of men to her right. They were watching her, smiling, nodding, and acting like they were trying to get their long-haired friend to go talk to her. Sure enough, moments later, the hippie looking friend approached Amy.
Oh, hell no! Brett and Amy had one rule that they never broke: no picking up dates while they were out together. He’d be damned if he let some guy try to pick her up tonight. Leaving his place at the bar, Brett made his way toward Amy, reaching her the same time the other guy did.
Brett pulled Amy to him and started dancing with her. He gave the guy a dirty look that said, “Back off, she’s taken.”
Amy leaned forward and put her mouth near his ear. “I thought you were getting drinks.”
“Line was too long.” He spun her around and then pulled her to him again. Dancing with her like this, for fun, was so much better than dancing in a choreographed routine.
“Well, I need some water.” Amy fanned her face with her hand and motioned for him to follow her.
He did, and they stood at the bar. Only this time, it didn’t take so long to get a drink. They made their way toward an empty table in the corner.
“Phew.” Amy plopped down in the seat and laughed. “Man, it’s hot in here.” She reached into her glass of water and grabbed a piece of ice, which she proceeded to rub around her neck and down her chest.
Brett’s throat went dry watching her, watching the way she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the way her lips were slightly parted as if suspended on a sigh of satisfaction. It stirred feelings in him that he shouldn’t be feeling for his best friend.
He motioned for the waitress walking around with a tray of shots and bought four of them. Maybe if he consumed more alcohol, he wouldn’t notice Amy so much, or at least if he did, he could pass it off on being drunk and not have to worry about the repercussions of ogling his best friend.
“Would you look at them?” Amy nodded to her right.
