Page 25 of The Sebastian Guarantee
She glanced down the street, eyeing the different businesses’ awnings, then snapped her fingers.
“Phoebe, are you sure you’re all right?”
She looked around the patio. “Hold on, Seb. Before we leave, I need to say goodbye.”
Say goodbye?
He did a quick check of the outdoor dining area. Every pair of eyes was glued to them.
He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you really know these people? Maybe we should forget the goodbyes and make a quick exit.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “Sebby,” she replied, conviction laced into the two syllables, “these people shared a transformational moment with me.”
“Yeah, okay.” There was no use fighting her. The only thing he could do was brace for the awkwardness impact.
Phoebe picked up a tube-shaped item wrapped in foil—most likely a hot dog—and extended her arms. “Happy hour friends, today you were with me when my dreams of finding my match with my love match hot dog went down the drain.”
Sebastian grimaced. Forget awkwardness. This was pure mortification.
“Mustard was squirted, and hearts were bruised but not broken.” She paused, possibly for effect, or maybe because she was hammered and had forgotten what the hell she was doing. Recovering, she pressed the wrapped hot dog to her chest. “I want to let you know that I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about your girl, Phoebe. My best friend, Sebastian ‘Mr. Lickable Abs’ Cress, is here.”
“Mr. Lickable Abs?” he repeated.
Phoebe blinked, trying to hold his gaze. “What?”
“You called me Sebastian ‘Mr. Lickable Abs’ Cress.”
Her eyes widened. “No, I certainly did not.”
Murmurs rippled through the air.
“I thought that was him.”
“Did you see that video where he totally snubbed those tech girls?”
“The guy might be hot, but he’s a jerk in real life.”
Sebastian swallowed hard. The last thing either of them needed was to go viral. They had to hightail it out of this bistro.
“Fine, you didn’t call me Mr. Lickable Abs, but it’s time for us to go,” he conceded, hoping that would get her moving.
“Okay, Seb, but I have to say one last thing.”
He scanned the area. Now they had people stopping on the sidewalk to gawk.
“Make it quick,” he murmured and scooped up her cell phone and shoved it into his pack.
She lifted a nearly empty martini glass. “Happy hour friends, I raise a drink to you. And . . . please don’t believe what it says on Phoebe Gale’s Info Darling page. Right here, right now, I’m setting the record straight.” His loquacious best friend eyed the foil-wrapped item in her hand, then held it above her head. “I am not attracted to hot dogs.”
Oh, fuck.
This would be an excellent time for Mother Nature to send in a few lightning bolts. Instead, a nervous waiter approached.
Sebastian waved the man over. “If it’s not patently obvious, I need to get my friend out of here. Does she have a tab I can settle?”
The waiter shook his head. “The bill has been covered by another patron.”
“Somebody else paid for these drinks?”
