Mine Would Be You (25)

Harper nods. “Well, we’ll be here every step of the way whenever you’re ready.”

• • •

The sun just touches the tops of my shoulders from where we’re seated outside of The Tavern. It’s a rustic, industrial-style spot. Hard metal bars hold up the awning, blocking most of the sun’s rays, and the same black bars line the window frames. Inside and out, cherry wood tables line the restaurant. All around us, green vines crawl up the bars, and plants decorate the space.

We sip on the waters we were given when we sat as we wait to order. Sloan takes a sip and glances at Harper. “Are you still talking to Roman? The one from the wedding?”

Harper raises a brow, flipping the menu even though I’d bet money she gets what she always does. “We’re not talking. We’re just sleeping together.”

Sloan rolls her eyes, and I hold in a laugh, because while what Harper said is true, she also talks to him more than any of her usual hook-ups. She texts him all the time, even calls him some days when they don’t see each other. But I’m not going to push her. If she doesn’t want to admit she likes him yet, I am in no room to expect more.

“Whatever. When you admit it though, I am going to say I told you so to both of you,” Sloan mumbles with a bop of her head.

I’m about to interrupt when two tall frames cast a shadow over the table from over the barrier between us and the street. We all look up, and my eyebrows shoot up when I see Roman and Jackson standing there.

“Well, hi.” Roman grins.

Sloan’s cheek twitches. “How ironic. We were just talking about you.” I watch, amused, as Harper slaps her on the shoulder, though Sloan’s wide smile never fades. Briefly, I make eye contact with Jackson, whose eyes light up under the sun.

Harper finally collects herself. “Do you guys wanna join? We can pull up chairs.” She directs her gaze to me, a smirk on her lips, and if I was next to her, I would be the one hitting someone on the shoulder.

Roman and Jackson share a quick glance and then nod. “We’d love to.” They walk around to the entrance as Harper finds two extra chairs and lets our server know.

Both men appear at the table moments later. Even though Harper and Sloan know who he is, saw him briefly in the bar, they’ve never officially met him, and Jackson takes the time to fully introduce himself as I take in his appearance.

In some weird coincidence, we’re matching again. He’s wearing a light blue, button-down shirt, the first few buttons undone, his tan skin peeking through, and simple pressed slacks. His blond curls are even lighter than last time, the glow of the sun brightening them, and they’re pushed back by the Ray Bans atop his head, but a few stray strands pop out.

Finally, his eyes focus on me as he slides into the seat next to me. They trail slowly down my body and back up to my eyes, sparkling with amusement in their usual fashion. My body reacts almost instantly as I look back into his deep blue eyes and fight to keep the smile from my face. Little sparks of electricity bounce between us, and I swear I feel them land on my skin like fireflies.

Jackson spreads his arm across the back of my chair, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fancy running into you again.”

I feel the heat wanting to flush my cheeks as I raise a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalking me.”

He leans towards me ever so slightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.” He holds his lips into a forced frown, almost like a pout.

“Well, if I was, it really isn’t working now, is it?”

His lips pull into a full smile. “Sorry, Nina, it’s gonna take more than that.”

“I guess I’ll have to step it up then,” I say. “We match again.” I point it out this time to make sure he understands I’m not actually annoyed with his appearance at our brunch.

Those blue eyes flick between my dress and his shirt before landing back to me, and the tension between us pulls just a little bit tighter as his gaze lingers. “We do.”

I don’t miss the way the shirt tugs at the lean muscles on his arms or the flash of skin where it’s unbuttoned, and it sends a wave of heat over me that isn’t from the temperature. Before he can say anything else, the waiter appears to take our drink orders.

Harper and Roman both order Bloody Marys which, as usual, Sloan and I turn our noses up at. “We’re gonna do a pitcher of bottomless for us two,” I say.

“Make that three,” Jackson chimes in and flashes me a smile before turning back to the waiter, who smiles and nods before disappearing.

“Our third mimosa buddy. I love this,” Sloan says and flashes Jackson her signature grin. I can’t help the roll of my eyes.

“I’m honored to be included,” he says, placing his left hand over his chest, because his other arm stays draped over the back of my chair. When he looks away to say something to Roman, Sloan lowers her glasses and raises her eyebrows at me before pushing them back up as the drinks are placed on the table.

We order our food. Harper gets her usual stack of French toast and a side of turkey bacon, while Sloan sticks to her omelet platter, and I get my usual waffle piled with strawberries and whipped cream.

We fall into easy conversation about basic stuff, like Roman’s job in social work and with foster kids, how Jackson works at a high-end PR firm on Wall Street, and how they’ve been best friends since their freshman year of college and moved to New York together when they graduated.