The Bride Test(42)

He arched his eyebrows. “Jellyfish are those ocean creatures that sting you. Lots of tentacles.” He wiggled his fingers to imitate them. “Weird texture. They taste like nothing.”

She crossed her arms over chest. “I know what jellyfish are, and they don’t taste like nothing.”

Understanding slowly dawned upon him. “You’re excited. About jellyfish.”

“It’s good.”

“You weren’t this excited about the San Francisco Fairmont.” If you went by the price tag and venue exclusiveness, most people would be much more impressed by the Fairmont. Khai couldn’t help finding Esme’s enthusiasm for Seafood Plaza both entertaining and endearing.

She lifted a shoulder, but she smiled. “I like good food.”

“Let’s go in, then. I think you’ll be happy.”

As they crossed the parking lot, the gray smells of grease and age welcomed them. Yep, he knew this place, but it was different with Esme by his side. Everything was different with Esme. She didn’t need him to open and shut doors for her, didn’t want him to pay for everything or carry her stuff, didn’t mind if he stared at her body all day …

She reached for his arm but stopped before touching him. “You don’t like that.” Her head tilted as she thought, and then a smile stretched over her lips. She skipped a few steps ahead of him and rested a hand on her lower back. “Men put their hand here sometimes. When they’re walking or standing. If you do that, girls won’t grab your arm.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t mind her grabbing his arm—not anymore—but he held the words back. They needed more distance, not less.

“Try it. Maybe you’ll like it better.” Watching him over her shoulder, she stood still and waited.

This was ridiculous, but he did what she asked anyway. Then he wished he hadn’t. Seeing his large hand in the small of her back did things to him. Her spine had the most elegant curvature, this spot specifically, and some elemental part of him thrilled as he staked a claim on it.

His.

She smiled at him for a quick second before she continued toward the restaurant. With his hand there, he was achingly conscious of the way her hips swayed when she walked. Why was that so sexy?

They passed by huge aquariums in the front entryway that housed lobster, crab, and glum-looking fish and entered a seating area on the ground floor of the restaurant. All the chairs were vacant, and a hostess with a blue ballpoint pen in her hair directed them to take one of two spiral staircases up to the second level.

As they climbed the stairs, found their table assignment, and walked through the maze of round tables, keeping his hand in the small of her back became second nature to Khai. The heat of her skin soaked through the fabric of her dress and warmed his palm.

When they reached their table, Khai spotted a familiar buzzed head and set of shoulders. Quan turned around, grinned, and shot to his feet so he could give Khai a monster hug.

“Look at you.” Quan scrubbed a hand through Khai’s newly short hair. “Good haircut.”

“Thanks.” Khai pushed his brother’s hand away and stepped back.

“So here she is,” Quan said.

Khai suppressed the strange urge to wrap his arm around Esme’s waist. Instead of pulling her close like he wanted, he took a step away from her. “Esme, this is my brother, Quan. Quan, Esme.”

Quan took in the distance between Khai and Esme with a pensive expression on his face.

Esme rubbed at her elbow before smiling at him. “Hi, Anh Quan.”

When his brother’s face broke into a wide smile, Khai wasn’t able to relax like he should have. Instead, his muscles tensed up, and he watched Esme’s reaction, trying to interpret it. He didn’t know what he was looking for, what he wanted, but something important hinged on this moment.

Esme held her hand out for Quan to shake, but he gave her a funny look. “Really? A handshake?” He pulled her in for a hug, and she laughed as she hugged him back.

Khai had known these two would like each other, but the sight made acid churn in his stomach. With Quan’s designer suit and tattoos peeking above his collar, he had this reformed drug lord image, and Esme provided the perfect soft counterpoint to all that badassness. They looked good together.

Esme sat in the seat between Quan and Khai, but she turned toward Quan. In careful English, she said, “Thank you for helping with my dad.”

“No problem. Happy to do it,” Quan said, being his genuinely kind self. “So tell me about things so far here. How’s work and stuff? Do you like it?”

The acidic feeling in Khai’s stomach worsened as Esme grinned and told Quan all about her stay so far, speaking English like she wouldn’t with Khai and sharing things Khai hadn’t known. He never asked her about her day. That wasn’t how their dynamic worked. He tried to ignore her, and she inflicted conversation on him. But now he wished he’d thought to ask her about herself. Esme facts went in a special place in his mind, never to be forgotten, and it bothered him how little he actually knew.

The waiter came to their table and set a giant platter in the middle. It contained three types of cold meats and seaweed salad, and there was the jellyfish. It looked like rice noodles or sautéed onions but crunched against your teeth in the most disconcerting way.

Esme could barely contain herself as she waited for her turn to fill her plate, and then she ate with an enthusiasm that had Quan grinning. When she blushed, Quan grinned even harder.