Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(45)

“That pirouette you did in the air was cool.” Shawn stops beside us with his husband, Jack. “Cody said you’re terrified of heights. Why did you jump?”

“Why did you?” I counter, biting back a smile. “I don’t mind heights. It’s flying I can’t stomach, but you all looked like you were having so much fun up there...” I trail off, catching a glimpse of Nico as he enters the building.

Our eyes lock, and he slowly takes me in the way he always does, inch by inch, like he’s savoring every second. My chaotic feelings force my heart into a faster rhythm when he approaches our little gathering.

I’m silently, openly staring, and at least five seconds have passed since I stopped talking. “Once we got on the plane, I begged Nico to take me back down.”

“You didn’t want to go back down on a plane,” Nico says. “You would’ve said red instead of yellow and orange.”

“Red?” Cody questions.

“She told me not to let her back down but muttered no, and I don’t want to do this non-stop during the safety briefing, so I picked a safe word she could use if she really wanted to stop.”

“I used it. Just a little too late.”

Nico squares his shoulders when I smile at him, his posture tense, jaw clamped tight. The smile slips from my face as if falling off a cliff.

They talk about me screaming on the way down and the flips we did, but I’m not involved.

Was I na?ve to think Nico was interested after he kissed me back? I didn’t plan to kiss him. It just happened. Pumped up on adrenaline, I reached for the one thing I ever wanted this badly.

Someone taps a fork on a crystal glass, a signal for everyone to find their seats. Cody ushers me over there while Monica stands on the stage, thanking people for their lucrative donations. I’ve never been a guest at one of Monica’s Balls, but I heard plenty from the triplets. They rarely attend the uptight Friday evening dinner, so I know more about what happens tomorrow.

The room isn’t even half-full tonight, but an aura of importance surrounds every person here. I’m thankful to whoever created the seating plan when I sit across from Nico. Ten seconds later, I’m not so thankful. His face curdles into an expression of distaste, and his jaw works when he catches me staring.

He kissed me back. Why is he so annoyed?

The dinner is served by an army of overdressed waitresses in black and white outfits. One of them, a tall, dark-haired girl, steals Cody’s attention as she places a plate before him.

“I think she’s a little too young for you,” I say as his eyes walk her back toward the kitchen. “She looks about sixteen, Cody. Behave.”

He chuckles, moving the sauteed mushrooms I don’t like from my plate to his. “You look about twelve, Bug. Relax, I’m just enjoying the view.”

“I’m not tense, but... I don’t know. Maybe ask for ID? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He laughs again, drapes his hand across my shoulders, and pulls me closer, whispering in my ear. “I think Nico’s too old for you, but it doesn’t stop you looking, does it?”

“I’m... I’m sorry,” I stutter quietly, doing my best not to glance at Nico even though I feel his gaze. “I, um...”

“I know,” he whispers before I glue together a coherent sentence. “He’s hot, right?” He grins, moving away. “Eat. It’s getting cold.”

I poke the meat, my eyes drawn to Nico’s burning gaze on their own. He looks between Cody and me, the small frown pulling his eyebrows hard to decipher. I focus on my plate, forcing a few pieces of meat down my throat, and flushing them with my spritzer.

Irritation leaks like battery acid into my mind, and the idea I had in the car changes. Nico’s still getting what I bought him, but the execution will be different.

The dessert is served: chocolate brownies with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The waitress places a plate before Nico, and he drops his fork, making a lot of unnecessary noise.

I pinch my lips together, feeling smaller and meaner than a bee when I open my clutch bag, then reach for Nico’s plate. In its place, I leave a pouch of peanut M&Ms.

“You’d rather have this, wouldn’t you?”

He pins me with a pointed stare, his fingers balling into a tight fist on the table. For the first time, I don’t look away first. My heart triphammers in my chest, my knees quiver under the table, but I don’t look away.

He does. He pushes himself back with the chair that scrapes loudly against the parquet floor and storms out of the room, grasping the yellow packet of M&Ms.

Mission failed. He was supposed to say no, I’ll take a brownie every day or something along those lines.

Urgh, I really suck at this game.

Everyone at our table watches me, and a raging glow heats my cheeks. “It was a joke,” I mutter when Conor cocks a questioning eyebrow. “You had to be there to understand.”

“I was here, and I don’t get it.”

“Not now. We had a chat about brownies the other day.” I wave him off. “Never mind.” I push my dessert his way. “You want it? I don’t feel like sweets.”

He grins, digging into the brownie. He’s got a black hole instead of a stomach, I’m sure.

“Come on.” Cody takes my hand when the music changes from jazz to modern, signaling that the dancing can begin. “We’ll get this party started.”