Maisey Yates - Take Me, Cowboy

“The favor’s mutual. I want to go to the fund-raiser. It’s important to me.”

“You still aren’t buying my dinner.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Then I’m going to overpay for rent on the shop next month,” she said, her tone uncompromising.

“Half of that goes to Sam.”

“Then he gets half of it. But I’m not going to let you buy my dinner.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and treating him to that hard glare of hers. “Yep.”

A few moments later the waiter came over, and Anna ordered her hamburger, and the cheeses she wanted, by pointing at the menu.

“Which cheese did you get?” he asked, attempting to move on from their earlier standoff.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I can’t pronounce it.”

They made about ten minutes of awkward conversation while they waited for their dinner to come. Which was weird, because conversation was never awkward with Anna. It was that dress. And those shoes. And his penis. That was part of the problem. Because, suddenly, it was actually interested in his best friend.

No, it is not. A moment of checking her out does not mean that you want to...do anything with her.

Exactly. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t anything to get worked up about. Not at all.

When their dinner was placed in front of them, Anna attacked her sweet potato fries, probably using them as a displacement activity.

“Chase?”

Chase looked up and inwardly groaned when he saw Wendy Maxwell headed toward the table. They’d all gone to high school together. And he had, regrettably, slept with Wendy once or twice over the years after drinking too much at Ace’s.

She was hot. But what she had in looks had been deducted from her personality. Which didn’t matter when you were only having sex, but mattered later when you had to interact in public.

“Hi, Wendy,” he said, taking a bite of his salmon.

Anna had gone very still across from him; she wasn’t even eating her fries anymore.

“Are you... Are you on a date?” Wendy asked, tilting her head to the side, her expression incredulous.

Wendy wasn’t very smart in addition to being not very nice. A really bad combination.

“Yes,” he said, “I am.”

“With Anna?”

“Yeah,” Anna said, looking up. “The person sitting across from him. Like you do on a date.”

“I’m just surprised.”

He could see color mounting in Anna’s cheeks, could see her losing her hold on her temper.

“Are you here by yourself?” Anna asked.

Wendy laughed, the sound like broken crystal being pushed beneath his skin. “No. Of course not. We’re having a girls’ night out.” She eyed Chase. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going home with the girls.”

Suddenly, Anna was standing, and he was a little bit afraid she was about to deck Wendy. Who deserved it. But he didn’t really want to be at the center of a girl fight in the middle of Beaches.

That only worked in fantasies. Less so in real life.

But it wasn’t Wendy whom Anna moved toward.

She took two steps, came to a stop in front of Chase and then leaned forward, grabbing hold of the back of his chair and resting her knee next to his thigh. Then she pressed her hand to his cheek and took a deep breath, making determined eye contact with him just before she let her lids flutter closed. Just before she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

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