He follows in after me and ensures our thighs are touching when I settle in against the cushioned back. Well, isn’t this incredibly cozy. I’m about to reach for a napkin and fan away my blush, but Cayden isn’t satisfied until I’m dead and buried.
Placing his palm on my thigh, he grins while a small intake of breath leaves me. “What do you want to drink?”
Ignoring the fact that my leg is currently on fire, I reply, “I think maybe a beer?”
“Maybe?” He c***s a brow, amused.
Jesus Christ, I need to stop babbling like a fool and order my damn drink already. “I was going to say a whiskey sour, but I thought I’d better start with something a little less…alcoholic.”
Cayden chuckles. “Whiskey sour, it is.” He peers overhead, watching the door for the rest of our party to arrive. But he does al
