Page 61 of Midnight Curfew

“I’m going to the Wolfe Room Friday night.”

“And they know that,” I fire back, “which is why they’ll be trying to move then.”

Beer Cart Girl hands Vincent his Dos Equis just before Milo takes her by the waist and presses into her, forcing her to back up. “You know what I like.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes away, but he hauls her back in. She bares her teeth, hitting him in the chest.

“Plus, I’m playing in the Wolfe Room Friday night,” I add. “I want my pick.”

Milo’s attention falters, and he releases her, turning to me. “I can’t be there?”

I eye him sternly. “It’s my turn.”

I don’t want the distraction, and I don’t want competition.

At least, that’s the message I’m sending.

He lifts his brows, walking away. “Got it.”

Really, I just want Dallas to myself, without my friends’ interference. Or observation.

“Hey, give us a beer, honey,” someone calls out.

Jerome Watson strolls up, his cart parked next to ours. A man with dark hair, a little taller than him, follows.

Jerome holds out his hand to me. “How’s it going?”

We shake. “Thought you were busy today,” I say.

We had invited him, but he has a real job, unlike us.

Plus, it’s fucking hot.

He nods, gazing toward the green. “I was,” he tells me. “Just brought my friend in for lunch.”

Jerome moves aside, pointing to each of us. “This is Vincent Law,” he tells the guy, who goes around and shakes hands. “Milo Price, and…” They turn to me, the man closing the distance a couple of steps and locking eyes with me. “This is Callum Ames,” Jerome says.

We shake, his hazel eyes unblinking, his hand holding mine until I feel a dip in my stomach.

“This is Micah Hearst,” Jerome tells us. “A buddy from college.”

He looks like he wants to smile, but it’s only in his eyes. “Hi.”

I swallow. “Hi.”

Finally, we let go, and I take a deep breath. That’s the friend Jerome wanted to introduce me to. Fuck, not now.

“Micah owns Sotherly House and the Lord Hotel,” Jerome announces.

“Nice.” Vincent bobs his head. “A big fan of the State Suite.”

Milo chuckles. “And the discreet entrance for playmates.”

Micah shakes his head, but the smile is there. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he teases.

I take a drink as I let my eyes fall down his body. Long, toned legs in off-white pants, like me, and muscular arms in an ocean-blue shirt. Dark hair, tanned skin, everything manicured. His haircut, his nails, the alterations of his clothes.

Women look at him before they look at me, only he doesn’t like women, Jerome had said.