Page 74 of Trouble

Either way, my cheeks flame, and I shift away from Cade a bit, spreading my knees wide so he can’t move any closer.

With a quirk of a brow at me, he orders his standard vodka tonic. Mel asks for a wine list, while I pull on the front of my shirt, suddenly feeling as though I can’t get enough air.

“You hot?” Cade murmurs, leaning in so close that his body heat only adds to the problem, his lips at my ear, his warm breath ghosting over my cheek.

Holding my breath, I peer over at the waitress. She’s watching me, pen still poised over her pad.

Behind her, a group of older men who hang out on the corner of Hope Street, drinking their coffees most mornings, are also staring.

As a bead of sweat trickles down my spine, I elbow Cade, forcing him to give me space, and order a beer on tap.

Melina takes her time picking out a wine, and while we wait, Cade’s gaze burns a hole in the side of my head.

The second the server is gone, he pounces. “Something wrong?”

Stomach sinking, I keep my expression neutral. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Melina watches on, seemingly having missed the interaction now causing this tension.

“You worried about what people will think of how close we’re sitting?”

I grind my teeth, a knot of dread sinking in my stomach. “Of course not.”

Cade’s chuckle lacks any kind of humor. “Worried they’ll think you’re dating the gay boy?”

“Oh my god,” Melina mutters, grabbing my thigh. “Tell him you don’t give a fuck what other people think.”

I sigh. She’s right—I don’t. But I am the local fire chief, and sitting this close to another person, regardless of gender, draws attention. That attention makes me itchy. And sitting between the two of them? The scrutiny is multiplied by ten. Doesn’t he feel any sort of way about that? People will judge her. Us.

“It’s fine.” Cade shoves out of the booth and points to the bar. “I’ll hang with Hailey. Let me know when you’re ready to go home.”

He doesn’t even give me a second to speak. To correct his ridiculous assertion that I give two fucks about his sexual orientation. When have I ever given him any inclination that I do? I’ve watched him flirt with both men and women for years. Witnessed him walk out of many bars with them. Heard the play-by-plays after the fact.

I never batted an eye.

He should know me well enough to know I’m not a bigot who would view him through a lens colored by his sexual orientation. He’s so much more than that. We all are.

I grind my teeth, shoulders tensing in annoyance.

“You have to go talk to him,” Melina says quietly, squeezing my thigh.

Tucking my chin to my chest, I blow out a breath. “I will.”

I’m not about to let his overreaction or my stupid inability to speak up quickly enough ruin what is obviously a good thing.

And I sure as fuck won’t let it screw up our friendship.

We’re both stubborn assholes most of the time, but for Cade, I’ll make an exception. As I’m sliding to the end of the booth, his loud laugh echoes through the entire space.

Hailey is leaning over the lacquered bar top, and Cade is angling in closer, with his mouth to her ear.

My stomach drops to the floor.

Is he fuckingflirtingwith her?

Right in front of Melina?

What. The. Fuck?