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silverware on china. We were cocooned, tables empty on either side, giving our dinner a much more intimate feel than I was comfortable with. I planned on having words with Nikki as soon as we left. As it was, I wasn’t able to speak with her because her tongue was busy investigating Braden’s tonsils.
    I could feel Easton looking at me. I leaned forward to grab a piece of bread, though my main purpose was to let my dark hair fall into my face a little and give me somewhere to hide. It worked, my locks slipping over my shoulder and along my cheek.
    “So, Kyrie, what do you do?” Easton wasn’t going to let me get away so easily, it seemed.
    “I work at a magazine as an editor.” I glanced up at him.
    “Oh, what magazine?” His easy smile was a lure.
    “ Teen Sparkle .”
    His smile widened, a perfect dimple appearing in his cheek. “Sounds like fun.”
    I blushed. “Not exactly. It was at first. Now I’m looking to move up to something with a bit more cachet, you know? I guess I’ve outgrown it.”
    He nodded. “I do. I guess it’s sort of like being in the minors and dreaming of the majors? So what’s the majors for you?”
    I took a sip of wine. “ Style and Substance .”
    “Never heard of it, but I’ll sign up for a subscription.”
    “I didn’t realize you were into fashion.” I laughed and took a bigger sip of wine, more of a gulp, really.
    “I don’t know anything about fashion, honestly. My sister helps me pick out clothes and has zero problems telling me if I look like a douche.” His smile was back, easygoing and charming.
    “Your sister?”
    “Yeah, Kasey. She’d love you. She’s always had a thing for…” He glanced down to my chest and then, seemingly remembering himself, looked away.
    What the fuck?
    His tan cheeks colored the slightest bit. And then I noticed something else. “You have something on your face,” I whispered. Not that it mattered. Our dinner companions weren’t going to notice. They needed to get a room at that point.
    “What? Where?”
    “Right here.” I reached up and ran my fingers along his cheek, his skin soft and smooth. “There’s like a line or something.”
    “Oh, shit. Kasey.” He shook his head. “She hit me.”
    “Your sister hit you?” I dropped my hand from his cheek, but he caught it in his palm. His fingers were calloused, but warm.
    “It’s sort of a long story. We’re roommates with a very special brand of…” He searched the ceiling for the word he wanted before bringing his gaze back down to mine. “Retribution, I guess you’d say?”
    I let him hold my hand, though I shouldn’t have. He ran his thumb over my knuckles. Heat swarmed through my body, funneling down until it built up between my thighs. I was leaning closer to him, our voices lowering as we spoke. He put his other hand on my shoulder, his fingertips pressing me steadily toward him.
    “What did you do that required retribution?” I made words with my mouth, but I couldn’t focus on anything but his eyes, his scent, the feel of his hands against my skin.
    “I left a dirty dish in the sink. So she hit me with a whiffle ball bat.” He licked his lips. “Though I think this one across the face was actually for laying out that runner yesterday.”
    The memory of his pure aggression had fueled my fantasies the previous night. I’d come moaning his name. My cheeks flushed and I took another drink, hoping the silky wine would do something to temper the heat inside me. “The fight made her mad?”
    “Yeah. She knows it’s bad for business. She calls it my ‘brand’. But don’t get me wrong, she loves watching guys beat each other. She knows it’s just all part of the show.”
    His words ricocheted through my mind. Someone else had used that turn of phrase. Someone who was the reason I didn’t date players. I leaned back, away from danger, away from the certain pain that getting involved with a man like Easton would bring.
    He tilted his head to the side.