“Nothing goes better with mashed potatoes than . . . well, than everything,” I say as I mix. “They go with literally everything.”

  “Mashed potatoes are a perfect dish,” TJ seconds. “As long as there’s butter in them.”

  “And I will drink to that, hun,” I say.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Owen’s spine straighten.

  He whips his gaze to me. Behind those glasses, his eyes flick from me to TJ and back.

  I want to tell him I’m not flirting with his friend.

  I’m just . . . in bartender mode.

  Just like he’s in PR guy mode.

  And, usually, those settings work just fine for us.

  Right now, though, I’m not keen on either one, but I do my best to mix and chat, making small talk with everyone. The whole time, I’m sneaking glances at Owen as he meticulously slices carrots.

  I’ve never noticed how he slices vegetables before.

  Why would you, dipshit? You don’t ordinarily watch people slice carrots.

  But it’s not the way he’s cutting the veggies that’s transfixing me. It’s his hands. Those hands felt so good all over my body last night. They felt incredible in my hair, down my arms, on my waist.

  Great.

  Now I’m getting turned on in the kitchen while I should focus on my Friendsgiving job. Listening, asking questions, mixing drinks. Being an excellent guest.

  But dear Lord, it was heaven when Owen roped his fingers through mine in the hot tub. How he held me.

  My stomach flips from the memory.

  I want to walk over to him right now, set his knife down, take his hand and tell everyone he’s mine, just mine, all mine.

  But I won’t put him on the spot in front of his friends. In front of his colleagues.

  I can’t assume he wants what I want, and I definitely can’t just smash my way into his love life like a bull in a china shop.

  You don’t tell someone you’re crazy about him in the middle of a public event. I won’t do it.

  Instead, I knock back the rest of my old-fashioned.

  “So, how did you two meet?” I ask Jillian and Jones, and the pair of lovebirds launches into the tale.

  I am interested as they tell me the story.

  At least, I’m doing my very best to be, and I hope my face doesn’t reveal where my thoughts truly are.

  Maybe it’s my fault, but “how did you meet” becomes the question at dinner a few hours later.

  TJ points at the hostess and her wife. “You two have to go first,” he says, then to the group in a stage whisper, “Since they have the cutest story.”

  “Novel-worthy?” Reese asks TJ.

  “Meaning, will I steal it as a premise for the next great romance? You know, I just might,” he says, takes a bite of his salad, chews, then shoots a wide-eyed look at the moms-to-be. “’Fess up.”

  Nisha smiles shyly.

  Hailey grins, sets a hand on her wife’s shoulder. “We were in the library. We both wanted to check out the same book. It was a Calvin and Hobbes.”

  “And instead, we checked out each other,” Nisha puts in.

  The entire table awws.

  “Okay, that’s meet-cute worthy, especially since Calvin and Hobbes are cool. What else have we got?” TJ asks, gesturing to Brooks and Steven. “The Brit and the American. I’d like to hear this story.”

  Setting down his martini, the Brit laughs and shakes his head. “We’re just a typical boy-meets-boy-online story,” Steven says.

  “Nothing wrong with that. It’s how lots of couples meet these days,” TJ says.

  “I swear, half the couples at my bar met on an app. Many of whom are happily married,” I put in as I spear a forkful of salad and chew. Contributing to this conversation is better than stewing about when I’ll get a moment alone with Owen.

  Steven waggles a platinum band. “We’ll be getting married in the spring. I’m so glad I used Boyfriend Material.”

  Owen chokes, covers his mouth with his hand, and nearly spits out his water.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Nisha asks, momming him.

  “Fine. Just fine,” he says, sputtering, his cheeks flashing pink.

  I burn. That stupid fucking app. Owen better have taken down his profile last night right after the first time I made him come. If not then, definitely after that second orgasm when he called my name at the top of his lungs.

  But I’m sure he didn’t delete it. After all, he didn’t look at his phone once after we kissed. I kept him plenty busy, thank you very much.

  Maybe he killed his profile in the magic dog van.

  If he didn’t, I will hack his phone and destroy that profile, because there is no way anyone else will get his hands on Guy With Glasses.

  And what the fuck is wrong with me?

  I am not a jealous guy.

  I am not a possessive alpha.

  I am not this person at all.

  But I can’t stand the thought of Owen seeing anyone else, touching anyone else, falling for anyone else.

  “Drink some water, sweetie,” Nisha says to Owen, handing him his glass.

  “I swear I’m okay,” he mutters.

  “Wait. Is that how you two met? Did you and River meet on that app?” Once Tobey’s question makes landfall, the table goes quiet.

  The guests are waiting for an answer.

  Owen looks up at Tobey, his eyes wide, his lips parted. But no words come out.

  The silence is so awkward, you couldn’t cut it with a knife. There is no utensil the right shape for this kind of awkward. My instinct is to jump in and smooth things over with a quip, but I don’t want to. I kind of want to know what Owen will say now that the dumb app is up for discussion.

  But he’s silent. Except, he seems to be breathing a little harder than normal.

  “Tobey, they’re not together. They’re just friends,” Nisha corrects him gently.

  TJ chuckles under his breath, then takes another bite of mashed potatoes.

  What’s the deal with that chuckle? I file it away to ask Owen later.

  Tobey winces, holds up his hands in surrender, a stuffing-covered fork in one, a knife in the other. “Gah. My bad. So sorry. I was just getting a vibe in the van. But I was wrong about the murder podcasts, so I must not be good at reading people. Good thing I can speak dog, huh?”

  “I’d like to speak dog,” Holden offers, then digs back into the salad.

  Owen clears his throat. “We’ve been friends forever. River and me,” he says, slapping on a grin. But he just seems . . . off.

  Well, same here.

  Also, fuck friendship.

  And I think I just growled.

  God, I hope this meal ends soon.

  Steven clears his throat, flashing a smile, ever the diplomat it seems. “But it’s a great dating app. If anyone is looking for a girlfriend or boyfriend, it’s fantastic.” He directs his gaze to me, then Owen. “And really, if either of you two blokes is looking for a boyfriend, I highly recommend it.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I say, while plotting to take down an entire dating app Ocean’s Eleven-style, mirroring how the bombing expert shut down the Vegas power grid.

  “And really, I bet you’d both clean up on it,” Brooks adds.

  “Are either of you? Looking for a boyfriend?” Nisha asks, turning her gaze to Owen, then to me.

  I wait for Owen to go first.

  21

  Owen

  Ten pairs of eyes bore into me.

  Jillian, Jones, Steven, Brooks, Tobey, Nisha, Hailey, TJ, Reese, and Holden are focused on my face.

  The only one who’s not staring at me is River.

  He’s studying his plate, but he looks like he’s about to rip the table in half. It’s an unfamiliar look. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him quite like this.

  On the surface, the question—am I looking for a boyfriend—is dead easy.

  But underneath, I’m a ball of nerves. Have been since I arrived. Wait, make that since this morning.

  So I pick the easiest way out of the question. Wriggling away from it. “Sure,” I say, noncommittally, then pick up my fork again, but since I don’t want to choke on the tofurky, I set it down and opt for another drink.

  “What are you looking for in a boyfriend, Owen?” Jillian asks. This is typical of her. She’s never met a question she’s unafraid to voice.

  But I kinda wish she wasn’t asking this one.

  It’s not even because one of my players happens to be here.

  It’s because everyone is here, and we’re at the table, and I just want meals to be nice, and pleasant, without any scenes, and then you clean up and do dishes and move the hell on.

  Right place, right time, and all that.

  Surely, I’ll find the perfect moment so damn soon.

  “You know. Just someone nice,” I say breezily, like I can just make the question evaporate.

  “Oh my God, you’re so ready to get serious,” Brooks says with glee in his voice. He grabs Steven’s arm. “This makes me so happy.”

  Steven laughs, knitting his brow. “You’re happy because he wants to get serious?”

  “Of course I am. I like love. I like love stories. He’s going to meet someone on Boyfriend Material like that,” Brooks says, snapping his fingers.

  TJ shoots me a crooked grin. “He’s not wrong. You’ve kind of always been a dude magnet, O.”

  I dip my face, pick up the fork, consider what the hell to stuff into my mouth so I don’t have to talk.

  I don’t want to talk to any of them.

  They’re great. Truly, they’re great. But I don’t want to talk about this stuff with anyone but one person.

  “That’s true. Owen has never had to buy a drink anywhere,” Nisha says, then turns to me again. “Are you? Ready to get serious?” she asks, rubbing her belly, like that’s the next step for me.

  Hailey laughs, shakes her head. “Nish, I doubt he’s thinking about having kids.”

  Nisha rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly. “Gah, sorry. I kinda can’t stop touching my belly.”

  “It’s a great belly,” I say, and that came out so dumb. I can’t believe anyone lets me speak for them professionally when my words tonight are of the um and doh variety.

  “What I mean is . . . I just think it would be great to see you with someone who makes you happy,” Nisha adds, “I would love to see that. Bet I’m not the only one of your friends who wants that.” With a playful grin, she gestures to the rest of the table.

  TJ lifts his old-fashioned, a smirk on his face. “I’d love to see that, O.”

  “I definitely would,” Holden puts in with a grin.

  Soon, the whole table is chiming in with their plans for my romantic future.

  “I can see him with someone funny. A guy with a wicked sense of humor,” Hailey says, and I want to say yes, and I found him.

  “Someone who likes animals,” Nisha adds, and she couldn’t be more spot on.

  “That’s always a plus. Hey, free vet care when you’re in Tahoe,” Tobey says, and I want to loosen all this tension in me and say Tobey, you were not wrong, you were not wrong at all, and your vibe detector is perfectly calibrated.

  “Someone you can travel with. We love to travel,” Steven suggests, and the coil winds tighter because that’s true as well. That’s so damn true.

  “And someone you can just hang out with wherever you are,” Brooks puts in.

  Stop reading my mind.

  Jillian lifts her glass. “It’s always a bonus if a man is good in the kitchen.”

  There’s a pause before River weighs in. “Or the bar,” he adds, but there’s a note of hurt in his voice, and a tick in his jaw, and something like sadness in his gorgeous brown eyes.

  He is finally looking at me.

  And I’m looking at him across the table.

  Seeing everything I’ve ever wanted. Seeing the only man I want.

  My throat tightens. My chest squeezes. A jack-in-the-box winds tighter inside me.

  I clench my jaw, try to take a deep breath.

  Try to let all these inconvenient, untimely, far too big feelings go.

  Try to remind myself that later, I’ll find the perfect moment to tell River. Maybe outside. Or on the deck. Or I’ll sneak into his room.

  Or.

  Or.

  Or.

  Fuck the perfect moment.

  I can’t take this a second longer.

  I rip off the Band-Aid all at once, stripping my whole heart bare at the dinner table. “I’m not getting on Boyfriend Material. Because I already met someone,” I say to everyone. “And he’s all of those things. He’s everything.” My gaze lands on River as I say the last words. “He also happens to be my best friend, and I’m in love with him.”

  River freezes.

  I can’t read a thing from his features except shock.

  Complete and absolute shock.

  In fact, everyone is wearing the same goddamn expression.

  And holy hell, that felt freeing. Like an elephant floated off my shoulders holding just the string of a balloon.

  I push back my chair, catch my breath, then point to the door, putting my PR voice back on. I’m cool and calm as I scratch the back of my neck like that was no big deal. “I think I’m just going to get some air. But hey. Those were some great mashed potatoes.”

  And just like that, I leave.

  22

  River

  Tobey thrusts his arms in the air. “Called it! I was right. Like a Navy Seal. Like a badass vet.”

  Nisha slaps a hand over her cousin’s mouth. “This is not about being right.”

  TJ just smiles, watching the front door snap closed, like he’s proud of his friend.

  Everyone else appears fascinated with their food.

  I don’t move because I’ve never felt like this before. Warmth floods my body, fills all my cells. It’s like I’ve drunk a happiness potion and I’m glowing.

  I’m just so damn joyful I’m not even sure I know how to speak, to move, to live.

  Except, even though I feel great, Owen probably feels terrible.

  He has no clue I’m floating on Cloud Nine.

  No idea he said everything I’m feeling.

  And just like that, I unfreeze.

  I lift a finger, consider saying something clever, but all that comes out is, “Excuse me.”

  I head to the front door, yank it open, walk down the steps that have been swept free of last night’s snow, and into the frigid night.

  Holy igloo.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I rub my palms on my biceps, my gaze swinging left and right, hunting for the man who just professed his love for me.

  Only he’s nowhere to be seen.

  What the what?

  I rush down the stone path to the sidewalk. It’s been shoveled, and some of the snow has melted, but there are still a few inches, and Owen clearly has polar bear blood.

  I sweep my gaze to the left, and the street is empty. The night is quiet. Stars wink on and off above in the dark blanket of the sky. I turn right to the corner and there he is.

  Walking back to the house.

  My heart goes haywire, thumping madly in my chest. And the cold melts away as buzzy, warm tingles slide down my spine.

  “Owen Hayes, do not walk away from me after that,” I call out, going full bossy mode. “Get over here now.”

  Owen closes the distance, stopping a foot in front of me. His eyes are wild. He’s breathing hard, but I doubt it’s from the short walk. “I wasn’t walking away. I needed air. I needed to breathe. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I ruined dinner or this trip or our friendship. I’m sorry if I fucked up the pact,” he says, giving me no space to speak because he’s back on the same roll he started at the table. “But I’m not at all sorry about how I feel. And I’m tired of being scared of telling you. I’m tired of keeping this to myself, River. I just love you, and I’m in love with you, and I want you to let me love you, and last night was absolutely incredible,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion, his eyes brimming with vulnerability. “And I don’t want to lose you as a friend, and I know we made a pact, but I don’t think I can survive another second of feeling this way for you without telling you.” He stops, takes a breath, then shrugs helplessly, holds out his hands. “I’m so in love with you. And I want you to be my friend, and my lover, and my boyfriend. You’re the one man I want to be good to, and I really hope you’ll let me.”

  I’m not speechless very often.

  Talking is kind of my thing.

  It’s my jam. My pleasure. My defense. It guides me through nearly any situation.

  Right now, though, I don’t even know where to start, or how to respond to the magnificence of his words. His big, beautiful, honest, amazing words that crack my heart even more open for him.

  But I also can’t stay silent after that kind of profession. So I choose words and actions. I close the distance between us, grabbing his face, holding him tight and whispering, “Do you know what happened to me yesterday?”

  “Tell me.” His voice is as desperate as my heart is for him.

  “I fell in love with you last night. Is that crazy?”

  “No. It’s awesome,” he says, with ten tons of relief in his voice, and another ten of joy.

  “I don’t even know what to make of all these wild emotions that are just slamming into me left and right, but I know that I want to stay in love with you. And I don’t want to lose you, Owen. You are the best person I have ever known,” I say, and my heart is shouting his name, begging to get closer. “So clearly the only thing for me to do is be the greatest boyfriend anyone has ever been . . . so that I can keep you.”

  Owen’s smile reaches into my soul. “Keep me. Please, keep me,” he says, and all I want is to cozy up with this man who lets himself be so beautifully vulnerable with me. It’s such a privilege to get to love a man like him. And I plan to treat this love like the great gift it is. I slide a palm through his lush hair, and bring him in for a kiss.

  Our lips touch in the cold as the chill wraps around us, but I’m warm inside. Warm from the center of my being as I kiss Owen, and he kisses me back, and this doesn’t at all feel like any of our other kisses.