Lucas
"Well, speak of the devil," Elijah laughs.
“I always knew that ginger was a horny bastard.” I smirk into my Vieux Carre before taking a sip.
The smoothness of good rye, the fruity florals of the cognac, and the herbal sweetness of the sweet vermouth all flood over my tongue as Mystery Guest #3 enters the ring.
Of course, he wasn’t much of a mystery to begin with, and he’s even less of one now.
I should have known that any skirt I chased, Oliver Robertson wouldn’t be following far behind.
The presence of Elijah Kennedy only increased the likelihood that our red-headed step-child of a best friend would be arriving shortly. Even all the way across the restaurant, I couldn’t miss those damned ginger waves if I tried.
“Ollie, old pal,” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve got to quit meeting like this.”
“I concur,” Oliver says, shaking his head right back before inclining it towards the door. “Why don’t you two take a hike, and I’ll wine and dine the lovely Sofie on my own.”
“Ha! And let you bore her to death with R&D mumbo jumbo?” Elijah howls, slapping his hand down on the table. “Not a chance, kid.”
“Even with my sadistic streak,” I admit, “Sofie’s too pretty to be put through that kind of pain.”
“I guess it’s a four-way, then.” Oliver shrugs our gentle ribbing off his broad shoulders and takes his seat.
“Five-way,” Elijah corrects him. “Date #4 isn’t going to know what hit him.”
I have to admit, for a total nerd, Oliver is a snappy dresser. Elijah dresses like he’s running for office—something he’s picked up from his senator father, no doubt.
I’ve taken a more casual approach to the evening in a sleek, tan Italian suit. White tailored shirt. No tie.
But you can’t fault Oliver for bringing a little class to the table. In his grey wool Glen Check, he looks like he’s ready to pose with a couple of faux-intellectual supermodels for GQ.
We all bring a different flavor to the table, but somehow, it works for us. As far as friend groups go, Eli, Ollie and I aren’t so different from my Vieux Carre in that sense. Three different tastes, but we all work together just fine.
Eli is right, thought. Date #4 has his work cut out for him.
“Fuck’s sake,” I swear, looking over my two best friends in disbelief. “This is some kind of sick joke, isn’t it?”
“We should have known,” Oliver agrees. “Historically speaking, the statistics that this would happen again are…”
“Off the charts,” I chuckle.
“Ordering a drink, Ollie?” Eli asks, leaning forward onto the white linen tablecloth. “Or should we just assume that you’ll have what we’re having?”
Ollie delivers a million dollar shit-eating grin and flags down the waitress for a gin martini. Like I said, he’s a fucking nerd, but you can’t fault his taste.
Especially since we all seem to have the same type.
At least, as far as women are concerned. This isn’t the first time we’ve all lusted for the same woman, and it certainly won’t be the last.
Lucky for us, we’re all generous bastards. It’s what brought us to the Fostering Angels auction to begin with.
If we play our cards right, and Sofie is game, that generosity might see us through the night just fine to boot.
It’s just as the waitress arrives with Oliver’s martini that I see her. And let me just set the record straight here: I see her first.
Beautiful, beautiful Sofie. The belle of the ball. Hair cascading over her shoulders, lips plump and sexy and begging to kissed—among other things—wearing a dress that leaves just enough to the imagination without making an unimaginative charts-and-numbers guy like me have to think too hard.
As the maître d' checks for her reservation, Sofie’s gorgeous eyes scan the restaurant for her dates. The nervous way she bites her bottom lip as she does it…fuck.
Women throw themselves at me often enough that they don’t usually have this effect on me anymore. But Sofie—sexy, sultry Sofie—she’s really, truly something else. I can hear my heart beat in my fucking ears just looking at her.
I haven’t felt this way about a woman since I was twelve years old, and Rick Morris’ new Playboy bunny step-mom threw him a pool party with all her busty Bunny friends.
Fucking honestly? I’m not sure I’ll ever feel this way about a woman again.
I’ve dated models. Actresses. Heiresses with enough of Mommy and Daddy’s money to afford as many nose jobs and ass implants as they can dream of.
But this girl? Fine, foxy Sofie? She’s hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
I need to have her. Fuck the other two—they can join in if they can keep up. Ollie and Eli had best be bringing their A-game tonight—
Because I’ve certainly brought mine.
I catch her eyes just as the maître d' moves to bring her over to our table. We all stand to greet the absolute fucking goddess before us as the maître d' drops her off, but when she’s done glancing at the other two, her eyes definitely return to me.
“I’m, uh…Sofie Carson. I guess I’m your date for evening?” she says, sticking her hand out with a nervous little laugh.
It’s the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard, and all I want to do in that moment is make her laugh like that again.
But it breaks my heart, too. When she laughs, she looks away from us. Like she’s embarrassed, or just too unsure of herself right that moment to feel confident in having fun.
Well. We’ll fix that right fucking quick then, won’t we?
“Elijah Kennedy,” Eli begins, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. He gives her that politician handshake that makes me question once again what the fuck he’s doing in business. With his brain, his pedigree and those good looks, he could be president of the free world. “And these are my colleagues—”
“Oliver Robertson,” Ollie jumps in, taking up Sofie’s hand when Eli releases it. “I think I should stipulate, though—we’re not colleagues tonight. Just friends.”
When Sofie’s hand is free again, it’s my time to shine. But when I take her slender fingers into my palm, I don’t shake it like I’m some kind of dog who’s been taught the oldest trick in the book.
No. I raise those pretty fingers to my lips, and I kiss them. Twice, for luck.
“Lucas Price,” I say, raising my eyes to hers slowly. She’s got beautiful fucking eyes. Brown, dark enough that you could get lost in them, and sparkling with laughter and light. “You’re even more beautiful up close.”
That makes her giggle again, and even though she covers up that perfect smile of hers when she does it, it was worth the cheesy line. She’s classy, our Sofie. A little innocent-looking, but fearless, too. Especially in that dress.
One glance at the other guys, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing. We didn’t pay for sex, and we certainly don’t expect it. But for a girl like Sofie…
It wouldn’t be a bad way to end the night.
“Has, um…” Sofie begins. I pull her chair out for her, and she lowers herself into it gracefully, glancing up at me with a tiny smile of thanks.
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask as the other guys and I take our seats.
Her laugh. Her damn laugh! It’s so fucking cute I wish I could bottle the fucking sound.
Record it, put it on my phone, listen to it on a 24-hour loop. Fucking hell.
“Sorry,” she says with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever fucking seen. “I’m a little overwhelmed right now, I think. It’s just, like…”
“You weren’t expecting three guys who look like us,” Eli supplies smoothly.
Sofie blushes. Fuck. Even her blush is fucking beautiful.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” she admits. “But aren’t there supposed to be four of you?”
Oliver nods. “Looks like he’s late.”
“I guess you’ll have to settle,” I say with a shrug. “Three men will have to be enough for you tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, darn,” Sofie shoots back with a joking pout. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to find some way to make do.”
“We could make do from my house out in the Hamptons after dessert, if you’d prefer,” Eli offers casually.
“Or my luxury penthouse,” Ollie one-ups him. “After all—it’s closer, and not so tacky.”
“You’re going to have us fighting over you like dogs by the end of the night if you don’t put a stop to this now, you know,” I say.
Sofie laughs again. Whatever nervousness she came in with has dissipated now. In fact, it looks like she’s blossoming with all this attention we’re paying to her.
“I’d rather have you all eating out of my hand,” she says sinfully, leaning forward and scrunching up her nose in the cutest fucking smirk.
“Woof,” Eli says with a wink.
“And right on time,” Oliver adds as the waitress arrives with the oysters.
“We hope you don’t mind,” I speak for all of us. “But it looks like Eli has taken the liberty of ordering.”
“This is the part where I say something about aphrodisiacs.” Eli plucks an oyster off the platter and offers it to Sofie temptingly.
“But of course, a girl like you…” Oliver begins.
“…wouldn’t know anything about that,” I finish for him.
Sofie’s gaze passes across all three of us, taking us in, as she licks her lips.
“Oh, no,” she says with delighted faux-innocence as she takes the oyster from Eli’s fingertips. “I wouldn’t know anything about that all. But…”
She tips the oyster back between her lips and makes a beautiful face of pure ecstasy.
I wouldn’t mind seeing that face again in a more private setting, truth be told. I’m sure the other guys would agree.
“Maybe you can teach me?” she says, swallowing with a saucy little grin.
Fuck. This is going to be fun.