Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,35
to remember the last time I saw him without a drink.
In the few years that I’ve known Drake, he’s never been much of a drinker. He would be the guy who when out with his friends would nurse one or two beers the entire time. Not until that first night a couple of months ago at See Food—the day of his mother’s funeral—had I seen him with a glass of straight liquor.
My frown deepens when he raises his glass to me.
Sidling over to where he stands, I nudge him with my shoulder. The damn mountain of a man doesn’t even budge. “Starting the party early?”
He gives me an amused glance. “It’s a party, isn’t it?”
I shrug. “Is it? We’re just getting ready to go to dinner.” I scan our group. Everyone is getting ready to walk out the door.
“Guess I better finish this, then.” Drake downs his whiskey and places his hand on the small of my back. As soon as he touches me, heat radiates through the fabric of my dress and straight through my skin. Heat flushes my face, and my eyes hood as I look up at him.
Leaning down, his lips brush the shell of my ear, and my knees wobble slightly. “You look amazing, tonight, sweetheart. Really beautiful.”
He’s decked out in all black. Black sweater that hugs the bulge of his biceps and gives just the barest hint of the chiseled beauty of his chest and abs. Charcoal gray slacks. Drake never wears slacks, but it’s nice to know that when the occasion calls for it, he can fit the bill. The pants fit him just right, and I already can’t wait to watch him walk out the door so I can ogle his perfect ass. He’s missing his usual black combat boots, instead rocking really nice black suede brogues.
“You clean up nice, Sullivan,” I mutter as I follow our group out the door. His chuckle, rumbling behind me, chases the shivers up and down my spine.
The restaurant Dare and Berkeley have chosen is actually a renovated historic mansion. The Olde Pink House is straight up not my usual scene, but I can always appreciate good food. The charm of the place has mesmerized me. Completely pink on the outside, the inside is gorgeously redone in the style of the old South. Tons of molding, dripping chandeliers, and old hardwood floors make this a building I want to explore for hours. As I’m studying the menu, my eyes widen, because I definitely have not budgeted for this type of place. I really have no business even sitting here. I’m not sure what to do. Order an appetizer only? Just one drink and a salad? At these prices, one drink and one entrée would mean I can’t pay my utility bill this month. I continue scanning the menu, trying to be as nonchalant as possible while I’m having a minor panic attack inside.
Jeremy Teague, who I’ve learned is kind of a jokester, whistles. “Whew! You trying to break the bank on dinner the first night, huh, Conners?” He glances at Dare and winks, letting his buddy know that he’s kidding. Jeremy shakes his head, his short blond ponytail bobbing against the collar of his starched white shirt.
No kidding. Fire forms a blush in my cheeks, but I’m once again grateful that my skin tone most likely hides it. That and the flickering candlelight in the center of our table. Berkeley gushes that she can’t wait to sink her carnivorous teeth into a steak, her fiancée agreeing wholeheartedly. Greta, a foodie and a whiz in the kitchen herself, is comparing each item on the menu in great detail while Grisham listens closely, happy to follow her lead. After all, she’s the one who introduced the boy to grits.
Drake leans over, his movement subtle and smooth. “So what do you think looks good, sweetheart?” His voice, meant just for me, makes a flurry of wings beat frantically in my chest. I react to him like a schoolgirl, and it’s a fact that would usually annoy the hell out of me. But at this moment in my life, with Drake, it seems right.
His large hand lands on my thigh, and it feels like it could wrap fully around my flesh if he only squeezes. I swallow hard as I peek over at him. “Um, I love a good salad with some kind of protein in it. Chicken or shrimp, maybe. But—”
At that moment, the waitress arrives to get our drink