Virgin Daiquiri - Elise Faber Page 0,14

me having time to eat whatever deliciousness was percolating out of the box Iris had brought in nor finding the opportunity to kiss her luscious mouth, to taste her smirk on my tongue.

I nodded toward the end of the bar where Brooke was sitting, waiting until I saw her moving before I pulled out the stool I’d stashed behind the bar earlier, having purposely ignored Kace’s confused look.

I stuck it next to Brook’s stool.

“Brooke, meet Iris,” I said to my former best friend’s little sis when Iris came close. I knew she would be nice to Iris and knew they could both use more friends in their lives, especially ones who would look out for each other rather than be catty-backstabbers.

“Iris,” I said, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. “This is Brooke. She puts up with my grumpy ass . . .” I paused, smirked over at Kace, who’d come up. “friend, Kace.”

Kace narrowed his eyes.

“Kace, this is Iris. Iris, Kace. My grumpy, burly, tattooed boss.”

Kace rolled his eyes but extended a hand to Iris, who shifted her box to the side so she could shake it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I got it,” I said.

Her gaze met mine.

“House merlot, right?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

I turned away, reaching for a glass, even though I was seriously encroaching on Kace’s station, but she stopped me with a hand on my wrist.

“Pizza,” she murmured, lifting the box, “that comes with perfectly risen dough.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” I said, flipping my palm over to capture her fingers in mine, squeezed lightly. “I’ll have to save it to eat during my dinner break, but it smells incredible.” I snagged the box. “Let me put this somewhere safe, grab your wine, get ahead on orders, then I’ll come back and chat.”

“Go,” she ordered then smiled. “Also, while it’s better hot, it’s almost as good cold.” Shifting, she parked herself on the stool I’d brought out, then pulled out a book from her purse. “And don’t worry about me. I’ve come prepared to entertain myself.”

I nodded, started to turn away.

Then turned back, mouth dropping open.

Then looked at Brooke, caught her gaze, and let my eyes drop back to the cover. She frowned, but then let her own gaze drift down to the book, eyes crinkling with mischief as a smile spread over her face. “What do you think of it?” she asked Iris.

I opened my mouth, but Iris cut me off before I had the chance to intervene. “Oh my God, it’s amazing! Have you read Brooke McAlister before? She’s on my instant buy list. I love her books so much!”

I didn’t think Brooke had thought through the actual conversation before she’d started down this path.

One, because my Brooke—well, Kace’s Brooke—was Brooke McAlister.

And two, because my-slash-Kace’s Brooke was also terrible at taking compliments.

I grinned. “Funny story,” I said, certain there was now mischief in my eyes, “is that this Brooke”—I indicated Brooke, whose cheeks were now flaring bright red—“is—”

“Brent,” Brooke warned.

I ignored her. “That Brooke.” I tapped the book’s cover.

Iris’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“Yes, way.” Brooke smiled shyly. “Thanks for reading them.”

“Omg, reading is the least of what I do to them—” Iris broke off, shook her head. “Sorry, that sounded really freaking weird. But my point was that, yes, I read them. Also, yes, I devour them. I preorder the eBooks so they can hit my Kindle at nine p.m. the night before release day, then stay up all night reading, then I order the paperback to be delivered on release day so that I can reread the story on actual book pages.” She sighed, held the novel to her chest. “You write the best male characters. I swear Jace was my favorite.”

Kace chose that moment to pop his head in, muttering. “Don’t want to cock-block, bro, but I really need a hand.”

I nodded. “Sorry. I’ll—”

“Wait,” Iris said, and I stopped, not realizing that she wasn’t looking at me in the least. Her gaze was flicking between Kace and Brooke, and a wide grin had broken out on her face. “You’re Jace?” Her lips parted on a slow exhale. “Whoa. That’s—”

“Fiction,” I growled, shoving between them and now seriously regretting having put my woman on Kace’s end of the bar.

What had I been thinking?

Kace was . . . a fucking model. Every woman drooled after him, wanted to get in his pants. Iris would be—

“Did you really steal Brooke’s credit card?”

Kace’s brows pulled down.

“That means yes,” Brooke whispered, lips curved