Chapter 34

The dinner invitation had been a surprise. I thought she might slow things down again after last night, but instead, I found myself getting ready for dinner with her friends. As I chose my clothes, I couldn't help but smile, remembering the smell of her skin, the way her body had felt pressed against mine. The way she had cried out my name.

I stopped myself, taking a deep breath. This was not the time to get lost in memories. I didn't want to show up at her front door with a stiff cock. I would end up embarrassing myself in the big house.

The woman had made me an addict. I craved her body. Every little gasp and moan were so authentic. And the way she tasted was something I was not going to forget anytime soon.

When I prepared to leave, I looked around for my house guest. "Cole?"

He didn't answer, although he had mentioned going out with a friend or cousin or something. The job applications were still sitting on the kitchen table. That wasn't promising. He was going to have a hard time making any money if he didn't actually turn the applications in.

But he was a grown man. I wasn't going to follow him around and nag him. I wasn't his dad. I was trying to be patient. The guy had been locked up longer than I was and I knew how hard I struggled to get back into the groove of life on the outside. I was glad he had gone out. That was a good sign.

On the way to Mary Ellen's, I spotted a flower shop and pulled over. I couldn't show up empty-handed. Were flowers the right way to go? A bottle of wine? I had no idea.

The florist's bell chimed softly as I stepped inside the store. The scent of flowers washed over me, and the wave of sweetness was just a little too much. I scanned the colorful displays, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the options.

What does one bring to a dinner party at a girl's house with her roommates, ex-roommates, and their fiancés?

I was a little out of sync with societal rules, but I knew someone that could help me. I pulled out my phone and called Murray, hoping he could offer some advice on good manners.

"Isn't this a pleasant surprise?" he answered.

"Don't tell me you're at the office," I said.

"Where the hell else would I be? Down at the bar with friends, meeting a nice girl, falling in love?" He snorted. "Well not according to Mom and Dad. They want grandkids but they also want me to run the business. They seriously overestimate my ability to multitask."

"Sorry," I said, feeling a little guilty.

"It's fine. What's up?"

"What does one take to a dinner with a woman and her roommates and friends and their boyfriends?"

He chuckled. "She forgave your sorry ass?"

I couldn't help but grin at his blunt assessment. "I know. I can't believe it either. That's why I can't fuck this up."

Murray laughed again, clearly pleased by the news. "Good for you. Alright, here's what you do. Bring flowers for Mary Ellen and wine for the group. Can't go wrong with that."

"You're a genius," I said.

"Are you just realizing that?" He chuckled.

I thanked him profusely for his sage advice. Thank goodness Murray had impeccable etiquette.

The florist approached me, probably after seeing the pure confusion on my face. "Can I help you find something? Are you looking for happy flowers or sad flowers?"

"Happy flowers," I said, grinning. "I need something unique and pretty for a beautiful woman."

"Unique and pretty, huh?" she mused, her eyes sweeping over the colorful array of flowers surrounding us. "How pretty is she? What's your budget?"

"No budget."

She whistled through her teeth and her eyes flashed with excitement. "Now we're talking. Let's find something that'll knock her socks off—and perhaps other articles of clothing as well."

I laughed. "I think I picked the right flower shop."

"Darn right." She led me toward a corner of the store filled with exotic flowers. "These are African Violets. The color is bold and intense, very unique and pretty. Nothing basic like roses. Don't get me wrong. Roses are a classic. But if you want to show her you're different, this is the way to go."

I nodded. "Purple is good. Big. Bold. Okay, start with the African Violets and build around it."

After a few minutes of her expert touch, I left the shop with the most gorgeous combination of purple African Violets interwoven with sprigs of baby's breath and contrasting white lilies in an elegant glass vase. There were other little flowers and things I didn't know the names of. It was a work of art.

My next stop was a liquor store. I wasn't a wine connoisseur by any means, but I knew enough to choose an acceptable bottle. A full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon caught my eye. It was a safe option. It was popular and paired well with most dishes.

Armed with my peace offerings, I headed to the big house and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

Mary Ellen opened it. When she saw the flowers, her eyes flew open and her hand covered her mouth shyly.

"These are for you," I said and held out the arrangement.

Her eyes remained glued to the bouquet, enchanted as she took them. "They're beautiful," she said, sniffing delicately at the purple blooms.

"I told the florist how beautiful you are, and I said to make something just as amazing." I shrugged. "She got close, but even the prettiest flowers can't compare to you."

For a moment, we just stood there looking into each other's eyes. I knew what I wanted to do with her, but I also knew her friends were inside. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"I also brought some wine," I finally said, holding up the bottle.

Her face broke into a genuine smile and she stepped aside. "Come on in. The others are in the living room."

I followed her down the hallway and looked around the house. It was feminine and homey.

We went to the kitchen where the two other women from the park were arguing about something. "This is Karen and that's Rylee," Mary Ellen introduced. "Guys, this is Archer. He brought flowers."

Karen nodded. "They're lovely."

"Yeah, pretty nice," Rylee said, smiling. "But that wine looks even nicer." She took the bottle and looked at the label. "Damn, this is the good stuff. Well played, Archer."

"I'll introduce you to everyone else," Mary Ellen said.

"Wait, he needs a drink." Rylee grabbed a cocktail from the counter and handed it to me. "Hard stuff first," she declared with a grin. "We'll crack this fancy bottle of wine with dinner."

"Thank you." I took a sip of the cocktail, pleasantly surprised by its bold flavor. "This is good. What is it?"

"It's my secret recipe," she said with a wink.

"It's really good," I said and took another sip.

"Whoa, slow down," another woman said as she came into the kitchen. "I'm Jenny."

"Archer," I said.

"Just a word of advice," she said and pointed at my drink. "Baby sips. It's safer that way. Rylee does not play when it comes to her mixology."

"Thanks for the warning," I said. "It goes down easily. I can see it sneaking up on me."

Mary Ellen put on a pink apron with a few stains. The jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places were hot. I had only ever seen her in dresses or slacks. Her ass looked absolutely delicious. If we were alone, I would have given it a good squeeze and a healthy swat.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. This was the kind of a woman I wanted in my kitchen. She was wife material.

As I admired her, two men entered from the living room. One of them was Jameson. He nodded at me in acknowledgment. I returned the gesture with a nod of my own. I didn't dislike the guy, but I was definitely wary. I had seen him in attack mode.

"You must be Archer," the other man said. "I'm Ward." He put his arm around Jenny's shoulder and gave her a loving kiss on the cheek. "You've met my fiancée."

It was clear from the way he looked at Jenny, he was utterly smitten with her.

"Yes, she saved me from chugging this drink and making a terrible first impression." I nodded. "Good to meet you, Ward." My gaze briefly shifted between the two before heading back toward Mary Ellen.

"So, what's the plan for dinner?" Jameson asked, his voice husky with curiosity.

Mary Ellen looked up, her fingers slightly stained from handling various herbs. "I'm making roast beef with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables."

As she spoke, the rich aroma of cooking beef began to waft through the air.

"That sounds delicious," I said.

Another woman came into the kitchen with an empty cocktail glass. "Hey!" She smiled when she saw me. "I'm Lauren. You're Archer. I've heard so much about you."

I smiled. "I hope you'll give me a chance to prove the things you've heard about me weren't all true. Most of them."

"Jameson told me about your encounter at the library," she said with a laugh. "I hope you know he was just looking out for my friend."

"I won't hold it against him," I said with a small laugh. "It's good to know Mary Ellen has good folks looking out for her. I'm the same way with people I care about."

Lauren gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and turned to Rylee. "I'll have another of your lethal concoctions, please."

"She's going to be singing karaoke on the table before dinner at this rate," Jameson said, grinning. He looked at me and eyed my own glass. "Did Rylee make you sign a waiver before you took that?"

"Is there anti-freeze in this thing?" I asked with a small laugh. They were kind of worrying me. I wondered how many glasses of the secret recipe I could handle before it hit me like a freight train.

"I told you, it's a secret recipe," Rylee said, chuckling like a mad scientist.

"Everyone go sit down," Mary Ellen ordered. "There are too many people in the kitchen."

"Alright, alright," Karen said.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

Rylee gave me a funny look. "She already likes you. You don't have to kiss up."

"Rylee!" Mary Ellen scolded. "Stop drinking and be nice."

"I am being nice," she retorted.

Mary Ellen rolled her eyes at her friend and turned to me with a smile. "You can set the table if you'd like. The plates and silverware are in that cabinet over there."

I nodded, always glad to be of service. Jameson eyed me from across the room. He wasn't exactly hostile, but there was an edge to his gaze that suggested he wasn't my biggest fan either. I ignored him and focused on setting the table.

"Archer!" Lauren called from her spot by Rylee. She lifted her freshly refilled glass in a toast. "To new friends and old, and to a killer dinner!"

"Alright, let's get you out of here before Mary Ellen gets mad," Jameson said and led her away.

Everyone followed them out of the kitchen. Mary Ellen gave a small laugh from behind me. "You can't say we didn't warn you about Rylee's cocktails," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Things get a little wild."

"We should have her bartend at my parents' next party," I said. "Then you and I can sit back and watch the fireworks."

Mary Ellen giggled. "Oh, can you imagine? Maybe your mom would finally loosen up."

I snorted. "It might take actual medication to get her to relax."

It wasn't long before we were all sitting around the table. Mary Ellen looked at me and smiled, sliding her hand under the table and patting my thigh. I replied to her unspoken words of comfort by squeezing her knee.

Her friends were nice. I liked them. I could probably even be friends with Jameson—eventually. Mary Ellen was an amazing cook. She had prepared a feast fit for a king.

We all piled our plates high with delicious food. The bottle of wine I brought over was opened. It was gone very quickly, followed by a second and then a third bottle before the end of dinner.

"That was an amazing meal," I said. "Thank you, ladies. It's been a long time since I had something that good."

Lauren began to clear the table, with Jameson quick to join her.

"I'll help," I said and carried some dishes to the sink.

"Go relax," Jameson said, nodding toward the living room. "We've got this."

It was a playful dismissal. He wanted to be alone with his woman. I didn't blame him. We all had a good buzz and there had been a lot of flirting at the table among the couples.

In the living room, we settled in for a round of silly games. Heads Up was one that got everyone shouting. Rylee had mixed up more cocktails and the buzz we had developed into a good, healthy drunk. As the hours passed and the alcohol continued to flow, it became increasingly clear that nobody was fit to drive home.

"I think this is officially a sleepover party." Mary Ellen giggled. "It's a good thing we have extra rooms."

I couldn't remember the last time I had participated in a sleepover—prison didn't count—but for some reason, with this group, it didn't feel weird at all. They were cool with me, and no one brought up my history.

And they clearly cared about Mary Ellen, which was good, because I was starting to care about her too.