Twice, she tried to pull back, cognizant of Gavin watching and not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but Oliver merely tightened his grip. When he did finally release her, the cocky man had the audacity to give her a wink.
Although, she had to give him credit. She wasn’t nearly as tired as she’d been mere seconds ago. He always knew how to help her find her second wind.
“Where’s my kiss?” Gavin asked.
Erin gasped softly, uncertain what exactly had happened today between Oliver and Gavin, but clearly she’d missed a step or twenty while she was at work.
“I’ve never seen the two of you kiss,” she whispered.
But holy shit, did she want to.
Gavin shook his head, stepping closer—not to Oliver but to her. “I’m not kissing Oliver tonight. We’re thanking you, taking care of you, remember? Tonight is all about you.”
“But,” she started stupidly, “you don’t—”
Gavin wiped away any chance she had at finishing that thought. He placed his large calloused hands on her cheeks and drew her to him.
His kiss, like Oliver’s, left nothing to the imagination. She was motionless for a full twenty seconds before her brain engaged and told her body to get in the game. Lifting her arms to his shoulders, she parted her lips for him, tasting the wine they’d just shared, on his tongue.
The kiss was surprisingly gentle, despite the intensity of it. Gavin held back nothing, his fingers stroking her cheeks, as if she was made of delicate glass.
She started briefly when Oliver moved behind her, his hands resting on her waist, his chest pressing against her back.
Gavin broke off the kiss, his gaze locked with hers.
Erin held her breath, waiting, hoping, praying. She got a sense Oliver was doing the same, and that he’d positioned himself so that, like her, he would be able to see Gavin’s reaction to the kiss. They’d become good enough friends over the past year that she knew she was the first woman he’d ever kissed.
But why had he kissed her? What could that mean?
“Put me out of my misery,” she whispered when the silence lasted a second or two too long.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” Gavin said.
Erin drank in the words even as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening.
“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to catch up.
“What’s going on is we’re about to embark on my wild dreams,” Oliver murmured, placing soft kisses against the side of her neck.
Erin watched Gavin’s face as Oliver explained. He appeared hopeful, yet…reticent?
“Gavin?”
His eyes softened as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “I’ve never been with a woman, Erin.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“But I want you.”
Only Gavin could make a statement like that sound equal parts amazed and anxious. Regardless, she smiled, and even laughed a little. She couldn’t help it. It was as if she was feeling happiness for the first time in her life. “Me? Really?” she asked, excitedly, struggling to believe this was all true.
Gavin shook his head, his huge grin matching hers. “God. You and Ollie and these goofy fucking grins. Yes, really.”
From behind her, Oliver chuckled. “Come on. Let’s eat dinner. Something tells me we’re going to need the extra calories tonight.”
Erin reluctantly stepped out from between the two of them and led the way to the kitchen. “Wow,” she said, as Gavin pulled a pot roast from the oven. “That smells incredible.”
“It’s Aunt Riley’s recipe. Called today to get it from her,” Oliver said, picking up a knife and slicing the meat. It was so tender, it basically fell apart, and Erin’s mouth started to water.
“We were slammed today so I missed lunch. Only managed to choke down a granola bar,” she said.
Gavin wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing a quick kiss on top of her head. “You work too hard.”
She melted inside, loving this new closeness with Gavin. He’d become one of her best friends over the course of the past year despite the rocky start. She’d had to fight hard to push away her attraction to him, comforting herself with the knowledge it wasn’t her he didn’t want but women in general.
“I could say the same thing to you two.” Oliver and Gavin had always pulled long hours, never clocking out after an eight-hour day, but those hours had grown even longer since the fire at the pub. She suspected if it was up to them, they’d both work round the clock, desperate to put the pub back together.
Her cousins were making the trip from Philadelphia to Baltimore on Monday to confer with the Collinses about the renovations. If anyone could restore Pat’s Pub to its former glory, making it not only look the same but even better, it was the Moretti brothers. She’d spent years watching Tony, Joey, Luca, and Gio work their magic, and she’d said so to Oliver countless times since the fire. She wasn’t sure it helped much, though. Too many times over the past week, she’d catch a glimpse of his face—unguarded—and the sorrow she saw there cut her like a knife.
Oliver dipped out three plates while Gavin refilled her wineglass, plus two more. They all carried their wine and plates to the table. Conversation between the three of them was never an issue, though typically she was the one doing the majority of the talking.
Tonight, that role fell to Oliver, who kept them entertained, retelling silly stories from past holidays with his cousins. She forced herself to listen but found her thoughts constantly drifting as she considered the night to come.
Erin glanced down after several minutes, shocked to discover her plate empty. She couldn’t recall what the meal had even tasted like, too distracted. She wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or nervousness—probably both—that had her palms sweating, her heart racing a bit too fast.
Oliver’s long sigh captured her attention. “We should have skipped dinner. It’s obvious the two of you didn’t enjoy my efforts.”
“Sorry,” Erin said sheepishly, aware she should probably feel guiltier than she did. In truth, she was glad the meal was over, excited to move on to the next part.
“Me too,” Gavin called over his shoulder. He must have felt the same because he was halfway to the kitchen with his empty plate before she’d even risen.
Oliver chuckled, then reached for her hand, pulling her up. “You’re happy, right?” he murmured.
“So happy,” she whispered.
He leaned close and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Me too,” he said, repeating what Gavin just said.
They followed Gavin to the kitchen, each of them just putting their dishes in the sink.
“We’ll clean up later,” Oliver said.
The three of them walked down the hall, no one speaking. It should have felt strange, awkward even, but Erin had never felt more certain, more comfortable. While Oliver had told her of his desire for a relationship like the one his parents had, he’d convinced her that dream had changed once he met her. And he’d never—not once—made her feel like she wasn’t enough. They’d had more than a few heart to hearts about his childhood and how it had felt to be surrounded by the love of not two but three parents.