Phoebe's POV
Heat crept up my neck under Harold's knowing stare. "Um, I was just talking off the cuff."
Harold looked away, fighting back a grin. "No worries. Most people wouldn't dare say that to my face."
I went quiet.
Harriet had been beating herself up since we'd walked out of that police station, but seeing me—usually so put-together—suddenly tongue-tied made her crack up.
Once Harriet started laughing, everyone else at the table joined in. Even Alistair cracked a smile.
I really was gutsy. But when I got flustered, I looked surprisingly cute.
The mood around our table instantly lightened. Right then, the food started showing up.
Everyone grabbed their drinks and dove in.
I reached for a beer too. But right before my fingers touched the bottle, someone's hand cut me off.
I turned to find Harold looking dead serious. "Minors don't drink."
"I'm legal now. My license says I'm of age," I shot back.
