Cherisse came over to the bar to fill her plate as well. “Hey, lemme ask you something. When you came to my apartment for the meeting, did you have tuna on you, by chance?”

“Uh, what?”

“Jello was all over you, so, just wondered.”

Keiran didn’t hold back his snort. “Really? You’re really annoyed that your cat liked me so much, huh? Why would I be rollin’ with random tuna in the first place? I didn’t even know you had a cat.”

Cherisse went down the line, placing toppings onto her waffles. “I don’t know what you’re into.”

“Oh, my God.” This was too much and so much fodder for teasing. She was legit not pleased about her cat being all over him. “I told you, animals just love me.”

“Right, like the damn cat whisperer or something. Whatever.” She picked up her plate, lips spreading into a wicked smile. “Older ladies whisperer too, as I recall. I gotta go see Laney about a thing.”

“Wait, what’re you—?”

She waved over her shoulder, and Keiran was suddenly on alert. That smile didn’t bode well for him at all. Truce or not, Cherisse was up to something.

It wasn’t long before his “Older ladies love me” comment was biting him in the ass, and he was eating his words, along with some chocolate syrup-drenched waffles, which made it a little easier to swallow. Although, he hadn’t expected an audience for that.

He looked around for Cherisse, but he’d been abandoned, left at the mercy of the three women who’d undressed him with their eyes earlier. They’d ushered him to their table that was now littered with glasses of mimosa, half-eaten foods, and fruit from the centerpieces. He’d been trying to excuse himself for the last twenty minutes. His charm had backfired—had, in fact, worked too well, it seemed, judging from the lazy hand that suddenly found itself on his arm.

“A healthy appetite and toned arms. Everything a woman could ask for.” The woman currently petting the bare skin where his short sleeve ended wore a wide-brimmed hat with little bunnies and Peeps on the brim. Blonde hair brushed her pale, freckled shoulders as she leaned forward. “That syrup looks so good. Chocolate’s my fave.”

Oh, Jesus. Just what Keiran needed, a white woman with a taste for chocolate. He scanned the other tables, the food stations, and the rest of the back yard. Where the hell was Cherisse? Or their host, for that matter?

“Becky, leave the boy alone,” the woman on his right admonished. She shook her head, bunny ears headband bouncing in her fro as she peered at Becky from behind her cat-eye glasses. “Quit trying to be all jungle fever up in here. I told you that shit’s not cute.”

“What?” Blue eyes wide, Becky removed her hand from Keiran’s arm. “I was only talking about the syrup, Celeste. That’s all.”

“Sure, Becky.” Celeste sipped her sangria, eyes brimming with censure. “If you think you’ve got anything he’s interested in. Girl, please. You see he came here with Nyla’s daughter, Cherisse? He may like ‘em a little light-skinned, but not your brand of pale, sweetie.”