<span style="font-weight: bold">Samantha Belweather</span><br/><br/>“Yes. Good,” I gave Jules a reassuring nod. “I’ll have that - and~” I drawled, “a glass of the house white, please.” The waitress smiled and scurried, and, under the table, I ran my foot up Jules’s leg. “Trying to get me tipsy?” I asked, half-amused and half-pleased.