Brand was at the animal shelter the following morning when she stopped by. Which led her to conclude that he’d changed his usual visiting time to coincide with hers. He was with Trevor, as usual. According to Siphiso, the dog had started taking treats from Brand. Not every time, but he would venture forward with every third offer or so. It was slow going, but it was definite progress, which meant that Trevor was now a viable contender for rehabilitation and no longer an immediate candidate for euthanasia.
Lia ran into Brand when she was visiting the rehab dogs. He was sitting inside Trevor’s pen, animatedly chatting with the dog. Lia’s heart leapt in fear at the sight of him sitting inside the cage.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” she asked without any preliminaries. Brand’s face lit up when he saw her.
“Hey, sunshine. I was just talking about you.”
She chose to ignore that, keeping her eyes glued on Trevor. The dog’s head and ears were down, and he was staring at her warily.
“Should you be in there? He has a history of aggression.”
“Somebody has to take the first step and trust him. He was just scared before. He’s a pretty mellow guy. Aren’t you, Tyson?”
“Do the handlers know that you’re in here?”
“Siphiso knows, he stayed for a while and observed. He left a couple of minutes ago. It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, sunshine.”
“I’d worry about anybody foolish enough to expose themselves to a potentially dangerous animal.”
“Danger is my middle name,” he joked. And she shook her head.
“I’m all too aware of that,” she said quietly. “But if he acts out toward you, it’s a strike against him, and the more strikes he has, the more likely he is to be put down.”
Brand paled and glanced at the dog.
“Don’t say stuff like that in front of him. You’ll scare him. I’m pretty fucking terrified myself—I didn’t know what the stakes were.”
“How could you not? What do you think happens to the animals who can’t find homes? Space and resources are limited, Brand.”
“That’s barbaric,” he growled. His obvious agitation was starting to upset the dog, and he got up carefully and stepped out of the pen. He took Lia’s elbow and led her farther down the corridor.
“If it makes you feel better, your interactions with Trevor have been a lifeline for the dog. I’ve just heard that they’re reevaluating his rehabilitation potential,” Lia said, gentling her tone.
“He’s a great dog,” Brand said, looking relieved. “I’m glad he’ll have the opportunity to prove that.”
Lia tilted her head and ran her eyes over his disheveled form. He was wearing a pair of baggy running shorts that ended just above his knees, along with a T-shirt that looked damp in spots. His hair was also darkened—from water or sweat, she wasn’t sure which.
“How did you get here?” she asked curiously.
“Well, since I find myself without transportation lately, I started running again,” he said with a grin, the grooves in his cheeks deepening wickedly.
“You jogged here,” she repeated flatly.
“Nah, jogging is for pussies, I run. But it kind of wiped me out. It felt farther than it probably was. Which probably means I’m the pussy now.”
“Possibly because you’re still recovering?”
“I can’t keep using that whole recovery thing as an excuse not to get back into shape.” He shrugged.
“You planning to run home?”
“When I get my wind back,” he said, resting his hands on his hips.
Lia sighed. “I’m leaving in ten minutes, after I’ve visited my golden oldies. If you want a ride, be ready at that time.”
“Cool, I’ll hang out with Figaro a bit longer, then.”
“Figaro? Seriously?”
“What? I know all kinds of cultural and classy shit. My mom dragged me to countless operas when she found herself between boyfriends, husbands, or toy boys.”
“Your mother has toy boys?”
“Yeah, her current plaything is twenty-seven. Dumb as a bag of rocks, poor guy. And she’ll probably be on to her next young gun by the time I see her again.”
“How does that make you feel?” Lia asked, despite herself. Then reminded herself that they weren’t flinging anymore, so maybe it was okay to ask him personal questions now?
“As long as she’s happy, I have no beef with it. She gave up on the whole marriage thing after her fifth husband and tried dating for a while, but that didn’t work out, either. So she has her man, or boy, as it were, of the moment. Which seems to be working out well for her. It’s not harming anyone. If I thought they were taking advantage of her, I’d step in, but most of these guys are really, really lacking in the intellect department. And wouldn’t know how to mastermind a scheme to deprive her of her money if their lives depended on it. Mom’s not really interested in their brains, if you know what I mean. They offer a laugh and some companionship.”
“And she’s happy?”
“Happy enough.” Lia frowned as she considered the information. The notion of having a series of sex-only relationships, like the one she’d had with Brand, was not at all appealing to her, and she couldn’t fathom living her life going from one meaningless sexual encounter to the next.
It gave her some insight into Sam Brand, though. He’d grown up with a mother who went from one relationship to the next. No wonder he thought permanent relationships were a waste of time. He’d never seen one that worked.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked suddenly, and Lia blinked.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like that. Like you’re trying to figure something out.”
“I’m not. I was just wondering what it was like growing up like that. Did you have a stable father figure in your life?”
“Aside from my actual father, you mean?” he asked mockingly, and Lia’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I didn’t know—”
“What, that I have a dad? Of course I do. Joseph Joshua Brand, JJ to his mates. Great guy. Gets along with everybody. Awesome dad . . . to his three kids from his second marriage. Me, I get to see him once a year . . . if that. I spent the occasional school holiday with him when I was a kid. Trying to fit in with his other family. God, my half brothers are stuck so far up their own arses, I’ll be shocked if they even know what the sun looks like.”
“Is he still with his second wife?”
“Oh yes, they’re full on into the happy family thing. Married for twenty-seven years and going strong. Rita, my stepmother, is quite nice. Hard to believe she bred such douchebags.”
“You preferred your mother’s lifestyle to your father’s stable home life?”
“Lifestyle?” He raised his brows at the word, and Lia flushed, recognizing how unintentionally judgmental her use of the word sounded.
“I mean . . .”
“My mother is a warm, loving woman. I never lacked for anything, especially not love. Which, I’m sure you will agree, is the key ingredient to any happy family.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Not everybody has the same overwhelming drive to marry and have kids that you do, Lia. Some of us are actually quite happy to never go anywhere near the outdated institution of marriage.”
“You don’t think your parents’ divorce or your mother’s serial partners have contributed toward this belief?” She winced at her own question—she could perhaps have phrased it a bit more tactfully. But Brand surprised her by laughing heartily.
“God no, I would never look to my mother as any kind of model example when it comes to relationships. She’s an unapologetic train wreck at romance. I have known many happily married couples; my dad and Rita, my grandparents—on both sides, all sadly passed on now—friends, even my douchey half brothers, who have somehow managed to find awesome women willing to marry them, all happily married for years. I’m quite familiar with what marital bliss looks like. I just don’t want that for myself. I’m not willing to give up my work or my freedom for any woman.”
“And you don’t want children?”
“I’m too fucking selfish. My entire life would have to revolve around them, wouldn’t it? Around their wants and needs. I can’t imagine that. I like doing my own thing too much.”
Lia was aware that she was staring at him again, but she couldn’t help it. Daff had once held the same life philosophy, but her sister’s adamant anti-marriage stance had definitely hidden some pretty deep-rooted insecurities. Sam Brand didn’t look like a man with insecurities. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted from life, and a wife and family were most definitely not in the cards.
“Um. Okay, so ten minutes?” she reminded. The interesting exchange had revealed so much more about Brand than she had learned over the course of the last week. She needed time to process.
“Yeah. See you then.” He nodded, his eyes already back on Trevor.
“Stay?” Sam knew he was pushing it asking her to stay, but she was tempted, he could see it in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought the better of it. Her eyes met his mutely for a long moment before she shook her head.
“You know I won’t.” He didn’t push her, merely nodded.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “After last night?”
“Completely over it,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Do you have another date lined up?”
“Not going to tell you that, Brand,” she said, and it frustrated the hell out of him that she could be meeting some potential creep show tonight and he had no clue where she would be or with whom.
“Come on, sunshine. I just want you to be safe.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“So you do have a date?” She laughed, genuine amusement in the sound. It ended on that adorable little snort.
“Stop asking, Brand.”
“Will you call me? If you need help?” Another snort laugh.
“You don’t have a car,” she pointed out. “I’ll call Mason. Or Spencer.”
He swore beneath his breath, feeling completely useless and incapable of defending her if she needed him.
“Call me anyway, okay? I’ll see you around, sunshine.”
“Take care, Brand.” After hearing her use his first name the other day, he was desperate for her to say it again. But disappointingly, she’d stuck with Brand since then. He wanted to ask her to call him Sam but wasn’t sure how that would go over with her. She was such a prickly thing, with her weird rules and hang-ups about everything.
He moved into the cabin, still bothered by her infuriating stubbornness, rotating the shoulder and wrist on his weak arm. He had an appointment with a physiotherapist early next week and would have to arrange for a car or a driving service to take him to Knysna. He was delaying the task because he hoped to convince Lia to drive him. But now he wondered if he should keep a car on standby every day in case she needed him.
He missed her. Not only her presence in his bed, but her companionship as well. And that despite her adamant insistence that they not have a decent conversation. He had fucked up badly with her, handled a delicate situation tactlessly. It had been misguided and pointless to lie about his relationship with Lally in the first place, and he sorely regretted it now. Especially since it had cost him his fling, or whatever the fuck it was, with Lia.
He had a long, hot shower, trying to work the kinks out of his aching body. He shouldn’t have pushed as hard as he did today. But he was impatient to get back to normal, back to his life and his work. This place and its overly friendly people were starting to mess with his brain. All his interactions with Lia, as an example, had been way more intense than anything he would normally have with a woman. For a brief insane moment, this afternoon, he’d actually considered adopting Trevor himself. Which would have been a mistake, since he didn’t have the time to dedicate to a dog.
Sam also found himself enjoying the McGregor/Carlisle clan way too much. He liked the instant welcome and acceptance he’d received from them. And on Monday and Wednesday he’d actually looked forward to hanging out with Bertie, Alison, and the rest of the seniors.
Sam didn’t recognize himself, and it was highly disturbing. This vacation had been way too long, and it was time to touch base with Colby.
“I would never consider marrying someone who isn’t prepared to have my mother move in with us,” Peter Baker explained earnestly, greedily shoveling a forkful of apple pie into his mouth before continuing to talk. He had a thick black beard, and pieces of pastry kept falling and getting trapped in the hair. In fact, he was quite . . . hirsute. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and a thick carpet of hair trailed up from the collar to meet the beard hairs in his neck. That, combined with the mop of overlong hair on his head, gave him a distinctly ursine appearance.
And while some women might find that appealing, Lia imagined what it would be like to kiss him with all that hair on his face. She kept picturing it getting into her mouth and stuck between her teeth. Ugh, what if she swallowed a stray hair? She shuddered and could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Which was probably a blessing, since he hadn’t stopped talking about his mother all evening.
“Do you like cooking?” he suddenly asked, and Lia blinked, tuning back into the conversation. It had been a while since he’d asked her something.
“What?”
“Cooking. Do you cook?”
“Yes. I enjoy it.”
“You should get my mother to give you her chocolate cake recipe. It’s the best. Maybe you can bake a cake for me sometime. But only after you get the recipe from my mother.”
Right. Where was Thandiwe, the waitress, with that check? Lia was about ready to leave.
“I make a pretty decent chocolate cake myself,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s nice,” he said, blatant dismissal in his voice. “But my mother has this special way of mixing the batter that makes it unbeatable. She won a baking competition with that cake.”
Lia made a show of looking at her watch.
“Oh wow, it’s getting pretty late. I should get home. I have work in the morning.”
“Really? I thought you were unemployed. Truthfully, I would prefer a woman who stayed home after we have kids. My mother will help raise them, of course.”
“I work at the preschool on Tuesdays and Fridays,” Lia said frostily, offended that this guy wanted her to stay at home with his future kids and his mother. It took her a moment to recognize that it was pretty much in line with the life she had once desperately wanted. Now—and not because she found Peter Baker and his unknown mother completely unlikable—she couldn’t imagine staying home permanently. She admired women who did and would happily take years off to spend with her children, but she would always want to go back to teaching.
“You do? Nina didn’t mention that.” Her friend Nina Clark had reluctantly set her up with Peter. Pretty much at Lia’s insistence. She had warned Lia that he probably wasn’t the guy she was looking for. But Nina had once, ages ago, mentioned her boyfriend’s single friend Peter, and Lia had called her this morning and asked her to set up a blind date with the man. Next time she’d listen to her friends when they told her a guy wasn’t for her. Nina would only give her a resounding “I told you so” when she heard about this disastrous evening.
“It’s not common knowledge yet. I plan to become a fully qualified preschool teacher, and the job will eventually become permanent.” Part of her really hoped he’d realize that the schools were closed and clue in to the fact that he was being brushed off.
“Will you give it up when you start popping out babies?” he asked crassly, and Lia fortified herself with a gulp of wine and shook her head.
“No. Anyway, it’s really late. I have to get home. Thank you so much for a lovely evening, but I don’t think we have much in common. So we probably won’t be seeing each other again.” She summoned Thandiwe over, and the young woman, who had been waiting for her signal, astutely guessing that Lia would want to make a break for it, hastened over with the bill.
“Thanks, Thandiwe,” she said gratefully. The woman was very familiar with the McGregor sisters—she’d been interning at their father’s practice for the last few years and would be leaving for college soon to study veterinary medicine. She only rarely worked shifts at MJ’s anymore, concentrating on her studies instead, but Lia was grateful that she was here tonight. She’d been hovering for most of the night, clearly not caring much for Peter Baker.
They split the bill.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Peter said, and Lia shook her head. Seriously? How could this guy be so thick-skinned? She’d just told him they wouldn’t be seeing each other again.
“No, that’s fine. You go ahead. Thandiwe works with my father, and I need to get something from her for him.”
“I can wait,” he said.
“Oh yes, I have Inkululeko’s dog vaccination charts for you,” Thandiwe said, catching on quickly. “I have to ask you to wait five minutes, though. I just need to take table ten’s order.”
“Yes, of course, no problem,” Lia said with a smile. “I need to use the restroom.”
He still didn’t budge.
“Thandiwe, do you have a, uh . . . sanitary towel for me, please? I didn’t bring any,” Lia asked in a not quite lowered voice. In fact, her voice had just enough volume to swivel a few heads at the tables closest to theirs. But these were desperate times. She fought back a blush and ignored Peter, who shifted uncomfortably at her question.
“Oh, no sanitary towels,” Thandiwe said regretfully. “Only tampons, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, great, that’s . . .”
“Anyway, good night,” Peter said, surging to his feet. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
He left without looking back, and Lia face-palmed while Thandiwe burst into laughter.
“Oh, good grief! I thought he was never going to leave,” Lia lamented, which only made Thandiwe laugh louder. “I didn’t want him to walk me to my car, I figured he’d try to kiss me.”
“He had food in his beard,” Thandiwe said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Wait five minutes before leaving. Did you park right outside?”
“Yes, within sight of the door.”
“I’ll walk you to the door and watch you leave,” Thandiwe suggested, and Lia grinned.
“Thanks, Thandiwe, you’ve been an absolute star.”
She was in bed when her phone rang. A look at the screen confirmed that it was Brand.
“Brand. It’s late. I’m trying to get some sleep.”
“It’s barely ten. I’m surprised you’re at home already. Spencer mentioned that you had a date tonight.”
“Why are you and Spencer discussing—” Lia bit off the rest of the sentence and sighed. “You know what? Never mind. If you thought I’d still be out on my date, why are you calling me?”
Silence.
“Brand? Why are you calling?”
“I was just checking if you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ve seen all kinds of shit, Lia. I know what kind of dangerous losers are out there.”
“He was hardly dangerous,” Lia scoffed.
“But he was a loser?” he guessed astutely, and Lia grimaced.
“He lives with his mother.”
“You live with your parents,” he pointed out, and she laughed. Acknowledging the hit. Her comment had been hypocritical.
“I have plans to move out. He wants his mother to move in with us after we get married.”
“Wait, why are you discussing marriage with some arsehole you just met?” Brand asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Maybe it was love at first sight?” she suggested lightly. More silence. This time it thundered.
“How old is he?” Brand asked, ending the loaded silence.
“Thirty-nine. He’s an electrical engineer. He expects his wife to stay home and take care of the kids. His mom will help out, of course. He likes her cooking, so his wife will have to learn her recipes. He’s allergic to all animal fur. Even bird dander. So absolutely no pets. He likes a woman who takes care of her figure and who keeps her hair and nails—”
“Stop, for God’s sake! Don’t tell me you’ll be seeing this fucker again!”
“Not likely,” she said, laughing. “He wants this perfect wife but can’t even be bothered to keep his beard neat or wear a clean shirt on a date. And I plan to teach—it’s not something I’m willing to give up again. Not for anyone.”
“Sunshine, you’re turning me on with all this delicious assertiveness. I may be developing a librarian dominatrix fantasy right as we speak.”
“Shut up,” Lia said, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”
“You could come over and sleep next to me.”
“For heaven’s sake, Brand!”
“So that’s a no?”
“You know it is. Good night.”
“’Night, sunshine. See you in the morning.”
Paul West chewed with his mouth open . . . but that wasn’t the deal breaker. Chewing with an open mouth she could handle; watching bits of food being masticated was tolerable. She really wasn’t that picky. After the first civil half hour, she had relaxed and sent Billie Greenspan, the friend who had organized this particular date with one of her boyfriend’s cricketing buddies, a thumbs-up emoji. But that had been before the first course had been ordered, when Paul West had smiled sweetly and been charming. Before he had started chewing with his mouth open and before he had started in on his very favorite subject of conversation.
“. . . but I told that bitch, I told her, if she takes the dog, I’d take her to court so fast her head would spin. No, seriously, she thinks she can cheat on me with that Neanderthal and then get the dog? She can fucking think again!” Yes, what Lia couldn’t quite handle was the conversation.
“You must really love the dog.” Lia managed to get a word in edgewise. He liked animals—that was something, wasn’t it? Plus, he was a good dresser: nice tie and jacket. Passably good-looking. But—
“I fucking hate that little psychotic mutt. He bites any chance he gets. No, he’s headed for the pound.”
“But then why do you want him?” Lia was appalled and he shrugged, shoveling another forkful of food into his open mouth. He then started talking with his mouth full . . . ugh.
“Because she wants him, and she wants him because I want him. In truth, neither of us really wants the little bastard.” The poor dog. Lia felt sorry for it, having two such selfish individuals for owners. “I have him at the moment. She had to get away for the weekend, she said. Told me if I was so desperate for the dog, I could keep him for a couple of days. But he’s done nothing but whine and bark since I got him.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the car.”
“What? You can’t leave a dog in the car for hours at a time.”
“Yeah, maybe not in summer, but come on, it’s not like he’s going to die out there in this cool weather.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Don’t tell me how to take care of my own dog, sister. Now, are we going to screw tonight or what?”
“Hey, Brand,” Lia answered her phone with a despondent sigh an hour later.
“Bad?”
“Unbelievably bad. I didn’t think they could get worse than the guy with the Oedipal thing going on, but this one . . . what a horrid individual. Hates his ex-wife but couldn’t stop talking about her at all.”
“Yeah?”
“And . . .” A whine interrupted what she’d been about to say, and she stared down into a pair of concerned eyes looking up at her from her lap.
“What’s that sound?”
“That’s Yappy the yorkie.”
“What?”
“He asked me to look after his dog.”
Well, his exact words had been “If you’re so fucking worried about the mongrel, you take him. I can’t wait to tell that bitch I gave the little asshole away.”
“Wait, what? Your date asked you to look after his dog?”
“Well, he kind of stormed out, then came back in, said ‘good riddance,’ and dumped the dog in my arms before storming back out. Leaving me to take care of both the bill and Yappy.”
“Jesus, Lia!”
“Tonight was a bit of a low point,” she confessed on a whisper, her voice hitching as a tear trickled down her cheek.
“Oh, sunshine, I’m so sorry,” he groaned. “Please don’t cry, okay? This motherfucker isn’t worth it.”
“It’s not that, it’s just . . . I don’t understand why I can’t meet someone nice. It shouldn’t be this hard. It was so easy before Clayton—I had so many romantic opportunities with lovely men. After three years away from the dating scene, it feels like the viable prospects in the pool of single men have mostly disappeared. Probably all happily married by now. And the only ones left are these horrible . . .” She stopped, shaking her head, and impatiently swiping at the tears with the heel of her free hand. She was annoyed with herself for allowing this to affect her so strongly. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”
He groaned again.
“Please come over,” he said, his voice raw.
“It’s not a good idea. Good night, Brand.”
“Lia . . .” She hung up on him before he could complete his sentence. Her phone buzzed seconds later, and she smiled when she looked at the screen and saw the kissy face emoji. She didn’t reply, but for some reason, the silly little emoji made her feel slightly better.
Yappy was an instant hit with Lia’s mother and became a welcome and immediately loved addition to the family’s always-growing menagerie. Millicent McGregor hadn’t had a special fur baby of her own in many years, but she and Yappy adopted each other at first sight. When Lia called Billie and told her what happened, her friend was both apologetic and livid at the same time.
Brand had sent her an early-morning text, asking if she was okay, and Lia had responded with just a thumbs-up emoji. After three embarrassing and disastrous dates in three nights, she was starting to miss her former arrangement with Brand. At least there was no uncertainty there. She knew what to expect from him and vice versa.
She sighed and got ready for dinner at Daisy and Mason’s. The couple would be leaving in two days’ time, and they were cramming as much family time in as they could.
Lia was looking forward to putting the last three nights out of her mind and spending an entertaining evening with her sisters and the Carlisles. For some reason, it didn’t occur to her that Brand would be there as well. But he was the one who opened the door for her, welcoming her with a huge smile.
“Hey, sunshine, you’re looking beautiful as always.” Lia looked down at her plain yellow dress and gray cardigan combination. She looked ordinary, but Brand definitely had a gleam in his eye while his gaze perused her from top to bottom.
“Uh, thanks. You look nice, too.” That much was true. He was wearing a pair of jeans that were slightly loose on his thinner frame and a T-shirt with sneakers.
“When I heard you were going to be here, I made an effort to look good,” he joked, and she smiled in response.
“What did you bring?” he asked nosily, taking the foil-covered bowl from her as he let her in. Daisy’s tiny house—soon to be Lia’s tiny rental—seemed overcrowded with everybody crammed in there. Their parents were in Knysna, enjoying a preplanned romantic date night, and weren’t there to add to the chaotic throng.
“It’s just a salad,” she replied, and he lifted a corner of the foil to peer into the bowl.
“Fucking fantastic! Tomato and cucumber roses.” Why did he sound so absolutely delighted by that fact?
“Some people actually appreciate my pointless pretty food,” she said with a smile, inviting him to join in on the self-deprecating joke.
“I was a prick, Lia,” he said, his voice alive with contrition. “I missed your little flowers the moment you stopped making them for me.”
“Really?” He was having her on again. What a ridiculous and unnecessary lie to tell.
“I know you don’t believe me, but yeah, really.” How odd—he seemed sincere and Lia found herself actually believing him. He made a show of looking her over and then grinned.
“Where’s your new little buddy?”
“The dog?”
“Oh! My mom fell in love with him, he’s hers now. He’s at home, she didn’t want to leave him so soon after getting him, but she and our dad have been planning this evening for weeks. So he’s in one of the spare rooms with some toys and treats.”
“It may not have been under ideal circumstances for you, but he’s lucky he found his way to your family.”
“Thank you,” she said self-consciously before shifting her eyes from his and smiling at Daisy, who came over to give her a casual hug and a glass of white wine.
“Yay, you’re here! Please, please, please get Daff out of my kitchen, I’m gone four months and she thinks she’s a chef? She’s burning something as we speak.” Sure enough, the acrid smell of burned meat wafted toward them, and Lia laughed. Daff wasn’t a great cook, but she couldn’t accept being less than amazing at anything and was now on a mission to prove to herself and everybody else that she could create passably good meals.
Tonight’s offering didn’t smell passable or good, it just smelled inedible, and Lia, being the peacekeeper in the family, immediately made her way over to her older sister to ease her away from the stove.
Spencer was chatting with Mason and grinned as he watched Lia join Daff in the kitchen. The man knew better than to intervene.
Charlie had latched onto Brand and was peppering him with questions about some pop star or another. Thankfully not Laura Prentiss this time. If Lia never heard that woman’s name again, it would be too soon. Brand was patiently answering the teen’s questions, even though Lia was pretty sure the girl had asked him the exact same things on Sunday.
“What’s cooking?” Lia asked, sipping her wine as she glanced down to see what Daff was slaving over. She tried not to cringe at the sight of the meat sticking to the bottom of the pot.
“Burned offerings,” Daff said on a sigh.
“Yeah, not even you can save this, Lia. And Deedee’s in a panic that I’m going to burn the house down.”
“She’s not,” Lia said kindly, and then amended, “Well, not really.”
Daff laughed and shook her head.
“Meh, I’d rather be drinking anyway,” Daff said, taking a slurp of her red wine to prove her point. She shifted the pot off the heat and turned off the gas. She hooked her arm through Lia’s and nodded toward Brand, who was still chatting with Charlie. “So I hear you’ve been out and about town with several different men. Does that mean the fling’s over?”
“Yes.” There was nothing more to add, really.
“That was pretty fast.” The sheer astonishment on Daff’s face made Lia uncomfortable.
“Says the woman who once had a three-night thing with Spencer.”
“Well, that was different, wasn’t it? There were feelings developing between us. The no-strings-sex thing didn’t suit the parameters of our changing relationship.”
“It doesn’t matter, Brand and I are done. It was fun, but it’s over now. I thought I’d start dating again and spend more time on my studies. I have to hand in a couple of assignments when the semester begins again.”
“And you’re okay?” Lia considered the question. Was she okay? Yes, she was. In fact, her fling with Brand had been less stressful and humiliating than her foray back into the dating pool. Okay, so getting sexually involved with a man on a casual basis was very far away from normal for her, but she found Sam Brand incredibly attractive. And more than that, she liked him. And maybe she should stop trying to overanalyze every aspect of that attraction and just enjoy it.
“I’m fine,” she said in response to Daff’s concerned question, while her eyes sought Brand out again. She considered his dishonesty about his relationship with Laura Prentiss and her visceral reaction to him lying about it. She had been angry, but that anger had been out of proportion to the nature of their relationship. She was the one who had put a moratorium on conversations of a personal nature, and, whatever his relationship with the pop star, it was personal. And when he’d tried to tell her it was none of her business, she’d taken offense. Taken offense when he’d chosen to implement one of her own rules.
Her mind switched to thoughts of his concern for her over the last few days, his phone calls and texts, his genuine supportiveness last night, and the interest he still had in her. And she concluded that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to grab this non-relationship with Brand with both hands and just run with it.
“Hey! Lia! You still with us?”
“What?” Lia shook her head and looked at Daff, who was snapping her fingers in front of Lia’s face. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”
“About?”
“I have plenty of free time for studying. And I can always go back to dating later.”
“What do you . . .” Daff began, then tracked Lia’s line of sight to Brand, who was laughing at something Charlie had said. “Crap. Seriously? Lia, don’t let him break your heart, okay?”
“Don’t worry, sissy. This thing between Brand and me has a very limited time line. I’m well aware of that. My heart’s under lock and key. But . . . I enjoy him. I don’t see why I can’t continue to enjoy him until he leaves.”
“Oh man,” she heard Daff breathe.
Lia smiled widely. Gosh, she felt light as a feather.
She was watching him again. Brand wasn’t sure what to make of that. Lia had been staring at him all evening. She’d been generous with her smiles, too. Those beautiful, genuine smiles that he so enjoyed. When they finally sat down around the small, crowded dinner table, he found himself sitting between Lia and Charlie. He felt like he was sitting way, way too close to Lia. Her arm brushed against his every time she moved, and when she spoke with him, which was often, she leaned in close enough for him to breathe in her tantalizing scent and trapped his eyes with her beguiling gray stare. It was driving him insane. He was uncomfortably erect and trying very hard to keep his reaction hidden from the rest of the group.
When she touched his arm with her fingertips and he nearly jumped out of his skin, his reaction drew every eye at the table and Sam mumbled an apology, feeling his cheeks heat in the process.
“I just wanted you to pass the salt,” Lia murmured into his ear, her voice husky with amusement. Her mouth was so close, he could feel her warm breath wash over his temple, and he swallowed down a groan.
She was fucking killing him.
She excused herself and sauntered off to the bathroom, and Sam bit back another groan as he watched the seductive sway of her hips. He felt a kick on his shins and identified the assailant as Daff. He glared at her and she glared back, raising her eyebrows meaningfully at the same time. He knew she was trying to warn him not to stare so blatantly at Lia.
His phone buzzed; he lifted it to glance down at the screen and nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the message.
I miss your €====3!!
He blinked. Then gaped at the message for a long moment.
“Bad news, bru?” Mason asked in concern, and Sam immediately switched off the screen and dropped the phone facedown on the table.
“Uh, no. Just unexpected.” His phone buzzed again, and he fumbled for it. He couldn’t resist a quick glance and felt his face redden.
What in God’s name was she trying to do to him?
“Brand? What the fuck is going on with you?”
“Mason, language,” Daisy reprimanded in a long-suffering voice, obviously knowing it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Sorry, angel,” Mason apologized, lifting Daisy’s hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
“I, uh . . . ,” Sam began to say, but his words stalled when Lia strolled back into the dining room, not betraying by a flicker of an eyelid what she’d been up to. Mason and Spencer, with that fucking old-fashioned courtesy of theirs, both stood up when Lia sat down. Sam lifted his butt an inch from his seat as a nod toward good manners before sitting down again. No way was he standing up in his current state.
“It’s something that I’ll be seeing to later,” he continued pointedly, answering Mason’s question and still not looking at Lia. She went back to her dinner like nothing was amiss.
“Anything I can help with?” Mason asked, and Sam choked on a sip of wine.
“No, thanks. I can definitely take care of it myself. Uh, Lia—” He dared a look at her and she met his eyes guilelessly, her eyebrows raised in question. “Mind passing the salt back, please? I missed the hell out of it.”
“What a weird thing to miss,” Charlie observed, and Lia coughed delicately, her face pinkening slightly as she caught his meaning.
“Not really,” he said, smiling at Charlie. “I adore salt. Can’t get enough of it. Could eat it for days.”
This time it was Lia who choked on nothing but her spit, and Sam hid a grin as Charlie wrinkled her nose.
“That’s really bad for your health,” she said, concerned. “You can get high blood pressure, high cholesterol. Think of your heart and your kidneys.”
“You’re a smart kid. Don’t worry, I understand that everything is better in moderation. No matter how tempted one is to overindulge.”
The rest of dinner continued uneventfully. Lia thankfully kept her hands to herself, barely acknowledging him, while Sam manfully fought to get his erection under control. Thankfully, he was decent again by the time the meal ended and surreptitiously watched as Lia sat chatting and joking with her sisters and Charlie—inevitably discussing Daff and Spencer’s pending nuptials—while the men cleaned up the kitchen.
She left a full half hour before the rest of the party disbanded, citing tiredness. Sam watched her leave, waited ten minutes, and finally took the opportunity to send her a message.
I want you. He knew the text lacked finesse, but he wasn’t a sweet talker by nature. He had at least refrained from using the word fuck in the text. Which, for him, was as romantic as it got.
I know. He didn’t have to wait long for that two-word response, and he glared at his phone screen, annoyed that she was being so fucking stingy with her words.
While he was glaring at the screen, another word popped up.
Soon.
The promise had him champing at the bit, and he waited impatiently while Spencer and Daff—his ride home—chatted their way through another drink. Charlie kept herself busy by taking selfies and random other pics for her Instagram account. Thankfully, she was respectful enough not to include Sam in her pictures. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was spending his convalescence.
Sam tried not to show his impatience and kept up his end of the conversation, but he was relieved when Spencer playfully prodded Daff in her side and suggested they get a move on.