Barclay

I throw back my bourbon and set the glass down on the bar. I’ve allowed myself one strong drink before dinner to calm my nerves. Hell, I don’t think I’ve felt this worked up about meeting a girl’s family since … well, ever.

Miles has every right to “put me through the ringer,” as Tessa calls it. I would feel the same way if I were in his shoes. But I’m not. I’m the one who has to prove himself worthy of Tessa, and I wonder if it’s even possible.

I take a seat at the table I’ve chosen for us. It’s to the side and back, leaving us more secluded from the hustle and bustle. There’s a guy about my height with blond hair who just sat down at the bar and immediately strikes up a conversation with Michael, the bartender.

He fits Tessa’s description of Miles and scribbles something on a small spiral pad. The kind you can fit into a pants pocket. It reminds me of a scene from Law and Order, and I know it’s him—the man I have to impress.

I wipe my hands over my black wool pants as Jeffrey, our best server, comes up to the table.

“Good evening, Mr. Hammond. How are you this evening?”

I refrain from telling him my nerves are on edge and everything I hold dear is on the line if I fuck this dinner up.

“Hanging in there.” I offer him a small smile.

“Would you like anything before the rest of your party joins you?”

“Bring me the bottle of Dom Perignon, two-thousand. But only open it once I give you the go-ahead. Thank you, Jeffrey.”

When I look toward the front of the restaurant, Tessa walks in with a pretty brunette by her side. I assume it’s Maggie, since the girl looks to be about Tessa’s age. They make a beeline toward the blond guy at the bar, confirming he is Miles.

When the three of them start their way to my table, Miles and I lock gazes. A flash of recognition and surprise appears in his eyes. He knows who I am and turns to Tessa with a tightened jaw. The smile he was wearing has transformed into something close to a sneer. He says something to Tessa, and worry spreads over her face.

I stand up to greet them, but Miles’ demeanor tells me this might not be the friendliest hello. My sweet girl looks about ready to cry and I fight taking her into my arms. Instead, I decide to try to save the dinner.

“Hello.” I reach my hand out to Miles like it’s a peace pipe. “Barclay Hammond.”

“Miles Holly,” he says, shaking my hand with a grip so tight it hurts. Point made, good sir.

“Miles, behave,” Tessa whispers under her breath. “Barclay, this is Maggie, my bestie.”

Maggie’s jaw is somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, and I have to smile. “Hi … um, wow!” she mutters.

“Great to finally meet you, Maggie.” I reach to shake her hand, but she’s frozen in place.

“You’re … uh, so much better looking in person. I mean, you’re super hot in all the internet photos. But wow. ” She fumbles with her words, and Tessa laughs. Even Miles’ frown has slipped into a straight line.

“Maggie, don’t you have to run out and get something from the store?” Tessa looks like she has a nervous tick in her eye.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, hitting her forehead. “I forgot. Hope to see you soon, Barclay. You wouldn’t happen to have any hidden brothers or friends I could meet?”

“Bye, Maggie,” Tessa says in a motherly tone, gently placing a hand on Maggie’s back to move her along.

“Man, Tessa, you’re one lucky bitch,” Maggie whispers loud enough for me to hear.

“Imagine driving with her for two days.” Miles rolls his eyes, and a side of his mouth tips up.

“She seems lively.” I chuckle, and he nods. It’s our first breakthrough, and I’ll take anything at this point.

After Maggie leaves, Tessa sits in the chair next to me, and her brother takes one on the other side of the table, directly across from me. I’m not sure how we’re going to stuff our long legs under the table, but it’s clear he wants to access me, face to face.

I decided to be less formal tonight and dumped the monkey suit and tie, choosing to wear a fitted black V-neck T-shirt and dark jeans. Miles has on identical clothes. Aside from our opposite hair colors, we resemble six-foot-three bookends.

“I’m sorry for the tension, but I ambushed Miles,” Tessa confesses, and Miles crosses his arms over his chest. “He didn’t know you’d be here, eating with us.”

“I hate surprises,” he huffs.

Jeffrey’s waiting a few feet from the table with the bottle of champagne. Figuring this is as good a time as any, I nod my head at him. He opens the bottle and has me try the first taste, then pours three glasses of bubbly.

I lift my glass. Tessa and Miles follow. “Cheers.” We tap our glasses and sip on the liquid. Miles raises his brow in a sign of approval.

“Not bad,” he says.

I want to tell him the bottle costs over five hundred dollars, so not bad isn’t what I was aiming for, but I keep my cool and smile along.

“I hope you don’t mind, but the chef is preparing something special for us,” I tell them. “Filet mignon, corn crème brûlée, and asparagus.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tessa says. “Right, Miles?”

“Actually, it does.” He rubs his toned stomach. “I’ve been eating fast food for two days on the road up here.”

“I’m going to leave you boys alone to talk for a few minutes,” Tessa says, getting up from the table, and I want to pull her back down into her seat. Her abandoning me wasn’t in our plans. “I’ll go chat with Michael at the bar.” She grabs her flute and is off.

Miles stares at me, and I stare right back. Finally, he laughs, and I wonder what he’s found so funny.

“You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” Miles says, and I wait to hear if that’s good or bad. “I’ve been walking around this hotel all afternoon, looking for one person to rat you out as a rich playboy. Funny thing is, they all seem to genuinely like you.”

“That’s good to hear.” I exhale and lower my shoulders.

“They tell me the turnover rate is low. The pay rivals high-end hotels, and the benefits are unbeatable in the service industry.”

“It’s true. Just like you, I’m trying to follow in my father’s footsteps, both here and at Hammond Press. Keep his legacy alive.”

“Well, there you go and make me like you, too,” Miles genuinely smiles at me for the first time. He eyes me for a minute, but I know he has something else to say. “I want to tell you a story, okay?”

“I’m game,” I answer, having no clue what to expect.

“When I was seven years old, my mother brought Tessa home from the hospital. I’d never seen anything so small in my life. I was a big kid for my age, I bet you can understand.” I nod, knowing how it was to always be the tallest in my class. “She was this delicate little bundle with blonde ringlets all dressed in pink. I knew she was special and made a vow beside her crib to be the best big brother on God’s green earth.”

“You’ve done a great job,” I say, encouraging Miles. “And it’s funny. I have a similar story.”

“What do you mean?”

“In May, I sat in this very restaurant and noticed a beautiful young woman dressed in pink, blonde hair curled around her shoulders. I just couldn’t look away from her if I tried. It took me a while to understand my feelings for her—believe our age difference was acceptable.” Miles leans closer into the table, while Tessa beams at us from the bar. “But I can promise you this, Miles. I will never break her heart, though she has the power to destroy mine.”

“I’ll be damned,” Miles says, laughing. “You really do love her, don’t you?”

“With all my heart.”

Miles nods at me, and it looks as if I’ve won over one of the Holly men. Now, it’s time to take a trip to Alabama and meet the rest of her family. I understand Southern fathers appreciate a man asking for his daughter’s hand in person.