To Daff’s extreme irritation and Lia’s discomfort, the rest of the family started inviting Brand to absolutely every family gathering. Sunday lunch, a potluck dinner on Monday. Tuesday was another holiday—International Workers’ Day—which meant yet another family cookout. Their mother and Daisy fawned over him and fussed over his injuries, and Lia suspected Charlie had a bad case of hero worship. The teen had so many questions about Laura Prentiss and a few of his other well-known high-profile clients. Mason, of course, had a long-standing friendship with him, and Spencer was in the honeymoon phase of a budding bromance with the guy.
Even their father enjoyed discussing football with him, the older man being a fan of the English Premier League. Brand, of course, knew a few of the players personally—information their father found ridiculously impressive. When Mason pointed out that he knew some of the same people, their father had dismissed him by saying his information wasn’t as current.
Lia knew it annoyed Daff no end that everybody liked him so much—she never had anything to say to Brand, and when she did speak to him it was short and to the point. Lia also avoided speaking to him in front of her family, but only because she was terrified she’d seem too familiar with him, which would raise questions about the nature of their relationship.
She could tell that Brand disliked her polite indifference, but he never attempted to breach the distance she maintained, thankfully respecting her boundaries. When he got her alone, though, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. And whenever they finished and she prepared to leave, he’d invite her to stay. It was getting harder for Lia to deny that one-word request, which made it all the more important for her to maintain her resolve.
Wednesday afternoon, after their visit to the animal shelter and the retirement home, Lia drove him to Knysna for his doctor’s appointment. He was becoming increasingly popular with the seniors. He’d been a graceful loser at Sunday night poker and every lady’s favorite dance partner at the Monday and Wednesday seniors’ dance.
He was . . . nice. Against her better judgment, and despite her careful observance of the rules, Lia was starting to like him more with each passing day.
“This is an exceptionally beautiful part of the world,” Brand was saying as he watched the passing scenery. “So verdant, but with all these stunning ocean views. I think, once we get the South African division up and running, I’ll get a holiday home here.”
“It’s a sound investment—this is a great place to live or vacation,” Lia agreed, keeping her voice neutral and her eyes on the road. But her heart was racing at the thought of Brand being a regular in the area and possibly in her life.
“You can come stay with me whenever I’m in town,” he suggested with a sidelong smile, and she shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.
“No. I won’t do that.” She sensed his scrutiny, and her fingers clenched around the steering wheel. “You know there’s an expiration date on this thing between us. Once you leave, it’s over. I’m not going to be your woman in this particular port.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” he asked, the frustration and anger in his voice surprising her.
“It was a play on words,” she explained. “You know? That whole woman-in-every-port thing?”
“And you think I have a woman in every port?”
“Don’t you?”
“No, Lia. I’m not quite the man whore you seem to think I am. I don’t have an international harem of willing ladies on standby for sex every time I happen to wander into their part of the world. Any man who does is an arsehole.” His vehemence surprised her, and she sent him a quick, confused look before refocusing on the road. He intercepted her look and heaved a huge, gusty sigh. The sound was filled with annoyance.
“Why does that surprise you?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I can’t figure you out, that’s all.”
“Here’s a little tidbit for your consideration: the last person I fucked before coming back to Riversend was you.”
She resisted the urge to full-on stare at him as she navigated past a couple of long-haul trucks and then shook her head in disbelief.
“That’s a blatant lie,” she denied, giving him a venomous look. “I don’t care if you’re a player, Brand. This whole thing between us works because of the type of man you are. You don’t have to fabricate BS stories to make me think more of you.”
“Why would you think I’m lying?” he practically yelled, sounding completely affronted.
“Because of Laura Prentiss,” she yelled back, shocking herself by raising her voice.
“Fuck,” she heard him swear, the word low and vehement. “Lally doesn’t count. At all.”
“What? Why not?”
“Jesus.” She saw him lift his left hand to the back of his neck and massage his nape. “Because she and I . . .”
“Oh my God,” Lia breathed, interrupting him. Feeling like blinders had been ripped from her eyes. “Oh my God! You’re in love with her, aren’t you? You don’t consider what you do with her in such base terms because it’s more special.”
“What the fuck?” Complete disbelief in his voice. “Lia, are you shitting me with this? Where do you come up with this bullshit?”
“It’s true, isn’t it? How could you do all those things with me when you’re in love with someone else?”
“I’m not in love with Lally, for fuck’s sake! Stop saying that. Lally and I aren’t even together . . .”
“We’re here,” she interrupted him frostily as she pulled the car into a vacant spot outside the orthopedist’s office. “You’d better get in there or you’ll be late for your appointment.”
“We’re not done talking about this,” he insisted, and she released the steering wheel to pin him with what she hoped was a completely indifferent look.
“I think we are. I’m going to get some lunch. Text me when you’re done.” She pulled the key from the ignition and tossed it into his lap. “Lock the car, please. See you later.”
She left before he could say another word and walked brusquely toward the city center to find a restaurant. She didn’t have an appetite but needed to process what had just happened. If Brand really had feelings for Laura Prentiss, then Lia was doing the unthinkable—she was placing herself squarely in the middle of a possibly redeemable relationship.
Combined with the nickname and the obvious reluctance to discuss her and his supposed breakup with the woman, Lia should have seen this coming a mile away. Lia had offered to be his rebound girl, but if he loved the woman, there was so much more at stake. If he stood any chance of getting back with her before, Lia could quite possibly have ruined it by getting involved with him.
Sam stared dispassionately at his skinny, pale right arm. It looked completely alien to him and smelled pretty funky as well. It had healed enough over the last six weeks for the doctor to feel comfortable about not recasting the limb. The genteel older man had bombarded Sam with a list of aftercare instructions and had recommended a few good physiotherapists in the area for rehab.
Sam sent Lia a text to let her know he was done. He thought about their earlier conversation . . . or was that an argument? He didn’t know how to categorize that particular exchange of words, because it had been so fucking peculiar. Lia had a penchant for seeing things a certain way and then stating them as fact without anything to back up her words. The stuff about Daisy and Mason’s future kids had been cute, but this shit about Lally and Sam was so far out there, he wasn’t sure how to respond to her words. Or even if he wanted to respond. It was probably Sam’s fault for fostering the belief that he and Lally were involved in the first place, but nothing he had ever said or done had hinted at him being in love with Lally.
He waited in the doctor’s reception area, ignoring the flirtatious glances the receptionist was casting his way, keeping his eyes glued to the huge plate-glass window. When he saw Lia walking toward the doctor’s office, he felt an odd, twisting sensation in his chest. The feeling was unfamiliar and freaked him out a little, but he knew it had something to do with Lia and the way she was dressed—pretty and fresh in a plain turquoise knee-length A-line summer dress. And the way she walked—shoulders back, chin up, hips swaying gently with each step. And definitely the way she looked—sweet and wholesome with her sun-kissed freckled nose, her glossy brown hair, worn in a loose ponytail, and her earnest gray eyes, so luminous and expressive a man could lose himself in them.
She was lovely.
Lovely wasn’t a word Sam typically used. But it perfectly described Dahlia McGregor.
He was absently rubbing his chest, trying to ease the crazy, unfamiliar flutter, watching as every step brought her closer to him. She looked pensive and remained unaware of his scrutiny until he exited the doctor’s office to meet her at the door. She stopped and lifted her eyes to his. Sam’s breath stalled. He felt nervous . . . he wasn’t sure why.
Her eyes moved over his face and then down to his arm, and a genuinely happy smile lit up her face.
“The cast is gone,” she pointed out unnecessarily, and he grinned sheepishly, lifting his puny arm like a kid showing off a scrape.
“It looks like shit,” he said, his voice rough, and she laughed.
“Not for long, I’m sure. You’ll have it whipped into shape in no time at all.”
“Lia—”
“Sam—” They spoke simultaneously, but it didn’t escape Sam’s notice that she’d used his name. He liked it. He more than liked it. He wanted her to continue calling him that. He wanted to hear her shout it out when he made her come.
“Me first?” he asked, trying to ignore his reaction to the sound of his name on her lips. She nodded. “Lally and I were never involved. It was something the press fabricated, and neither of us cared enough to correct them. In fact, we figured it might even deter her stalker.” He laughed self-deprecatingly and lifted his arm. “It clearly didn’t.”
“Why did you say you were? I mean, I understand why you didn’t correct the press, but why did you lie to me?” she asked in confusion, and Sam felt a stab of remorse. He felt like a bastard, and he inhaled deeply.
“Okay, this is going to make me sound like a prick, and maybe I am a prick. No, I definitely am . . . but I thought it might help me get you into bed. If you knew we weren’t involved, you would rescind your offer to be my rebound girl. Since I didn’t really need a rebound girl.”
“Okay, the rebound thing may have been one of a few deciding factors,” she admitted uncomfortably. Her honesty winning out again. “I thought it was an adequate excuse to allow myself to enjoy you, in a guilt-free, uncommitted way. But when I thought you were in love with her, I felt terrible about getting in the way of a potential reconciliation.”
“She’s a client. Nothing more.”
“You have a nickname for her.”
“Everybody who knows her personally calls her Lally. How the fuck did you make the leap that I was in love with her?”
“You mean aside from the fact that you deliberately misled me about the nature of your relationship with her?” she asked pointedly, and he felt an uncharacteristic swell of remorse. She continued before he could reply. “Mainly because you always use the F word when you refer to our intimate encounters. I thought maybe you considered your interludes with her in a different, more romantic light.”
“Your thought processes are so bizarre and so fucking fascinating,” he mused, shaking his head. He dropped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her over to drop a kiss on her head.
“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” she said, and his brow lowered.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like that you lied to me,” she explained. “I feel . . . I don’t like it.”
“Lia, it was a lie of omission. If that. You were the one who decided that Lally and I were together. I never said we were. Nothing I said was overtly dishonest.”
“Your very carefully worded responses to any of my questions relating to your relationship with Laura Prentiss were completely dishonest and you know that.”
“God, first you’re pissed off with me for supposedly being in love with Lally and then you’re pissed off with me because I’m not? You’re being irrational, Lia.”
“I’m angry with you for lying,” she corrected. “That’s not a small thing.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“You did.”
“What does it fucking matter?” he finally asked, his voice raised and bordering on a shout. “We were having fun. Enjoying each other. None of it was serious, why are you acting like this is some huge betrayal? I’m not your boyfriend, princess! My relationship, or lack thereof, with Laura Prentiss has no bearing on us. Frankly, it’s none of your goddamned business—yours is a temporary presence in my life and I don’t owe you any explanations.”
His words made her blink, pause, and retreat. He watched it happen—a complete emotional withdrawal—and he couldn’t blame her. He swallowed, almost tasting the words he’d just spewed at her. They were acrid and foul. Completely unpalatable. He opened his mouth to say something else. Something less . . . something more . . .
Just something.
But she’d turned away from him and was heading back to the parking lot, her back ramrod straight while her cute ponytail swayed perkily with each step she took. He stood watching her uncertainly for a moment before following her.
They spent the first half of the twenty-minute drive back in strained silence. Finally deciding that he needed to say something—apologize at least—Sam opened his mouth to talk.
“Lia.” She leaned forward and turned on the radio. An overly cheerful DJ was discussing the weather with his cohost, and they were both way too fucking enthusiastic about it. Sam took the hint and shut his mouth, and the second half of the drive was filled with annoying DJ chatter.
When she brought the car to a standstill in front of the cabin, Sam pointedly turned down the radio and shifted to face her. She kept her gaze straight ahead.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. I didn’t even have a legitimate reason for doing so, it just seemed like—”
“Brand”—she turned to meet his eyes, and he tried not to flinch at the distance he saw in hers—“you’re right. You don’t owe me any apologies and certainly no explanations. I overstepped. It was out of bounds. I think, since your arm is out of its cast, you don’t need me anymore. So why don’t we call this experiment of ours a partial success and move on from there?”
Fuck.
“I still hate doing my own cooking,” he pointed out. “And I paid you for two weeks’ help.”
“In light of our situation and the intimacy, I don’t feel right accepting your money. I’ll be returning it.”
“No. For fuck’s sake, Lia. You only agreed to help me because of that money. You clearly needed it for something.”
“I didn’t earn it, and to accept it after what happened between us just feels wrong.”
“Look, we don’t have to end things. I mean now that everything’s out in the open, it’ll be better. No more secrets, right?”
“I have to get back to my studies,” she shocked him by saying, and he was confused for a moment.
“Studies?”
“I’ve been doing an online bachelor of education degree. My eventual goal is to be a properly qualified foundation phase educator. Preschool teacher, really. I’ve been on a midterm break, but I have a couple of assignments to complete before the new semester starts next week.”
“That’s fantastic, Lia.” Her lips quirked slightly in acknowledgment of his sincere compliment.
“Thank you. But I’ll be busy, so it’s probably best to end our fling.”
“I don’t want to end it.” He knew he sounded petulant, but fuck it, he wasn’t anywhere close to getting her out of his system. “You’re just punishing me because I don’t meet your crazy high morality standard. News flash, princess, nobody can ever meet those impossibly high standards.”
He was starting to recognize that he only ever called her “princess” when he was annoyed with her. Maybe because she put on that prim, unapproachable, high-and-mighty façade whenever she was upset about something. It rubbed him the wrong way.
“Brand, let’s not make this unpleasant. I’d like it if we could remain civil and respectful of each other.”
“God, you’re cold! As frigid as a fucking iceberg.” She paled and flinched at his words, which instantly made him regret saying them. He had meant that she was harsh and unyielding in her decision making, but he wasn’t sure that was how she took it. And that bothered him. Especially when he considered within which other context those words could be used. Somebody had called her frigid—sexually frigid—and Sam was willing to bet it was that prick she was once engaged to. Again, he felt a burning urge to find the bastard and fuck him the hell up.
“Please,” she was saying, her voice quiet. “I have to get home.”
“Sunshine,” he began tentatively, keeping his voice low and sincere, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go this way. I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”
She smiled, but it was one of those horrible ones that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thank you for saying that.”
The prim little thank-you absolutely shredded him, and he fought the urge to gather her into his arms and simply hold her.
“Fuck.” He heard his voice falter on the word. “I’m seriously going to miss you, sunshine.”
“Goodbye, Brand.”
He had no choice—he took another lingering look at her downcast profile before acquiescing to her wishes and leaving the car. Sam stood watching, the heel of his hand pressing against his chest, as she drove away without a backward glance.
Just because Lia had ended their fling did not mean that Brand would magically disappear from her life.
Ha, if only. She managed to avoid him at the animal shelter by changing her visiting times, but she knew, from Siphiso, that he came to see Trevor every day.
And she saw him again just three nights later, having dinner at MJ’s with Daisy and Mason. Lia immediately felt awkward because she was meeting Michael Kendrick, a local accountant, for dinner. It was a blind date—one of the residents from the retirement home had been pushing Lia to meet her grandson for months. And yesterday—after making the less than rational decision to get back on the dating horse, so to speak—she’d asked Mrs. Kendrick for his details. She didn’t know anything about him other than the fact that he was an accountant and—according to his grandmother—a very handsome boy.
Lia halted when she spotted Brand, her first instinct to turn around and wait for Michael outside. She would suggest they go to Ralphie’s for a drink instead. But Daisy caught her eye and waved enthusiastically. Biting back a groan, Lia pasted a smile on her face and waved back. Mason and Brand looked up, too, and she could see the subtle shift in the latter’s body language when he saw her.
When Daisy beckoned her toward them, Lia sighed and reluctantly walked over to their table.
“Hey, wanna join us?” Daisy asked, and Lia, diligently avoiding Brand’s eyes, shook her head, hoping she looked reluctant enough.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I have a date.” She sneaked a glance at Brand and was surprised to see his brow lower at her words.
“You can both join us,” Brand suggested, and this time she met his eyes directly, trying to prevent her sister and brother-in-law from seeing the daggers she was throwing at him.
“I don’t think so.”
“A date? Who is he? Anyone I know?” Daisy asked eagerly.
“I don’t think so. His name’s Michael Kendrick.”
“Mikey? I know him, we were in the same grade.” Which meant that he was about twenty-eight, four years younger than Lia. Not a deal breaker or anything, just disconcerting. Most guys in their thirties were married already anyway, so it was actually surprising that this was the first younger man she’d encountered since she had started dating again.
“Doing a bit of cradle snatching, are you, Lia?” Brand’s voice was as smooth as silk, and Lia tried very hard not to react to his comment.
“Younger men have so much more stamina, though, don’t they?”
Gah! Had she really just said that? She didn’t make insinuations about sex in public, or in private, for that matter, no matter how mild. Daisy looked startled by her comment, Mason was grinning, and Brand looked angry. She didn’t think she had ever seen him angry before. Charming, in pain, turned on, tired, and grumpy, but never truly angry.
He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something scathing, when a deep voice, coming from behind Daff, interrupted him.
“Dahlia?” Lia spun around and then smiled as she looked up at the tall, very handsome man standing behind her. He had dark hair, a well-maintained beard, and deep-set brown eyes. “I’m Michael. Nice to meet you.”
“How did you know it was me?” Lia asked in confusion, still a bit awed by his height and good looks. Blind dates were supposed to be disappointing, but Michael Kendrick exceeded expectations by a mile. She heard Brand make an irritable sound and ignored him.
“You said you’d be wearing a pink cardigan,” he said with a kind smile. “Although I’d say it’s more fuchsia, don’t you agree? It’s a very pretty cardigan—did you make it yourself?”
Lia looked down at her bright cardigan and blushed.
“Yes, I did. I knit . . . as a hobby. I like to make pretty things. I put a lot of them away, as gifts, or, you know, for the future and . . .” She was babbling. She cleared her throat, her voice tapering off, and took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Brand’s. He was watching her intently, so she shifted her gaze back to Michael’s patient stare.
“Hi, Daisy, long time no see,” Michael said, smiling at her sister and bending down to drop a kiss on her cheek. Oddly enough, Mason, who was usually absurdly possessive over Daisy, remained completely relaxed through the interaction.
“Hello, Mikey. Nice to see you again. This is my husband, Mason, and his friend Sam.” The two men stood up to shake hands with Michael.
“We should find our own table, Michael,” Lia said, and he grinned, looking quite roguish.
“We should . . . although maybe we could join this table? Unless you all are expecting more people?”
Daisy looked hesitant, her eyes widening as she looked at Lia, who was frantically shaking her head behind Michael’s back.
“Not at all,” Brand said pleasantly. “More than enough space for you two at our table.”
Sam kept his eyes on Lia’s miserable face as she and her date joined their table. He shouldn’t have intervened—he should have let them go off to their own table. But he was trying to protect her. Initially, after learning about her date, he’d felt an irrational spurt of possessiveness at the thought of Lia out with some undeserving bloke. Worse, what if she liked the guy? What if there was a second date and a third? What if it became a thing? Sam didn’t like that idea, because it would completely eliminate the possibility of any renewal of future intimate interactions between Lia and him.
Then this Kendrick guy showed up and he was tall, dark, and handsome. A slightly younger stud. He could tell from Lia’s reaction that the guy had made a strong first impression, and all Sam had wanted to do was sabotage the whole fucking evening.
But then Kendrick had opened his mouth and called Lia’s pink cardigan fuchsia. What the fuck was a fuchsia? At first Sam wasn’t sure if the guy was referring to the wool or the design until it had clicked that he meant the color. And then the guy had turned to the table, his eyes had gone over Mason, checking him out quite thoroughly, before his gaze had fallen on Sam and lingered. Sam knew that look—he had perfected that look. The surreptitious and appreciative once-over.
Sam wasn’t sure why the guy was on a date with Lia, but he was pissed off for a different reason now. He didn’t know what Kendrick’s deal was, maybe he was into guys and girls, whatever. But this asshole was blatantly checking Mason and Sam out, which was more than a little disrespectful to Lia. Not cool. She should be the man’s sole focus this evening.
Sam wasn’t going to allow this dick to play fast and loose with Lia’s feelings. Not on my fucking watch! he told himself. Sam knew it wasn’t his place to be watching over Lia. She wouldn’t want or appreciate it. Especially since his motives weren’t at all altruistic.
But that was why Sam had invited them to join the group, and Lia could stare daggers at him all night if she wanted to, but at least she wasn’t going to develop feelings for a guy who didn’t look set to return them. He tried to ignore the hypocrisy in the sentiment—the longer he and Lia had kept flinging, the more likely she was to develop feelings for Sam. No matter her protestations to the contrary. So maybe there was more than one prick sitting at the table tonight. Sam was honest enough to acknowledge that and selfish enough to dismiss the feelings of guilt that accompanied that self-awareness.
Daisy and Mason looked a bit awkward at the sudden inclusion of a clearly reluctant Lia and her date to their table. Mason was giving him curious sidelong looks, but Sam avoided his friend’s eyes.
“So Michael,” he began amiably. “What do you do?”
“I’m a senior accountant at Rutger, Powell & Lee.”
“Is that a local firm?” he asked, and Michael nodded, his eyes on Sam.
“It is. You have an accent. English?”
“Yes. How did you meet Lia?”
“Through my grandmother. You look familiar. You’re that guy, aren’t you? The one who saved Laura Prentiss. You’re a bodyguard.”
“Close protection officer,” Sam corrected. “And yes, I’m that guy. Is your grandmother Mrs. Kendrick at the old-age home?”
“Retirement home,” Lia corrected, her voice short, and he smiled at her.
“Sorry, the retirement home. She dances a mean waltz.”
“You know her?” the guy asked, his eyes widening in shock.
“Yes, I see her twice a week at the dance recitals.” He watched Kendrick process the words and then immediately retreat. No more borderline flirtatious looks and interested questions. Granny Kendrick probably didn’t know that Michael liked men. Sad that the guy hid his true self from his family.
Kendrick finally seemed to remember his date and started asking Lia all the usual questions. He was polite but distant and his eyes kept roaming around the room and lingering on a few of the other men in the restaurant. Lia smiled, her expression artificially bright, as she put on a first-date show for the guy. Not seeming to notice that the guy, while friendly and polite, seemed not even the slightest bit interested in her. But Sam could tell she was nervous and that his presence made her uncomfortable and abruptly felt like a shit for putting her in that position.
He should have backed off, let them have their dinner, and had a private conversation with her about Kendrick later. As a friend.
Mason and Daisy were making small talk with Lia and Kendrick while Sam, a headache developing, sat silently and observed.
Lia didn’t know how, but somehow the awkward evening managed to pass pleasantly enough. Something in Brand had changed during his intense exchange with Michael, because he had been quiet for most of the evening after that, only answering questions when he was addressed directly. He kept rubbing his forehead and his eyes were narrowed against the light, and she wondered if he were in pain. She verged on asking him more than once but always thought the better of it and continued to keep her focus on her date.
Michael was nice. She had found his exchange with Brand a bit odd and had felt completely excluded from their conversation, but she soon became the man’s main focus.
She liked him, but she wasn’t attracted to him. And truthfully, he didn’t seem all that interested in her. He spent a lot of time talking to Mason, who looked uncomfortable but kept the conversation pleasant. Oh well, at least Michael wasn’t boring like Gregory.
Lia and Michael were stiltedly discussing their mutual interest in ikebana when Daisy loudly proclaimed that she was going to the ladies’ room and then gave Lia a pointed look.
“Uh. Me too?” Daisy nodded and Lia placed her napkin on the table before excusing herself. She followed Daisy into the unisex restroom and watched as her sister checked all the stalls before turning to glare at her.
“What’s up, Daisy?”
“Seriously, Lia? Seriously? ”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look, Mikey’s a nice guy, I’ve always liked him, but even back in school he never seemed all that into girls. I always thought he was just shy. But he’s cute, there were opportunities but he never seemed to take them. And tonight, I finally understand why. He’s spent more time chatting with Mason and full-on flirting with Sam, than he has with you.”
“What? Are you saying he’s not into women?”
“I don’t know. I just feel that you deserve more than a guy who doesn’t seem to even notice you as a sexual being.”
“It’s a first date and it’s awkward with all of you there. Things aren’t progressing the way a normal first date would.”
“He hasn’t even looked at your boobs! Not once!”
“He’s a gentleman. And this top isn’t exactly meant to tempt a man’s eyes in that direction.” She was wearing a high-collared blouse with a soft, flowing skirt tonight. Not unattractive, but not exactly designed to set a man on fire with lust.
“Please, no man is that much of a gentleman. If your boobs aren’t tempting, why have Brand’s eyes not strayed from them most of the evening?”
“They haven’t?” Naturally she had been aware of his gaze all evening, but she had been too busy not looking at Brand to know where his eyes were focused.
“Oh, there may have been a slight break between dinner and dessert, but they’ve constantly wandered to your boobs throughout the night.”
“Michael’s not gay.”
“Maybe not, maybe he likes girls, too, but the man’s tongue nearly fell out when he saw Brand. Now call me crazy, but I think your date should be reacting that way to you, not to one of your dinner companions. Look, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about this guy only to be disappointed, okay?”
Lia nodded miserably as she considered her conversation with Michael tonight. He’d been very nice and very friendly, but also distant and polite. Not exactly showing an interest in her at all.
Even if Daisy was wrong and he wasn’t interested in Brand, he definitely wasn’t into Lia, and, honestly, she wasn’t into him, either. Her shoulders fell, and Daisy hugged her.
“I’m sorry, Lia,” she said, genuinely contrite. “I was hoping you’d clue in before I had to spell it out for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been having no luck dating at all.”
“Well, if all else fails, at least you know Brand thinks your boobies are riveting,” Daisy teased, and Lia fought back a blush.
“Shut up,” she mumbled, too scared to say much more than that for fear of alerting her sister to the fact that Brand was most likely staring at her breasts because he knew how they looked naked.
“Brand’s a nice enough guy, but such a player. Mason once told me that he’s a prick—’scuse the French—with women.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, a real love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Once he moves on, which is usually after just a few weeks, he deletes all pictures, contact details, and correspondence from them off his phone and computer. He erases them from his life, as if they never existed. Never mentions them again.”
“Is that so?” Lia asked faintly, wondering if Sam had erased her number yet.
“Yes.” Daisy turned to check her makeup and met Lia’s eyes in the mirror. “But the weird thing is the women are aware of his terms, and for the most part they’re happy enough to move on afterward. There have been a few who went a bit stalkery, though, wouldn’t accept that he meant it when he told them it was over.”
“What did he do?” Lia asked breathlessly.
“Mason says restraining orders and stern lectures from the police usually did the trick.”
How humiliating for those women.
“We should probably head back,” Lia said, feeling a bit queasy after the reveal about Michael and the information about Brand.
Dinner ended soon after the women returned to the table. Lia kept her interaction with Michael light and friendly. They argued amicably over the bill until she charmingly relented and allowed him to cover their portion of the meal.
“I’ll chat with you tomorrow, Daisy,” Lia promised, giving her sister a hug and a kiss. She followed that up with a hug for Mason.
“Good night, Brand,” she said curtly, still not meeting his eyes.
“I’ll be seeing you, Lia. Take care, Kendrick.”
Michael barely looked at Brand, just nodded, before he politely escorted Lia out of the restaurant and to her car.
“I had a nice evening,” he said, his voice neutral.
“Me too,” she said, wrapping her cardigan around her to ward off the chill in the air.
“Maybe we can do it again sometime?” he suggested when they reached her car.
“Maybe.” He nodded at her response. Both silently acknowledging that there would be no future interaction between them.
“Good night, Michael.”
“’Night, Lia.” He held the door for her and closed it after she had climbed into her car. Lia silently wished him well as she drove off and left him standing in the nearly empty parking lot.
I’m sorry I fucked up your evening, sunshine. The message came about half an hour after Lia got home from her date. She stared at the screen and all she felt was a weird relief that he hadn’t yet deleted her number from his phone.
You didn’t.
I did. I shouldn’t have interfered. She read the message a couple of times, and a few minutes elapsed before she responded.
I’m sorry my date flirted with you. Her phone rang thirty seconds later, and his name popped onto the screen. She accepted the call immediately.
“Brand?”
“The guy was a dick. He shouldn’t have gone out with you and flirted with other people,” he said, his gravelly voice thick with annoyance.
“You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you invited us to sit at the table.”
“I didn’t like that he was playing you. It pissed me off.”
“I think it’s really sad that he feels like he has to pretend to be something he’s not.”
“Yeah, well, he can fucking pretend with someone else.” Why did he sound so indignant about something that had no direct effect on him?
“Well, no harm done,” Lia said, her voice deliberately light. “Part and parcel of being lost in the dating wilderness again.”
“So this wasn’t a one-off thing? You’re definitely dating again?”
“I know I must seem like an indecisive idiot.”
“No. Just hopeful.” His voice was heartbreakingly gentle. “I’m glad you haven’t given up on that hope, Lia.”
“I feel so stupid,” she admitted softly. “I keep putting myself out there and then this.”
“How are you meeting these guys?” he asked curiously, and she drew in a huge breath as she tried to settle her erratic emotions and concentrate on answering his question.
“Well, Michael was obviously through Mrs. Kendrick, and Gregory is my friend Tilda’s brother’s colleague.”
“So you have a network of connections? Like an analog dating site?”
“More like an old-fashioned matchmaking ring,” she corrected with a laugh. “And it’s safer than online dating, because murdering me would mean they’d have to murder the friend who set us up, too, in order to cover up the crime.”
“Jesus, that’s fucking grim. Don’t talk like that.” He sounded genuinely freaked out, and she laughed again, more heartily this time.
“I’ll be perfectly safe, Brand. You don’t have to worry.”
“Do you have your next date set up already?”
“Of course not. How awful would that be? Like I was anticipating failure with Michael before even going on a first date with him. I’m not that pessimistic.”
“It’s good to plan ahead.”
“No, this is stressful enough without thinking about more than one date simultaneously. I prefer taking it one guy at a time. It feels less cold-blooded.”
“You’re dangerously naïve, sunshine.”
“And you’re hopelessly cynical, Brand.”
“Will you let me know when you go on your next date?” he asked, not responding to her statement. She snorted in answer to his question.
“Of course not. And have you show up at all of my dates like some overprotective father figure? I don’t think so! I already have a dad, and he trusts me to make the right decisions.” That was true, even though she had often failed in her decision making. Her father—both her parents, really—remained supportive.
“I just want you to be safe. Look, I know we’re not flinging anymore, but I did promise you I’d help you find your man, remember?”
“I remember. I also remember telling you that the thought of an arrangement like that made me uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, but only because we were fucking.”
“Brand, you’re not going to be my Mr. Matchmaker, okay?” she said in her most no-nonsense voice. “I told you before . . . you don’t get to play this role in my life. I don’t need you to be my hero.”
“Lia?”
“Yes?”
“Will you come over?” His voice was gruff, and Lia sighed and shook her head.
“No.” She hung up without saying good night.