With any luck. “Maybe? I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, be careful. And if you get even a little buzzed, call me and I’ll come get you. No drunk driving. And buzzed is drunk. You copy?”
“I copy,” I say with only a hint of annoyance. He’s such a dad! But that twinge of guilt intensifies. He’s a good brother. Always looking out for me. And here you are, lying to his face.
He nods, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You need some money?”
I shake my head. I don’t have a lot of money by any stretch of the imagination—hence why I’m so grateful he’s letting me stay rent-free—but I just can’t take his money, not now. “I’m good. I won’t drink too much. I just want to hang out. With…them.”
“Okay. Have fun, kiddo.” He smiles.
I say goodbye and hurry out to the car Alex leased for me when I got hired at the bar. Man, I didn’t expect that to be as hard as it was. Not because he was suspicious of me, but because he believed me so easily.
“And why wouldn’t he?” I mutter to myself. “You’re his sister. He trusts you.”
Ugh.
I can’t go on my date with Nicholas feeling like this. I’ll think about it later. For now, I crank up the music and head out to meet him, telling myself it’s just a little white lie and what Alex doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I can’t quite believe myself.
4
Diego
I stand outside of España, the tapas place Casey asked me to meet her at. I haven’t been this nervous in a while, but at least I’m not sweating.
I don’t really date. And by really, I mean never. This is my first date since I broke up with my high-school sweetheart our first year of college. She liked to party, and unfortunately, that came to mean she liked to party with guys. A lot of them. All night long.
I didn’t begrudge her that. I don’t tell grown people what to do for a living. But I also don’t tolerate cheaters, so I ended things. And for the past four years, I’ve just focused on my extremely demanding job. First in the Air Force as a technician, and now in Alpha Force Elite. It’s kept me too busy to feel lonely all the time, but as I’ve watched Murphy, then Jackson, then Raine, then Kang, then Hopper all find love, it’s made me painfully aware of how alone I am. How much I want someone special, too.
My phone buzzes. A text from Casey. I’m parking!
My stomach explodes with a flutter of nerves. I suddenly feel like a sixteen-year-old kid again on his first date. I’m not a virgin—but can I reclaim that status if I haven’t had sex in a few years?
Then I see her, walking down the sidewalk toward me. I can almost hear the badass music playing, like it’s a movie scene. Her head held confidently high, the breeze blowing her long brown hair back behind her, hips swaying.
Wow.
Casey reaches me and grins. “Well, well, well. I almost didn’t think you’d show.”
“I would never stand you up,” I say. “Besides, I wanted to see you.”
“You sure?” she teases.
I gaze into her eyes. “I’m definitely sure.”
We head inside. I’ve been here before—it’s a chill, elegant place that offers awesome hot and cold tapas and craft cocktails. But I don’t care about anything but the beautiful girl sitting across from me in our cozy little booth.
We immediately start talking, and I loosen up. She’s got such a warm, flirty, funny personality that it’s hard to be nervous around her after a while. She asks me lots of questions about work, and I answer as much as I’m allowed to.
“A master of secrecy,” she says, sipping her house sangria. We ordered a pitcher, and it’s strong and delicious. Reminds me of home.
“I don’t know about that,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s more like what the government will let me say.”
“One day I’ll pry it out of you,” she says with a flirty smile. “I can be very persuasive.”
Maybe it’s the sangria. Maybe it’s her. But my dick twitches a little in my jeans. Three years, it says to me. Three long, cold years.
I shake myself. “So, what about you? Alex says you used to be a Hollywood makeup artist.”
A cloud passes over her beautiful face, and her gray eyes darken. “Yeah. I used to be.”
Clearly a sore spot. I’m curious, but I want to respect her boundaries, so I cast about for something else to say.
But then she says, “I don’t know if he told you the full story, but a producer sexually harassed me, so I bailed. Right on a movie set. I panicked, didn’t know what to do. I was alone out there. But sometimes I regret it. I regret walking out on my dream job.”
“I get it, but no one has a right to treat you that way,” I say. Hot anger fills my chest. I’m outraged that she endured that—and more than anything, the possessive flare I feel tells me that if I ever got that producer alone in a room for five minutes, I could demonstrate some of the many ways I know how to make a grown man cry.
She smiles, as if sensing my ire. “No, they don’t. But it’s Hollywood, you know? That kind of thing happens. You’re supposed to establish your boundaries, not let someone chase you out of town.”
“Have you thought about going back?”
Casey nods. “Every day,” she says softly, and she sounds so sad I can’t stop myself from reaching out to put a hand over hers. Boldly, she intertwines our fingers, as if we’ve been lovers for years. I feel another surge of emotion—but not anger this time. Nowhere near anger. It’s warm and soft, like her hand, and it makes my skin heat and my heart beat fast.
“If makeup is your dream,” I tell her, running my thumb over the back of her hand, “you shouldn’t give up on it. I…might have Instagram-stalked you. Your work is amazing, and that’s coming from a dude who doesn’t know shit about makeup. It’s artistic and perfect. Like stuff I’ve seen in magazines or, well…movies.”
She gives me another sad smile. “You know, talking about it really makes me miss it. But then I think about what happened, and I just feel sick. I guess I’m not ready. But I still have contacts. The actress I worked with on that last movie is actually a friend. She’s always telling me she could get me work anytime I’m ready to go back.”
“Who’s that?” I’m curious. I’ve never known someone who’s known a famous person.
“Adele Lyman.”
I almost spit out my sangria. Adele Lyman is an A-list actress, and I’ve seen probably a dozen of her movies. “You’re friends with Adele Lyman?”
Casey lifts a brow. “You a big fan?”
I can’t help but laugh, realizing I sound like a total groupie. “I like her movies. That epic fantasy trilogy she was in is based on my favorite book series.”
“She’s not bad to look at, either,” Casey says drily.
What—is she jealous?
I grin, leaning forward. “She’s pretty. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. I mean, she’s a movie star. But, Casey, let me be perfectly clear—no one comes close to being as beautiful as you.”