Ian would see right through me. And then he’d run away. Or, worse, laugh. Or, even worse, let me down easy with that warm, gentle, “big brotherly” look that’s on his face right now.
Just the thought of that is enough to make me want to dissolve into a million microscopic beads and roll between the couch cushions, never to be found again.
Coward.
I wrinkle my nose. I’m not a coward.
Then say yes. At least give it a shot. Even if you don’t have the guts to go after the guy you really want, Ian should be able to help you find someone better than Vince.
I chew my bottom lip. The inner voice has a point.
And what do I have to lose? Nights alone in the apartment while Harlow studies late and Cameron and Jess hit the town with Ian, learning how to be Dating All-Stars?
“Okay,” I finally say. “I’m game. On one condition—we don’t tell Derrick. He’s already going to be angry when he finds out what happened tonight. I don’t want him all up in my business, hovering and fretting and being weird while I’m trying to learn how to pull tail.”
Cameron cocks his head. “I think that slang is gender specific. Like, men pull female tail and women pull…something else.”
“Really?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
“Um, no. I’m not.” He hands Ian two plates with a laugh. “Are you sure you want to take the three of us on? You’re going to have your work cut out for you.”
“Yeah, I’m totally in,” Ian says, carrying the plates to the long table between the kitchen and the living room area where we eat, study, and play cards on Sunday nights. “I’m excited about it. You guys are great people. Whoever you end up with is going to be hella lucky. And if I get to play a part in helping great people find other great people…then that’s awesome.”
“I agree.” Harlow moves into the kitchen to fetch utensils and cloth napkins from our stash by the sink. “And I believe your intentions are pure, Ian. But that doesn’t mean you have the skills to pay the matchmaker bills.”
“Well, I won’t really be a matchmaker,” Ian says. “I’ll be more like a coach, training and prepping my team to compete at the highest level.” His eyes glitter as he pulls out two chairs and nods toward Jess and me. “The more I think about it, the more psyched I am to get started. You guys are in great shape. You just need a little fine-tuning, and you’ll be ready to dominate the New York dating scene.”
“But what’s in it for you?” Harlow demands. “Don’t say the satisfaction of helping other people or I’m going to vomit. And unlike our little whiskey exorcist over there, I never miss my target.”
Jess grabs my hand, hauling me up off the couch. “It will keep his mind off his own heartbreak and romantic failure. Right, Ian? You did say Whitney broke up with you, right?”
“Yeah. What happened?” I ask as I settle into my seat amidst the mouthwatering aroma of steamy sausage and pepper scrambles and savory pancakes. “Are you okay? I thought you two were in it for the long haul.”
He shrugs before taking the seat across from mine. “Things haven’t been great for a while. I wasn’t meeting her expectations and didn’t know if I’d ever be able to meet them, so…”
“She wanted you to put a ring on it,” Harlow says knowingly as she sets silverware beside my plate. “And you want to run free like a wild stallion.”
Ian’s lips hook up on one side. “No, I didn’t want to run free like a wild stallion. I just didn’t want to make a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. From what I’ve seen, marriage isn’t easy. It’s like…trying to walk a tightrope in an earthquake.”
Harlow grunts as she holds out his silverware. “That’s a good analogy. And admirable behavior.”
Ian’s brows shoot up as he accepts the napkin, fork, and knife. “Was that a compliment? From you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get too excited. You’re still on probation in the court of my affections. And I will be sitting in on these ‘lessons’ of yours to make sure you don’t lead my best friends astray.”
“I won’t,” he assures her. “Of course, I won’t.”
“I’m serious, Ian,” she insists. “These three people are my entire world. If you hurt them, I’m going to be very angry with you, and you won’t like me when I’m angry.”
“You really wouldn’t.” Jess points her triangle of freshly buttered toast Ian’s way. “She’s like an Irish banshee—noisy and out to reap souls first and ask questions never. You may think you’ve seen her angry, but you haven’t. And you don’t want to.”
“So, calling me ‘asshole’ or ‘Hitler’ for years was—”
“A symptom of mild irritation,” Harlow supplies. “Yes.”
“But once she’s your friend, she’s the best person in the world to have on your side,” Jess says, grinning at Harlow as she takes the chair beside hers. “A more loyal, fiercely loving, or funny friend is hard to find.”
“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” Harlow says, throwing her napkin at Jess and then instantly leaning in to hug her tight.
“Looks like the only thing left to decide is when class is in session,” Cameron says, sitting down with his plate and digging into his scramble.
We all tuck into our delicious breakfast-for-dinner meal as we chat about our schedules. Preseason games don’t start for Ian for another two weeks and the rest of us always have Monday and Thursday nights free after work and school. We decide on a bi-weekly schedule to begin in just three days’ time.
That gives me three days to build up my courage.
Three days to decide if I have the guts to act on the fizzing, floating feeling that fills me every time Ian shoots a grin my way or if I’m going to let fears about the fallout with Derrick and all the other things that could go wrong scare me into sitting around with my thumb up my ass.
And I swear, that’s the exact thought going through my head as a fist pounds on our front door and a deep, outraged voice shouts through the heavy wood, “Evie Eleanor Olsen. Open this door. Right now!”
Chapter 7
Ian
Evie’s eyes go wide and all the color drains from her face. “Oh no.”
My stomach clamps down around my eggs and pancakes as I realize I’ll have the chance to start making things right with her sooner than I expected.
Surely, it won’t be that hard. Derrick is a hothead and a control freak, but he’s also been my best friend since we were sixteen years old. And none of us are kids anymore.
Once I give him some constructive feedback about adult sibling relationships, he’ll see that I’m right. After all, it’s not like I don’t know what it’s like to be a protective big brother—I have seven younger brothers and sisters, and I’d move heaven and earth to help any one of them—but only if they ask me to.
That’s the piece of the puzzle that Derrick’s missing. Evie has to ask him for his help and advice, otherwise he’s overstepping.