She sighed. “Drunk driver.”
“Wow…I’m sorry.”
“Well, don’t be too sorry because they were the drunk ones. They went to a party and had been drinking. Instead of calling for a ride or even calling me, they drove home and slammed into a telephone pole. Died on impact.”
“Oh fuck.” Now I felt terrible for asking, for putting her on the spot to share that with me.
“Yeah…it was rough. The telephone pole was new, and the road they took was a road they’d traveled on many times. But it was dark, and they probably didn’t expect it to be there. It’s just…yeah.” She took a deep breath and let everything come out slowly. “No one else was hurt, thankfully.”
I had no idea what to say to that, how to respond to such a traumatic event. Some might say it was her parents’ own fault for choosing to drive under the influence, but that would be a cold way to put it. Carson and Denise were the victims of the whole thing, losing their parents in such a devastating manner. “I’m so sorry, Carson.”
“Yeah…thanks.” She gave a weak smile before she stood up. “I’ve got my sister, so I’m grateful for that.”
“She looks nothing like you, but she’s got your spirit.”
She chuckled. “Nah, she’s too sweet. She’s like a sunflower, and I’m a rose covered in thorns. I can totally see why Charlie is hung up on her and calls me a hot mess all the time.”
“Thorns can be trimmed…if you put the time in.”
“But you’re going to cut your hand in the process.”
I rose to my feet, still taller than her despite her pumps. I smoothed out my tie and looked into her gorgeous face, finding her even more beautiful when she let herself be vulnerable for a rare moment. “Still worth it in the end.”
I got to the restaurant first and ordered a glass of wine.
My sister hated it when I drank scotch. She argued it would kill my liver before I turned thirty-five.
But who needs a liver anyway?
I sat alone and waited, bringing the glass to my lips over and over, waiting for my sister to show up with the first man she’d ever wanted to introduce me to. The fact that it was his idea already made me like him. If he was pressing for the introduction, then he wanted to be serious, and that was all I needed to know.
I felt a hot stare on my face and shifted my gaze to the origin.
A woman sat at a table with a friend, and she held the stem of her glass as she gave me a slow smile. The eye contact was intentional, slightly playful.
I didn’t let my gaze linger and quickly averted it.
I just wasn’t in that place quite yet. I was a man with needs, but knowing Carson, she’d probably already hit up Boy Toy #1. Being around her only made it more difficult, because she was the person I wanted to undress, to kiss, to fuck. Knowing her on a deeper level made me want her more.
But there was nothing I could do about that.
I couldn’t pursue her. I couldn’t ask for more. I couldn’t do anything to get her back.
She didn’t want me, and even if she did, she wouldn’t change her mind.
I had to get back on the horse at some point. Otherwise, my dick would explode.
But not now.
I saw Renee walk inside, a tall man behind her. He had dark-blond hair, a height that rivaled mine, and his blue eyes gave him a harmless look. When he gave the hostess a smile, he had a dimple in each cheek. It was a nice restaurant, so he wore a sport coat over his dark jeans. Renee was in a dark blue dress with her hair pulled back slightly, a few loose strands around her face.
Renee spotted me and approached the table. “Good. You ordered wine.”
“I’m on my best behavior for you.” I got to my feet, and even though we didn’t greet each other with affection at the office or when she came by my place, I hugged her with one arm and rubbed her back.
“That makes me less nervous about this whole thing.”
Her guy faced me and extended his hand, that genuine smile still there. “William.”
I took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Dax.”
“It’s great to meet you.” He had a deep voice, with confidence in his gaze, but not arrogance.
I already liked the guy. “You too.”
He pulled out the chair for my sister before he took the seat beside her.
My eyes were on him for a while, seeing the way he grabbed the wine list and scanned through the selection. “What are you drinking, Dax?”
“The 1994 LeMur.”
“Wine connoisseur?”
“No expert, but I don’t drink piss.”
He chuckled. “I’ll trust your decision. What about you, baby?”
She stilled at the affectionate name he threw across the table. “My brother picks out great wine, so I’ll do the same.”
I liked that he didn’t change his behavior around me, that he wasn’t being fake, that I could accept him as he was or dislike him for the same reason. It didn’t matter to him. I’d never told Renee this, but I didn’t want her to be with a man who bent over backward to gain the validation of someone else. He was secure in his true form.
When the waitress came over, they ordered their wine, and I got an appetizer because I was starving. It was a late dinner, and I hadn’t had time to eat much for lunch.
Renee looked at her menu again. “I don’t know what I’m getting…”
William eyed the menu. “The salmon looks good.”
“That’s what I’m having,” I offered.
“Then it’s settled.” He set the menu down. “What about you? I know you hate fish.”
“I think I’m getting the steak.”
He smiled slightly, like he was amused by her choice.
When the waitress brought the drinks, she took our orders then left.
William took a sip. “Definitely a good choice.”
Renee eyed us back and forth, clearly uncomfortable by the whole thing, like I’d challenge him to a duel or something. She was normally calm and collected, never uncomfortable even in the direst situations, but this was important to her, like she needed my approval even though she claimed she didn’t.
I turned to William. “Baseball or basketball?”
“Basketball,” he said immediately. “But I’ll watch a game of baseball if it’s on.”
“I play in a basketball league with some friends. If you ever want to join, let me know.”
“Wow, thanks for the invite. I’d love to pop in sometimes. My routine is the same every morning, and it gets old.”
Renee eyed me with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s exactly why I do it. Lifting weights to music is repetitive.”
“I used to be runner, but that got too boring,” he said with a chuckle.
“Competitively or as a hobby?”
“Competitively in college, but it became a hobby later. But it requires so much time to really put in the miles. It’s much quicker to pump out a workout with weights.”
“Definitely,” I said. “When I was—”
“What is happening here?” Renee eyed me suspiciously.
My gaze turned back to her. “Meaning?”