Nick leans in close and points across the room to a serious-looking man by the window. “Oh, that’s my older brother, Dyson.”
Dyson turns just as Nick says his name. His blue eyes glance at me, like he misses nothing.
“Wow, he’s intimidating.”
“I know,” Nick mutters.
Seconds later, Dyson’s moving toward us.
“You must be Julie.” His handshake is businesslike, but firm. “Nick said you own a coffee shop.”
“Family business. Three generations.”
“Profitable?”
“Dyson, come on,” Nick warns. “Leave your finance bullshit in New York.”
“It’s fine,” I say, grabbing Nick’s hand. “It’s not possible to stay in business for eighty-one years without turning a profit. What do you think?”
Something shifts in Dyson’s expression. Is it respect maybe? I hope.
He smirks. “You’re better than his usual type.”
“Which is?” I can’t help asking. “If you’re going to mention it, I’d like to know what I’m being compared to.”
“He’s never found a woman who was on a level playing field intellectually.”
I’m surprised he answered. “You believe I am?”
“Yeah. At least, I hope you are, or it won’t work out,” Dyson says, and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a warning or not. “Anyway, good chat.”
Dyson walks away, and Nick shakes his head.
“He can’t help his honesty, even if it’s brutal.”
“Lots of reality checks tonight,” I mutter.
We refill our drinks and escape outside to the firepit. The cool evening breeze feels amazing after being in the crowded house that’s full of conversations that feel too real at times. We both let out a sigh, then chuckle.
“This is better,” I say as he settles on a log bench.
The fire crackles, casting shadows across Nick’s face. He pulls me onto his lap, and I lean against him.
“Much better,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chin leaning on my shoulder. “Sorry about my brothers. Neither of them has a filter, but they mean well.”
I reposition myself where I can see his honey-brown eyes. “Was what Dyson said true? About your usual type?”
Nick studies me in the firelight. “Yeah. I think it is true.”
“Is that a warning he gives to everyone?” I ask.
“Not that one,” he admits. “That was a new revelation.”
We sit in the silence, watching the flames flicker upward.
“You live like you’re happy,” Nick says. “It inspires me.”
“I am happy,” I admit. “Right now is all we have, all we’re guaranteed. Are you happy?”
