“Make your move,” he says, as if it’s so simple.
“As my best friend, you’re saying I should see what we could be? I don’t even think she’d entertain the idea.”
“You don’t know that. And I’m saying this as your best friend, I can see you want to. I have to play so many roles in your life, so let me get this right. As your manager, I’d say no fucking way, stay away from her. As your best friend, I’m saying fuck her. But as your brother, I’m saying take it slow. Feel it out. See where it goes. See if this thing has any legs or substance for the long haul.”
I sigh. “How the hell do I know if a relationship has legs?”
Beau looks at me hard. “You’re an idiot. If it does, you’ll know. Look for the signs.”
“What are the signs?”
“Oh my god, do I have to hold your hand? You’ll know when you know.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Zander, you know when a girl likes you. You know the feeling it provokes. And when you feel something different from what you’ve always felt—that’s your sign.”
I nod and stand straight. I can do this. “All right. Okay. So, what do I do tonight? I mean, she can’t drink, and we’re going to a bar.”
“You don’t even know if she’s fucking coming. That’s your first step, buddy. Ask her to go to the bar first.”
I grip the back of my neck with both hands. “My god, I feel like a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Well, yeah, you’re acting like one. Time to man up, buddy. You’ve got big balls and a big dick now. Act like it.” He pats me on the back and heads out of the barn. “Seven o’clock, the SUVs roll out!”
I’ve never even dated a woman, and somehow the first one I’m trying to win over is the mother of my child. If that’s not messed up, I don’t know what is.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zander
I never thought I’d be the type of guy who got nervous about knocking on a woman’s door, but as I stand on Romy’s front porch with sweaty palms and my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, I realize that’s who I am. At least with Romy.
She doesn’t want me here. What I did is unforgiveable. There’s no way she’ll trust me with her heart again.
I raise my hand to knock and lower my fist back to my side.
Come on, you’re Zander fucking Shaw, of course she’s going to say yes.
The problem with that thinking is that I don’t want her to want me because of who I am to everyone else. I want her to want me for me.
I raise my fist another time, but the door swings open. Instead of Romy, it’s Poppy.
“Gonna stand there all night?” She opens the door wider.
Judging from her glare, I’m still on her shit list. And it’s hard to get off that list when I can’t tell her that I didn’t want her pregnant cousin on the ladder in case she fell.
“Hello, Mr. Country Superstar.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. She leans against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest as though I’m the last person she wants to see tonight. “Here to pick out her outfit tonight? Tell her she can’t wear lipstick?”
“I think you and your queen bee have some similarities.” I nod toward inside the house. “Is Romy here?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs, her arms crossed.
I hear a set of steps walk up the stairs behind me as Poppy’s scowl deepens.
“I feel so honored to have two controlling men on my porch tonight,” she says.
I slyly look at the man next to me. Nash.
