“Right.” She straightened up, but her eyes never left Dylan. “I assumed she wanted that with her entrée.”
“Sounds like a question for her.” The annoyance in Dylan’s voice was plain.
“Right.” Our waitress swung around and blinked down at me.
My eyes darted between Dylan and her. “With the entrée is fine.”
Really all I wanted was for this uncomfortable moment to be over.
“Right.” She turned back to Dylan and smiled prettily. “Your order should be up soon.”
I seriously doubted that. But I was glad when she finally left. This time with considerably less bounce in her step.
“So fucking annoying,” Dylan muttered.
“You poor baby.” I blinked in feigned sympathy. “Women throw themselves at you often? It must be so hard to be wanted.”
A small smile cracked his annoyance features. After a beat, he rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“The charmed life of a reality star.” I folded my hands under my chin and smiled. “So much hardship. However do you get through it?”
Dylan scowled. “It’s not all fangirls and boob signings, you know.”
“You mean you do actual work? Like it’s not all just for the cameras?” I sat back in my chair with a smile. Teasing him was so much fun.
He grunted again. “Something like that. You know we had the shop before the show, right? We’ve been building bikes while you were still playing with Barbies.”
“Wait, how old do you think I am?” I gestured between us. “There’s only an eight year difference between us.”
His eyebrows went up. Yeah, I’d done the math. “My point still stands. I started working for my brothers in high school. Which would’ve made you…eight.”
“I’ll have you know I stopped playing with Barbies long before that.” Mostly because we couldn’t afford it, but like hell was I admitting that in front of the cameras.
Dylan shrugged. “All I’m saying is that we’ve been doing this for a while.”
“Because back in my day,” I said in a feigned elderly voice.
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Just remember, Sacramento might be a big city, but the industry is surprisingly small.” He huffed then muttered under his breath, “Especially if you screw people over.”
But I still heard him. “You mean your dad.”
“No, I mean me. I was the one who got him jobs. I was the one who promised that he was someone worth hiring. I was the one who had to pay them all back after he stole from every single job. God, he’s an ass.”
“But he’s out of your life, now. Right?”
Dylan’s gaze darted away and a muscle flexed in his cheek like he was biting down on his answer.
“Dylan?” My eyes flicked to the waiting camera crew. “Um, we can always talk about this later.”
His eyes finally met mine and he looked so tired. He shook his head. “There’s no point. James will get it out of me one way or another. But uh, my dad has been sending me threatening letters. I mean, they sound innocuous on the surface, but I know what he means. He’s pissed that he’s back in jail and he blames me. He talks about how he can’t wait to meet up again next time he gets out.”
“Dylan.” My heart broke for him. “You should tell someone.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like he has any friends. He burned all his bridges. Like father, like son, right?”
“You’re not like him. You’re the furthest thing from that asshole. You have to know that.” Dylan was nothing like the guy my dad had ranted about on the phone when I spoke to him last.
It was starting to make me wonder what else he’d gotten wrong.
