“Where’s Brambles?” Oscar asks.
“I took him home first. He doesn’t have enough self-control around buffets.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, Oscar smiles at me.
We’re like a nuclear family as Brody leads the way into Myrtle’s and the rest of us follow obediently. A surly one, but nonetheless, dad’s in charge, mom’s meek and the fucking children are squabbling again.
“Cut it out,” I whisper to them as Henri elbows Oscar out of her way so she can catch up with me.
He gives her small shove, making her stumble.
“Oscar,” Brody reprimands.
“Yeah, Oscar,” Henri mimics.
“Enough,” I say to her as I give her a small shove, making her stumble.
At the booth, Henri and I sit across from the guys, the kids by the window so their escape route is blocked.
“Coffee?” The waitress asks as she stops by the table. Her name is Brea. It’s on her name tag. Nothing gets by me.
“Yeah,” Brody says.
“Please,” I say.
“Make it an expresso,” Henri says.
“Make it an orange juice,” I say.
“And you?” She looks pointedly at Oscar.
He glances at his dad. “I’d like a coke, please.”
Brody says nothing, which gives Henri the go-ahead to protest. “Not fair he gets coke and I have to drink juice.”
“Too bad for you,” Oscar retorts.
Brea looks at me as if I should control my squabbling kids. I stare at Brody. He sighs. “Bring him orange juice.”
Oscar huffs and Henri smirks.
“You doing the buffet or should I bring menus?” Brea asks.
“Menus,” Brody and I say at the same time.
When our eyes meet, he grins at me and my heart almost stops. He has a beautiful smile. Everything about him draws me in. Hands big, calloused and I want to feel them wrapped around my waist. His body, hard, unyielding, his arms holding me tenderly. Even his eyes, even when they’re dead or angry. But it’s in those rare moments when they soften and open up to show the way to his heart. Those are the moments that really suck me in.
I want what he represents. Passion, love, the knowledge that I’m safe in the arms of a man I can trust.
My heart thumps fast, but my head douses me with cold water. Don’t let that fuckin’ man under your skin. You can’t trust him.
Brea drops the menus on the table. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” she says as she saunters off.
It’s unnervingly quiet as the four of us peruse the offerings. Of course the peace doesn’t last as Henri pokes me in the side with her sharp elbow. “Why can’t we have the buffet?”
Oscar looks over at her, then me. “Yeah, why not?” Solidarity at last, but bad timing.
“This is a bonding exercise,” Brody says flatly. “We can’t bond when we’re hunting and gathering.”
