At that Noah choked. “Now I know you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.” His gaze shot to Noah, who sat with a flabbergasted expression that might’ve been comical if Jeremy was feeling it. “Do you think that’s weird? Or do you think it means he doesn’t really like me and is trying to give me the letdown?”
When Noah didn’t answer for a moment, Jeremy’s nerves grew to a boil. “What? Tell me. I can deal with it.”
“You like this guy.”
“Wow, Noah. All those years of training for your PhD, and this is the best you can come up with?”
Unperturbed by his sarcasm, Noah sat back in his chair, swirling his wine with a self-satisfied smirk. “Yeah. You really like him. I’ve never seen you care if the other person liked you. It was all about getting in their pants and then moving on.”
“You make me sound like a slut.”
“No, not a slut. But you have to admit, you’ve had more than your share of sexcapades. When did you last have a relationship?”
Annoyed at his younger brother’s insight, Jeremy groused. “I dunno. Probably not since college. It wasn’t anything big, only a few months.” He didn’t even remember the guy’s name.
“So over fifteen years. And in that time have you ever even casually dated someone without it starting with sex?”
In the distance, Jeremy saw the waiter coming with their appetizers, so he refrained from speaking. Not that he needed to. Both he and Noah knew the answer. But he knew Noah wouldn’t let him get away without talking.
Unaware of the simmering tension between them, JJ set the steaming plates, fragrant with garlic and tomatoes, in the center of the table. “Enjoy, guys.”
Jeremy picked up the serving spoon, but Noah placed a hand over his.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Trying to keep it light, Jeremy gave his younger brother a smile.
“You always try and protect me, but I can see something’s bothering you. What’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me? I swear I wasn’t making fun of you. If you like this guy—Blake, I think you said his name was—then I’m thrilled and would love to meet him.”
No way in fucking hell could Jeremy ever tell Noah how he still felt—like a tossed-aside birthday gift when a bigger, better one came along. Years ago they’d shared their secrets, and both liked to pretend they’d overcome their issues. Tonight proved he hadn’t. His problem had nothing to do with Noah and everything to do with what he kept inside his head.
“Sure. If we’re still seeing each other, I’ll bring him here to dinner in a couple of weeks.”
They ate and made small talk, ignoring the real issues between them.
“Shit.” Noah checked his watch. “I gotta run to the radio station. Talk to you and see you next week. Good luck with Blake.”
“Thanks. I got the check.” Jeremy waved to Noah. “Go get a cab.”
He watched Noah sprint out of the restaurant before pulling out his phone and sending a text to Blake. He had no idea why the soft-spoken accountant had crept under his skin, but Jeremy wanted to find out.
Chapter Four
The cozy kitchenMichelle had created calmed Blake’s nervous insides. Since their last date, he’d been unable to concentrate on much of anything except Jeremy, and Blake knew that was a mistake. He’d had this happen to him before: meet a guy, have a hot make-out session, only to never hear from the man again once he’d put the brakes on sex. But he and Jeremy had texted every day and seen each other for coffee and another night of movie watching and true to his promise, Jeremy didn’t pressure him to have sex.
But several days had now passed without him hearing from Jeremy, and Blake wondered if he’d gotten sick of the rules and moved on. Depressed, Blake took a sip of his coffee and watched his sister interact with Henry. His nephew had already learned to use his considerable charm to get what he wanted.
“Please, Mommy? All I have is two pages left of reading. I promised Jacks we’d Facetime tonight.”
“If it’s only two pages, then it shouldn’t take you long at all. Finish up homework and then computer time. Those are the rules.”
“Uncle Blake—”
“Oh, no you don’t, kiddo. I amnotgetting in the middle of you and your mom. They’re her rules.”
Pouting, Henry heaved a torturous sigh, as if he’d been asked to write his name a hundred times in a row. “Fine. Bye.” And with those petulant words, he ran up the back stairs.
