As CEO of Preston Enterprises and the eldest Preston brother, Nick was used to social engagements. It came with the job, one he was damn good at. But it had to be hard celebrating love when his cheating wife died while running off with her lover.
“What are we talking about?” Nick asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a drink.
“Mom’s matchmaking,” Spencer explained.
“Ah, the Rutherford girl.” Nick nodded, holding his glass to the light, inspecting the amber color. “Good stuff. Where’d you find the ’62?”
Avery looked at his own glass, now empty, and wished he’d put back a bottle for himself. He’d bought the case of Macallan to help him and his brothers mourn Marcus’ impending retirement from bachelorhood. So far, he seemed to be the only one grieving.
For twenty-six years, Marcus had been his best friend and, over the last ten, his wingman. The past few months, though, Marcus had been spending more time with Spencer because Charlotte and Melody were best friends and joined at the hip. It made sense. Which was why Avery had been hanging with his former fraternity brothers, the Sigmas, more often than usual.
Avery sighed. “Dane helped me. It was hard to find, but it was worth it.”
Nick’s brows drove into a frown. “I’d be careful dealing with Cavaletti. He has—”
Avery held up a hand. “It’s just whiskey,” he grumbled, “and I made sure the sale was legitimate.”
When would his family stop treating him like a child? Okay, so maybe he’d gone a little crazy in college, done some stupid shit. But he’d pulled himself together, hadn’t he? Mostly, anyway.
“You know,” Nick said after a moment, “an alliance with Rutherford isn’t a bad idea.”
Avery scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” Nick said. “Just thinking out loud.”
“You marry her then.”
A shadow fell over Nick’s eyes—grief polished into habit rather than real pain, but still there—and regret sliced through Avery. It had been almost three years, threelongyears, since Julie was killed with her lover in a train vs. auto crash, and his brother didn’t seem any closer to healing than the day it happened. And with the anniversary of her death on the horizon, he’d only get worse.
Awkward silence settled over the table until Spencer sat forward. “You mean to tell me, out of all the girls you’ve dated—”
“Fucked,” Avery corrected, grateful for the change in subject, but damn, this one was getting old.
“—there’s not one you’d call a friend?”
Nick scoffed. “Men and women can’t be friends.”
“What he said.” Avery shrugged. “Besides, dating takes too much effort.”And always leads to complications I’d ratheravoid.“It’s easier to get what I need and get out before they catch feelings.”
Spencer shook his head. “Maybe youdoneed an intervention.”
“Speaking of interventions,” Nick said, glancing over Avery’s shoulder, “Mom’s on your six and closing in fast.”
Avery’s spine stiffened. Vaulting out of his chair, he squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. I knew you’d have my back.”
“Always.”
Avery slipped into the crowd and followed the edge of the dance floor, circling out of his mother’s sight. He didn’t need any more of her machinations or lectures about finding happiness. He was happy. At least, he would be with another drink. And a soft willing woman.
In that order.
But his steps slowed as he neared the bar. Althea Rutherford stood in line with Melody.
Oh, hell no.
The buzz of the Macallan dissipating, he veered left, fingering the keys in his pocket, the exit sign above the door beckoning.
Fuck it.
