That traitor.
I curse Rowan under my breath when Daisy and Landry turn tostudy me the second he’s gone. I’ve got half a mind to blurt out something along the lines ofOh, and by the way, I just happen to know Rowan’s preferred brand of underwear and that sexy noise he makes when you kiss him on the?—
“Why do you look so guilty?” Daisy asks, narrowing her eyes at me. “Landry’s right. You’re hiding something.”
I force a shrug. “I haven’t done anything worth blabbing about … lately.”
Certainly not your brother, but not for a lack of trying.
“We may not have been friends for long, but I know you can’t keep a secret.” She wags a finger at me. “And don’t think I’m not drawing conclusions after the conversation we left unfinished. You know, when we were talking about the same guy who seems to make you get all fidgety and nervous anytime you’re in the same room together.”
“I donotget fidgety and nervous around him.”
Maybe just a little hot and bothered.
Daisy scoffs. “Okay, then why are you walking around with one boot? And why were you questioning me about Rowan’s dating habits earlier?”
I look down to find that she’s right and stifle another curse. “I wasn’t fishing for you to set me up with your brother,” I answer as I remove said boot. “I was only curious because I’ve been out of the dating game for so long that I honestly don’t know how this works anymore. It was more like a case study.”
Landry snorts. “Do you really think you could get away with asking her about Rowan and not be forced into at least one date after that?”
“You’ve all made it very clear that I’m not his type. And I don’t think he’s mine,” I fib, mustering up as much faux confidence as I can.
“There it is again,” Daisy points at me. “You keep doing this weird, blinky thing every time you talk about him.”
“No, I don’t.” But I have to deliberately force my eyelids to stayopen that time, and I’m pretty sure my cheeks are growing dark enough to make up for it.
“It’s not her fault. The vibe is awkward because I asked her out a while back, and she turned me down. Happy now?” Rowan calls out from the hallway, barely glancing my way as he saunters into the small galley kitchen.
“At our wedding reception, you mean?” Landry asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Before that, when we first met,” Rowan answers, to my surprise. “But I struck out that night, too.”
“Really?” Landry stares thoughtfully in Rowan’s direction, while Daisy keeps her gaze narrowed on me.
I force another noncommittal shrug and walk toward the kitchen, taking care not to blink this time. “Technically, I didn’t turn him down. I told him my divorce was too fresh for anything serious. He’s the one that decided we’d only be wasting one another’s time.”
Rowan’s eyes flash to mine, and my shoulders droop when I see the disappointment hiding just below the surface.
“Can we get back to dinner?” he asks, his tone hinting at his annoyance before he shifts back into a more pleasant disposition. I’m starting to suspect I might be the only one who gets to see the other side of him, the tired, lonely, and slightly jaded thirty-something-year-old. It’s another scary thought, since he’s the only person who knows the more vulnerable, emotional half of me.
I clear my throat and walk over to join him. “Whatcha making, Chef Boyardee?” I inquire, and he smiles appreciatively before ducking his head into the freezer.
“I was honestly banking on using a bowl of my dad’s famous duck gumbo as a starter, since I know my parents stocked the freezer while these two were on their honeymoon, but it looks like they’ve already raided the stash,” he mumbles.
“I’ll have you know that I’m getting better at cooking. I’ve practically perfected Mom’s bread pudding recipe,” Daisy yells defensively from across the room, and Landry grunts.
Rowan tosses a pack of smoked sausage onto the counter beforemoving toward the pantry, and my eyes immediately zero in on a red lid. I instinctively dart forward to snatch the peanut butter jar out of his reach.
“Probably ought to avoid this one,” I say awkwardly, holding it up for them to see.
“Yeah, thanks,” he replies with a grateful smile.
“Crap on a cracker!” Daisy squeaks. “I thought I’d thrown that out. Sorry, Rowan.” She takes the jar and tosses it into the trash, but I can see the wheels turning in her mind before I turn to wash my hands at the sink.
Landry furrows his brow. “How’d you know?—”
“Got any onions?” Rowan cuts him off. “I’m thinking I could throw some beans in with that sausage.”
