I roll my eyes so hard I nearly sprain something. If they start chest-thumping, and sizing each other up, I’m leaving.
Lola and Logan hang out nearby. He leans back in his chair. He gives Greg a nod that carries the weight of a silent warning and a silent welcome at the same time. I’d expect no less from my former roommates and friends. Greg returns it without looking threatened, which is silently attractive.
“Darbs. Get your butt over here. Make a plate before the men inhale everything,” Maggie says.
Greg watches it all with a look that keeps shifting between amusement and disbelief. I can almost see him trying to figure out how our group operates, who’s in charge, who’s the live wire. Me. Of course.
We settle in, and it’s easy—too easy. And my friends, for all their teasing, don’t poke him. But it doesn’t stop the guys from ribbing me about finally bringing a date, or the odds they had on how long I’d stay single. It stings a little, but I’d worry more if they treated me with kid gloves.
The truth is, they’ll get bored with the teasing and move on to something else soon enough. I should warn Greg that they’ll probably be coming for him. I give it a couple of weeks.
Things move so easily throughout the evening that I should feel settled.
Instead, I catch Greg watching me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. It isn’t the hungry look from last night. It’s quieter. Measured. Like he’s trying to solve a problem or find the answer to a question.
“What?” I ask, because I can’t keep my intrusive thoughts to myself.
He hesitates. “Nothing.”
“Don’t believe that for a second,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Tell me.”
His gaze holds mine. “You look… happy.”
“I am happy,” I say, but my voice comes out sharp, stretched thin, an octave higher than usual. “I’m always happy. I’m the happy-go-lucky one of the bunch.”
He nods once, slow. “Like you were at the potting party?”
The comment slides under my ribs. My throat tightens more. I don’t like being seen that clearly, especially by someone who’s seen me naked.
“That was different,” I say, trying to warn him off without making it obvious. “I was having an off day. But you changed all that.”
He leans closer, voice low enough it disappears into the noise. “Just an observation. I’m trying to figure out where I fit.”
I’ve spent so many years pretending I don’t need anyone, yet wanting someone to call mine, that admitting it now feels childish. He said he wanted to be a couple after our first night together. I want that, too, but honestly saying it aloud feels like I’m handing someone the keys to a house I’ve been guarding alone.
I swallow and keep my eyes on him. “You fit right here.”
His jaw flexes. “Right here because you want me here… or because you don’t want to be the only one alone?”
The question pokes the old bruise still healing in my heart. I could laugh it off. Make a joke. Toss something flirty at him like a smoke bomb and escape. But the man’s perceptive. If he weren’t here, I’d be the only single in the group.
“I’ve been alone for a long time. And yeah, it’s gotten me down, especially recently. My two best friends found their soulmates, one with my perfect brother, and I kind of felt left out.” My chest tightens, heart hammering so hard my ribs hurt. Heat crawls up my neck. I’m embarrassed at how I let things get to me, but my feelings are valid. Whew, this grownup stuff isn’t for the faint of heart. “I felt broken, like there was somethingwrong with me. But I realize now, I was just waiting for someone that didn’t feel like a dumpster fire.”
His eyes hold mine, and my nervous temp rises a few degrees.
“Because I’m the only dumpster fire around here. There can only be one per couple.” Again making a joke at my own expense. Damn intrusive thoughts.
His breath shifts, and his gaze softens. “Don’t say that about yourself. Not everyone blooms at the same time, remember?” He strokes along my temple and curls a strand of hair behind my ear.
I smirk, making the connection. “You sweet talker, you.”
Grey’s voice cuts across the patio. “Darby Rose Hale.” My stomach falters. “Did you eat the last taco?”
Greg cocks an eyebrow. “Rose?”
The patio goes quiet for half a beat, like our parents walked in to break up the party.
I glare at my brother. “You’re dead.”
