“You sure? Because either youdidbring mystery girl with you, or you’re officially so lonely that you’re flirting with everyone.”
I send a glare over my shoulder. “I’m not lonely.”
“So itwasmystery girl.”
I drop way too much cheese on my salad. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t plan it that way. She just happened to be there.”
I canfeelLucas’s surprise. “So she just so happens to work with foster dogs? Where did you find this girl again?”
There’s not a chance I’m telling him the truth. Not yet. Not when it’s still so delicate.
“It was just some random dating app,” I lie.
I hear his sigh from behind me, followed by the rustle of him standing from my couch.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he says as he stops beside me. “I am actually capable of cutting the teasing for a few minutes.” When I don’t respond, he sighs again. “Or at least talk to Alexander. I know he’s not a wordsmith, but—” I snort at the understatement. “You know he’ll listen. And be honest.”
My shoulders droop, all tension and fight going out of me in an instant. Iwantto tell my brothers. I want to confide in them about how much I like this girl, and how confusing it all is. That even though I still feel a little restless from all the uncertainty, somehow, she makes me feel more grounded. Less worried about my future and more comfortable in the present.
“I will,” I finally say. “I’m just not ready yet. But I will.”
Lucas must know I’m telling the truth because he nods and claps me on the back. “Alright, good. And if I can help with fight camp, if I can take some stress off somehow, just say the word.”
I manage a grateful nod. “Sounds good. And…thanks.”
He waves me off. “Yeah, whatever.” And then he steals a giant handful of dried cranberries and starts to pop them in his mouth.
I glare at him again. “I was just about to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner. Now I don’t want to.”
“Oh, shut up. You know you have two more giant bags of those things hidden in this kitchen somewhere. Little weirdo. Whatisit with you and cranberries?”
I slap his hand away when he tries to take another handful. “They’re delicious. Now get your dirty, money-grubbing fingers out of the salad and set the table.”
“Hey, these money-grubbing fingers are about to pay way too much money to DoorDash some Isgro’s pastries for your weekly cheat meal.”
I turn to him with a frown. “Isgro’s closes at two and isn’t available through DoorDash. How are you going to manage that?”
He just winks as he pulls two plates from the cabinets. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”
My next date with Scarlett starts at the hotel.
I meant it when I told her no more hotels, though. No more sex, either. But I don’t have her number and still need to go through the agency, and I realized when I called them that they might not like the idea of the kind of date I’m planning.
Hell, she might not either. But I’m willing to try.
I hear a knock on the door at exactly seven o’clock. I swing it open with a grin I couldn’t control even if I wanted to.
She looks stunning. Same way she always does. She’s wearing a light blue dress with long sleeves, some kind of strappy blacksandals, and her blonde hair is pinned up with a clip. Plus, a red lip, of course.
It takes me a second to realize it’s not what I asked her to wear.
I’d never tell a woman what to wear. But this is a unique instance. One of the questions the agency asks is if I have any preferences for my date’s outfit, and since I couldn’t talk to her directly, I made a request. Solely because I know what she normally shows up in, and I have different plans for tonight.
“You’re not wearing jeans,” is what comes out of my mouth. Instantly, my cheeks heat. “I mean, you look beautiful.”
She seems amused at the sight of me tongue-tied. Stepping into the room, she asks, “Do I look like I own jeans?”
She doesn’t own jeans?
