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My mom, because she finally had all her boys in her life. And me, because he'd brought Mikayla Parsons with him.

I'd taken one look at her and decided fate had finally gotten around to doing me a favor.

In the two years that followed, I'd collected enough rejections to qualify for some sort of loyalty program.

I was one more no away from asking if the next one came with a free sandwich.

But here's the thing about Mikayla.

The more I got to know her, the less it became about getting her to say yes.

She was sharp enough to cut glass, funny when she let her guard down, and fiercely loyal to the people she loved.

She could run a multinational, billion-dollar corporation before lunch and still remember my mother's birthday.

And every once in a while, when she thought nobody was looking, I'd catch something in her eyes.

Loneliness. The kind I recognized because I saw it in my own mirror. That was what kept drawing me back.

Well, that and the fact that she had the finest ass I'd ever seen.

I was evolving, not dead.

“Close your mouth, sweetheart,” Mrs. Albright said. “You're attracting flies.”

I glanced at her.

She followed my gaze and smiled knowingly.

“Ah, yes. Miss Mikayla, the pretty brunette.”

“The beautiful, brilliant, completely unreasonable brunette,” I corrected.

“Still hasn't fallen for your nonsense?” Mrs. Albright grinned in amusement.

“I'm starting to think she might be playing hard to get,” I teased.

Mrs. Jenson snorted. “Or she's just not interested.”

“Now, why would you go and ruin a perfectly good fantasy with facts?”

“Because somebody has to,” she shot back.

I lifted my beer in acknowledgment. Then I looked back at Mikayla.

She stood near the edge of the deck, talking to her cousin, the bride. Her expression was relaxed, and for one glorious second, I caught a glimpse of a smile.

One of those rare, genuine smiles that made her dimples appear.

Sweet Jesus.

A man could build a religion around those dimples. I was considering heading over to worship when a couple approached them.

Something changed. Mikayla's smile vanished. Her shoulders squared. Her chin lifted. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by that cool, unreadable expression I assumed she wore in boardrooms.

I'd seen her handle hostile executives with less tension.

The man said something.