“Are you seeing him?” I don’t expect Robert’s question or for him to be so blunt. Neither does Renee, although she only peers up from her phone and remains silent. This counter is my defense; that phone is hers. But neither will save me from this conflict.
“Seeing him is a phrase for it … I guess.” I swallow the truth down, deep down. My plan of action is simple. Brody is told first. I tell him tonight. Then the world can know and judge.
Right now, as much as I don’t like it, Robert is grouped in with the rest of the world. Even if it does make me sick to my stomach. Lies will do that. They eat you up. At least that’s what my grandmother used to say. She knew what she was talking about.
“Tonight?” Robert asks, leaning forward to get a good look at my outfit. Rose gold heels to match my earrings, and a loose navy blouse tucked into the watercolor floral skirt.
“You guessed it,” I practically answer in a singsong cadence. As if it’s not a big deal. I’ve gone out a few times on a date here and there. It never amounts to anything. It’s a polite answer to nice guys who want to take me out. I’ve never really been interested. My hands are full as it is.
This is different, though, and the tension that lies between Robert and me as he stands there across the desk waiting for me to look back at him is evidence of that.
“How do you know him?” His tone isn’t accusatory, but the comments in my head sure as hell are.
Shrugging, I try to hide my harsh swallow. “I think his friend went to school back in Delaware.”
“That it, Mags?” he asks me and when I look up at him, there’s a hurt and uneasy expression in his eyes, and I start to question if Brody told him something. If Robert knows. I want to be the one to tell him. I can’t let him find out from the rumor mill. But just as the dam breaks inside of me, Renee pipes up.
“Why’s it matter, Rob?” Renee asks. “Were you planning on asking out your old high school flame?”
A very common sigh of frustration leaves me as she chides him. He knows that she knows about our thing. She knows he knows that she knows. And they do this shit all the time pretending like neither of them knows anything about the occasional fling Robert and I have whenever Robert behaves like anything more than an ex and landlord.
Renee’s right, he doesn’t have a right to ask any questions about my dating life when he lets the world believe we’re only friends. Yet I’m choosing to sleep with him, and deep down I know I need to be honest with him if ever I were to … have a romantic relationship that led past dessert. Same goes for him too.
“I’ll let you know if it’s anything more than that,” I answer Robert sincerely before the two of them can butt heads. “For now, it’s just dinner,” I tell him and saying those words brings a pang of heartache I don’t expect. I made a promise earlier to Renee that I’d at least wait until after appetizers to say anything about Bridget. For one, he’d have to stay to pay the bill, right? So he’d be forced to at least process it for a moment. And for two, I’m going to need to eat something in order to sit upright and speak the truth.
Robert looks like he’s going to say something, his lips parted and his brow furrowed above his questioning gaze, but he doesn’t have a chance. The bell ringing above the door interrupts him and in steps the topic of conversation himself.
Wearing khakis and a light blue polo that actually matches my skirt quite nicely, I know Brody dressed up. Brown dress shoes and all. He’s still got that blue collar feel to him with the top of his hair a bit messy and rough stubble lining his strong jaw. Thump, thump, my heart races in my chest and it’s far too hot all over the place. I can’t escape the rise in temperature.
Oh my Lord. Please. Please, help me to keep on breathing. Both of these men in this gallery suddenly makes it feel oh so small. It’s suffocating.
“Hey Magnolia,” Brody greets me with a wide and charming smile. He’s so unsuspecting when he glances at Robert, offering him a smile. I can tell he’s about to walk over to where we’re standing and strike up a conversation.
Oh, heck no. No, no, no. Rushing around the side of the counter, I practically sprint out to meet him and hook my arm around his.
“I’m all set,” I say evenly although I don’t know how. I’ve never been graceful. I’ve never been … ooh, what’s the word … calm under pressure … hmm, my grandmother used to call it something but all I can think right now is that I need to get the two of them the hell away from each other as quickly as possible.
“Have fun, lovebirds,” Renee calls out and I catch Robert’s glare at her comment as I pull a questioning Brody to the door.
Robert doesn’t say goodbye and I don’t either, but he doesn’t let me leave without one more remark. “You look good, Mags.” Robert’s statement doesn’t go unnoticed by Brody, who merely lifts his left brow as my cheeks flame. It’s not until the door closes behind us that I can breathe. Even then, it’s staggered.
“He’s right, Mags,” Brody says and then rests his splayed hand at the small of my back for only a second to lean closer to me and whisper in my ear, “You look beautiful.”
Oh, my heart. My poor, dumb, ready-to-be-torn-to-shreds heart.
Brody
There wasn’t a single second I was nervous back then. The memories of the bar years ago filter in and out as I wait for Magnolia to come back to the table. I know damn well, I wasn’t ever nervous.
Maybe when I thought she was leaving me … maybe then there was an ounce of it. But as I sit here, staring between the lit candles and the double doors to the restrooms, the silver fork in my hand tapping restlessly against the white tablecloth, I’m nervous as fuck.
When the hell did I become this guy?
Running my hand down the back of my neck, I note that it’s hotter in here than it should be, or at least it feels like it is and that’s not helping any.
Morgan’s smells like melted butter and the perfect steak seasoning. Given the classic décor I saw online, I thought Magnolia was right and this place would make for the perfect first date. The pictures on my phone didn’t do it justice, though. Maybe this is too much, too classy.
I don’t know. Something just feels off.
Not trusting myself to speak since something seems to be lodged in the back of my throat, when she reenters the room and glances around, searching for where the waiter sat us, I lift a hand in the air, waiting for her doe eyes to meet mine. When they do, it all seems to calm.
Everything is normal again. Everything’s fine. Why? Because she smiles, soft and sweet and only takes her gaze away from mine to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and pretend like she’s not blushing.
My pulse slows and it’s all right. She’s here and whatever the hell came over me simmers down.
“You really do look beautiful tonight,” I say and I’m proud that it comes out as smoothly as it sounded in my head. With an asymmetric grin on my face, Magnolia lifts her gaze to mine, taking her seat in the booth across from me. I silently thank whoever’s in charge up there for not giving us chairs. I would have pulled it out for her if we were … if I wasn’t stuck right where I am, watching her practically glide in. “I’m not just trying to make you blush,” I add and she huffs a small laugh, shaking her head and looking away for just a moment.
“Compliments will get you nowhere,” she replies with a smile and a playfulness I remember. But then her eyes drop to the water goblet, where her fingers rest on the stem and her simper drops too.
“Listen,” Magnolia starts to say, a more serious tone now present in her voice, laced with something that sounds like an ending you don’t want to hear.
I’m saved by the waiter, who comes just then to ask her what she’d like to drink. He knows her by name. Everyone around here seems to know everyone by name.
Griffin wasn’t wrong about that.
“The Green Tea,” she answers and the second the waiter is gone, I don’t give her a chance to continue whatever she was going to say before.
“Gre
en tea? You don’t want a drink?” My gaze travels from my beer, the beads of condensation growing on the tall glass, and then back to her.
“The Green Tea is a cocktail,” she tells me with a smile before taking a sip of water. “With vodka.”
“Ah,” I say then lean back in my seat and nod. “That’s more like it.”
There’s a moment of quiet. It’s comfortable at first, but then just like when she sat down, her smile fades.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” Her voice cracks at the very end and I can’t stand the look in her eyes. Maybe she doesn’t notice that her hands fall to her lap and her shoulders hunch inward at whatever she thinks is so damn important. But I notice and I hate it.
“Now hold up,” I say, thinking as fast as I can on my feet, all those jitters I was feeling coming back to me. “I have a proposition.”
“A proposition?”
With a single nod, the smile is weak on her beautiful face, but it’s there, just barely.
I clear my throat when the waiter comes back. I think his name is Nathanial. Tall and lean, with dark scruffy hair but everything thing else on him is clean cut.
“Do you two need another minute?”
“Yes please,” Magnolia answers for us and I can only stare at her. Whatever’s on her mind feels like an ending. Like the last page of a story that never really had a chance.
I don’t accept it.
Before she can say whatever she was going to say with those beautiful lips parted, I make my move.
“Pretend it’s all new. Would you tell someone you just met whatever you’re about to tell me? Like it’s okay for first date conversation?”
“But you aren’t someone I just met,” she says insistently. Her small hands come back to rest on top of the table as she squares her shoulders, dead set on telling me whatever it is that’s on her mind.
“Look,” I say, cutting her off before she can speak again. “I want a chance, Magnolia.” I don’t know why I’m begging her. I question my own sanity. There’s just something about her. There always was. And I see how she smiles when she looks at me. That has to mean something. “All I want is an honest chance. I’m a different guy than I was back then and there are things you don’t know about me. Just get to know me, give me a shot before you say whatever you’re about to say.”
“How do you know what I’m going to say is bad?” Magnolia asks me, but she can’t even look me in the eye. Instead she lifts the menu on the table and stares at it. The one with the chef’s specials for the evening.
“Because it takes your smile away … Because you look like you’re going to tell me no.”
With a gentle shake of her head, the loose curls sway slightly as she says, “It’s not a no.”
“But it’s not an honest shot.”
She doesn’t deny my statement. A moment passes and Nathanial comes back with her drink and then takes out his pen and paper. Before Magnolia can ask for more time, I order. Appetizer included. Which gets a mumble of something from Magnolia, but I don’t make out exactly what she says.
She follows my lead, ordering the item on the menu I was kicking around getting, but I decided on the ribeye instead. The second he’s gone, Magnolia glances at me, really debating something.
Setting the menu down, Magnolia leans forward, her forearms braced on the table, looking all types of businesswoman as she stares at me.
“All you want is a chance but you don’t know what you’re getting a chance at,” she finally says.
“Then tell me about yourself. Tell me what I’ve missed. And I’ll tell you the same. Just don’t shut me out before it’s even started. Because the way you look at me, it’s like you have something that’s going to end this thing. And we haven’t even gotten started.”
My plea is just that. Griffin would laugh his ass off if he saw how much this woman had me by the balls. Shit, any grown-ass man would. That weekend Griffin called me up to watch his place … I know he did it because I needed to get away. And there she was, the distraction I needed.
A second passes and then another. She takes a sip of her drink and leans back in her seat.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t remember much from that night, other than I really felt good next to you. I remember laughing and I remember kissing you and everything after,” she reminisces with a softness to her voice, like she longs to go back. “So tell me everything, Brody. You tell me first and then I’ll tell you.”
“Back and forth. Tit for tat,” I say.
“Tit for tat,” she agrees, taking another sip.
“I came here because I wanted to sail,” I offer up first. Sailing is something I did with my grandfather. I leave that part out. I know eventually I’ll tell her, because he’s why I was there all those nights ago at the bar. She doesn’t know it, but she saved me that night. I’ll tell her, though. I’m saving it for whenever she tells me what she thinks is so damning.
“You sail?” The pep in her voice makes me grin. With a nod I tell her I love it.
“I do too.” Her response comes complete with a little wiggle in her seat as she seems to settle back. “I’ve always lived here. Except for when I was in college, of course.” She stirs her drink as she adds, “So I’ve been sailing more times than I can count.”
“Same … well, not about living here.” I guess she likes the way I add in the correction because she laughs and leans in, ready for more. The conversation is easy, the atmosphere gentle and coaxing. Any tension that was present before vanishes. She kept her word, giving me my chance.
“I’m going sailing this weekend. Come with me,” I say, inviting her with all the confidence I have and that requires a sip of beer and then another as she hesitates to answer.
“Sail away with you?” She laughs softly into her drink and the waiter comes back just then. Nathanial asks if she’d like another drink.
I know I have her when she nods a yes.
“My buddy Griffin is coming, but it’s just us. Soaking up some sun and maybe taking a dip.”
“Mm-hmm.” Magnolia’s attention leaves me as a rectangular plate of bruschetta is placed in front of us.
She’s more than eager to take a piece and I join in. The crunch of the toasted bread and drizzle of balsamic is addictive.
“Good, right?” she says and grins around the last bit from her small piece, then pops it in her mouth.
Something about her smile, about the way she licks the tip of her finger afterward has my cock twitching in my jeans. She makes me feel like I’m in high school all over again. Like I’m some puppy dog she already has on a leash.
“Damn good,” I respond and let my gaze fall a little south of her chin. Her laugh brings a wide smile to my lips and she pretends like she’s going to toss her napkin at me.
This is exactly what I remember from that night. Not the conversation, but the feeling that stirs inside of me.
I wanted her, and she wanted me. That’s really all there was to it. With a soft hum and her posture more at ease, I give her a compliment, telling her, “I like your hair that way.”
She brightens and with the way her hand twitches, I bet she’d have touched her hair to help her remember how she did it if she wasn’t so self-conscious.
“Sun-kissed, I mean. It suits you.” The blush on her cheeks is sweet and it makes me smile.
“There’s a little more sun down here than up north, huh?” I love that hint of a Southern accent in her voice.
“That’s not the only reason I like it down here,” I say, letting my voice drop and wink at her.
“Stop,” she says and blushes again, more vibrant and bashful.
“There’s also sailing. Don’t forget,” I add, toying with her still and she outright playfully smacks me. The sense of ease is settling between us and everything is feeling more right than it has before now.
“Just kidding,” I tell her and snag another piece of bruschetta.
As she laughs, I’m drawn back to that moment yea
rs ago, when she fell into my arms and then into bed with me. So many nights I’ve dreamed of those soft sounds that slipped from her lips back then.
Before I can get too lost in the memory, she carries on the conversation after taking another bite of the bruschetta.
“How’d you guys meet?”
“Me and Griffin?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question about coming sailing with me. You could bring Renee,” I offer to sweeten the deal.
She laughs, but still doesn’t answer. Her legs sway slightly and she seems to contemplate it.
“I’m pretty damn good at sailing,” I tell her. “Promise I won’t crash.”
Although that gets me another laugh, she asks another question, rather than answering. “When’s the last time you went?”
“It’s been a bit.”
“How long’s a bit?”
“Too long. I’ve been really busy. Probably two years now. And the last time was the only time that year.”
“And you’re sure you won’t crash?” Yet again she follows up with another question, but judging by her tone, I’m almost certain she’s going to say yes.
“Cross my heart, I won’t crash.”
With a shy smile and not an ounce of that tension she had when she first sat down, she agrees to another date. “All right then. Sailing sounds like it could be fun.”
My grin is genuine and inwardly I pump my fist in the air. It’s a win. Another chance to show her who I am and find out more about this girl, the enigma that she is.
The rest of the night is just as relaxed. It’s almost like two friends who lost touch catching up. Although the small touches and the way she blushes certainly aren’t reserved for friendship. There’s a desire, a sense of want, and I feel it too. Just like the first time I met her.
The only thing I’d change if I could would be the way she dodged the goodnight kiss. Instead she left me hanging with a feminine chuckle before telling me she’d see me Sunday for sailing, reminding me that I’m not allowed to crash.
Tequila Rose Page 8