I ignored the slight twinge of jealousy at that thought. I did not want to go out on a date with Nate. I did not want to be jealous of him finding romance with someone else. I might feel a twinge of jealousy, but that didn’t make it real. It was probably indigestion.
“I still can’t believe you set us up and lied to both of us.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” Paris said quickly.
“It sure as hell felt like one,” I argued.
“It wasn’t,” Hazel said. “Nate needs to get out, too. I think the brothers are starting to feel sorry for him. Mostly because he’s always been the most connected of the bunch to women and their feelings.”
I froze, wondering what she meant by that. “Excuse me?” I asked.
Once again, Hazel studied me, giving me a weird look. “He’s Arden’s twin. He’s always understood her differently. Better. At least, that’s what Cross told me. And from what I’ve seen when they interact, he’s always understood women a bit more than the rest of them. They’ve all said so, too.”
I had fallen for that, hadn’t I? The lure of how he seemed to understand everything that I was thinking. Even if it had been a lie. If he had truly understood me, he wouldn’t have said the words he did.
I let out a breath. “Okay, who’s next?”
“You sound eager all of a sudden.”
I ignored the curiosity in Paris’s words.
“Let’s get it over with,” I said.
“Now that’s the Myra we know and love.”
I was ready for my next step. Because the more I tried, the farther away I could get from Nate. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
“Brian, what is it that you do again?” I asked, looking across the table at the man in front of me. I took a sip of my club soda and lime, wishing it was wine. But I planned to have a glass of wine with dinner, so I didn’t want more than one while out with a person I had never met before.
Everything was a bit scary because I was on a date with a stranger.
I hadn’t thought too much about it before during my dinner with Nate. But now that I knew I would never be on a date with him again, any sense of familiarity was gone.
“I work with Paris. You know that,” he said, smiling at me with his perfectly white teeth, his eyes a delicate hazel. At least he had kept his gaze above my chest line. I’d put that in the plus column. Most men couldn’t keep their eyes off my ass or my tits. Yes, I had curves, but I didn’t want the world to look at only them.
“Oh, I know. But I know she and Prior do completely different things even when they work on the same projects. I just wanted to know what you did.”
He smiled again, perfectly pleasant.
He was pleasant. He had a friendly, soothing tone. He didn’t stare too long or venture onto any topics that could become perilous.
He was entirely sensible.
And I was bored out of my mind.
For all I knew, it was me. Brian would probably have a great time with anybody else. He’d likely laugh it up, tell jokes, and give the girl tingles to the point where she’d want to crawl across the table and rip his tie right off his body.
That was not going to happen with me.
Maybe it was me. Perhaps I was the dud and not the man in front of me.
But as he began droning on about programming in a monotone, I was terrified that maybe it was both of us.
I didn’t know what had happened. I used to be good at dating. Not only before Nate but also after him. I had never been one to shy away from or hide from the opposite sex. If I wanted to go out on a date, I did. Men asked me out all the time.
Or rather, they used to. Now, guys hit on me awkwardly or made me feel like they didn’t want to get too close because I was the icy bitch queen.
I had to stop that.
I needed to be more personable.
But right now, I was genuinely bored.
And I hated it.
“That’s so interesting,” I said as Brian finished his explanation.
He smiled softly and shook his head. “It’s not. My job is tedious, but I love it.”
That made me pause. “You can love what you do and still find it tedious?” I asked, confused. I didn’t like to do boring things. I did the tasks I needed to do that weren’t the most energetic or interesting. Yet I didn’t know if I could ever do those tasks for my livelihood. I had walked away from the things that had been set out in front of me and had found true joy even if I was having problems with my current project.
“I don’t know if I’m saying it quite right,” Brian began. “I enjoy what I do. But I know that not everybody does. I love playing with numbers and trying to find answers. But at the end of the day, I have to look at a specific number and decide if that is the right one or not compared to all the other ones next to it.”
“That can be fun, I guess. It’s like a puzzle.”
He smiled, and once again looked perfectly pleasant. Why couldn’t I have feelings for him? “A monotonous one, according to most people. But that’s fine by me. I enjoy making the mundane fun.”
That made me smile. It didn’t sound boring.
“And after a long day of that, coming home to my stamp collection is what makes my days. That and puzzles. You were right. I do like puzzles.”
I held back a groan. I liked puzzles, too. But I didn’t sound that enthusiastic when I talked about them.
Dinner came, and we enjoyed a satisfying meal—me a light pasta dish with capers and other seasonings. He ordered buttered noodles and chicken without salt. I wasn’t even sure there was any seasoning in the butter.
Brian was bland. Completely dull. And so was his meal.
I wondered what would happen if I shook the pepper at him. Would he sneeze, or would he run away in fear?
I inwardly groaned. I was back to being the icy bitch queen again, if only in my thoughts.
We talked about nothing in particular, and I smiled, trying to sound interested. But I wasn’t. And I hated myself a little bit.
After dinner, we split the check, and it just reminded me of Nate, and what I had told him. The fact that I hadn’t let Brian pay because it hadn’t felt like a real date should have grated. Instead, I only thought of my ex.
And I did not like that. I didn’t like that Nathan was always on my mind.
“I wanted to say thank you,” Brian said, his hands behind his back as he nodded at me.
“No, thank you for a wonderful night,” I added.
“I appreciate you dealing with Boring Brian,” he added dryly.
I blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“I know the nicknames I’ve been given my entire life. I am boring, but as I said, I like what I do. So, thank you for sticking with me the whole night and being pleasant and wonderful. But I think we both know this isn’t going to work out for us. You need someone and something a little spicier. And I need the same.”
He gave me a nod before walking away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had attacked me.
He needed spicier? He didn’t even like spice on his food. Wait, did that mean I was bland, too? Did he not want two lackluster people alone in the same room?
I let out a slight growl, grateful that he couldn’t hear me.
Would that spice him up?
I went to my car, threw my bag onto the passenger seat and then winced because it was a lovely bag, and I didn’t want to scratch the leather. When I turned on the engine, I did my best not to peel out of the parking lot. Would a sad person speed out of the parking lot in a very nice Audi?
Only if they were trying to make a point.
“What is wrong with me?” I muttered.
I made my way home, annoyed with myself. I was not bland. I was in a blind date pact with three of my friends. Unexciting people didn’t do things like that. But maybe if I hadn’t been mundane to begin with, it wouldn’t have been necessary. Perhaps I would have been able to find somebody without needing help. Clear
ly, I was the problem. I hadn’t been pushing people away for my entire life—they were running away.
When I got home, I slid off my shoes but kept the dress on. It was a slightly more demure outfit than the one I had worn for Nate. No. The one that I had worn for myself on a date that ended up being with Nate. There was a difference.
I went to my wine fridge, pulled out a bottle, and poured myself an enormous glass. I was halfway done with it when I got a text from Dakota.
Dakota: Did I leave my Tupperware for the cupcakes at your place?
Me: Yes, do you need it? I can drop it off.
Dakota: No, you’re on your date. I’m sorry.
Dakota: Wait. You’re on your date. Why are you answering your texts?
Me: Brian was a dud. And so am I. Do you need me to drop off the Tupperware?
I looked at my glass of wine and figured if I stopped now, I could still drive. Or Uber over there and back.
Dakota: No, I can send someone for it. Thank you so much. And we’ll get you another date. I’m sorry!
She sent a bunch of heart emojis, and I sighed, setting my phone down on the counter. I took another sip of my wine and wondered how I was doing this.
When had it gotten this bad?
Sure, it had been a long time since I had found true happiness or even some semblance of it. But I wasn’t dull. I wasn’t a dud. Or maybe I was. The fact that I couldn’t tell anymore was further evidence that I was completely lost.
I pulled out Dakota’s Tupperware and set it next to the front door, waiting for Macon to pick it up. I knew Dakota had an outing the next day for Joshua’s class, and I felt terrible that I had kept the cupcake container. I should have dropped it off before now. But I had forgotten, too lost in my memories and work.
The doorbell rang, and I took another sip of my wine, walking over to the front door to let Macon in.
But when I opened it, it wasn’t Macon.
No, it was him.
“Hey, there,” Nate said, sticking his hands into his pockets. “I was over mooching dinner when Dakota said that she needed this ASAP for Joshua’s class. So, I figured I’d pick it up for her as payment for the meal.”
“Oh. I didn’t know it’d be you.”
His gaze raked over me, and I ignored the answering chill.
Why couldn’t Brian do that for me? Why hadn’t a single look from my date given me any type of feeling like Nate gave me now?
And the shudder wasn’t revulsion. It should be. But, no, he made me feel sexy, like a woman. As if I were wanted.
And I hated him for it.
“Here you go,” I said, handing over the Tupperware. “Tell Dakota I’m sorry for keeping it so long.”
“She said she left it. It wasn’t like you were holding it hostage.” He paused and then cleared his throat. “How was your date?”
I narrowed my eyes at him and then did my best to count to ten. We had a truce, after all. “It was fine. I’m home now. But you never know about date two.”
He raised a single brow. “Sounds like fun.”
“Anyway, thanks for picking this up for her. I’m about to chug the rest of this wine, so driving probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m not going to talk about my date with you, Nate.” For multiple reasons.
“Understood. I don’t think it’s a good idea either. I am sorry it didn’t go well, though. And I’m only guessing it didn’t because of the wine.”
I didn’t know why he had added that part, but for some reason, I was grateful he had. Maybe the wine was getting to me. We stood there staring at each other awkwardly for a few minutes until he cleared his throat.
“Anyway, I should get this back to her. You look good, Myra.”
Surprised, I nearly took a step back. “Oh. Thank you. I tried.”
“You never really have to,” he whispered. His voice was so low, I wasn’t even sure I had heard him. But when he turned on his heel and walked away, I could only stand there blinking, wondering if maybe it was the wine.
Because Nate couldn’t have said that.
Did I want him to?
Chapter 4
Nate
* * *
I rubbed my temples and then opened another browser to search a word. I loved my job, I did, but there were only so many days I could spend staring at a screen without wanting to scratch my eyes out. I was a freelance copywriter, but I still had a boss for part of my work because a big publisher employed me. And since I wanted to keep on their payroll because they were my highest paying client, I had to work on this deadline, even if I was past the number of hours they had agreed to.
Though maybe I wasn’t paying attention enough. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the project in front of me. No, it likely had to do with my inability to concentrate on anything but seeing Myra alone, drinking wine while wearing that dress of hers.
It hadn’t showcased as many of her curves or shown as much cleavage as the other dress she had worn, but this one had been a little clingier, made her look a little softer.
And yet, the idea that I knew she had sexy-as-fuck curves under that dress and was hiding it made it even hotter somehow.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I finished looking up the word and took a few notes. I was done for the day. I put away my work and figured I would wrap it up. I’d have to do a few pages over the weekend, but that was fine. I usually worked, if only for a few hours.
My job paid well, and the settlement I’d gotten from the accident had given me a decent savings account so I didn’t have to worry about my house or my bills. But if I wanted to grow my retirement or pay for medical insurance or have money to go out with my family and friends, I needed to work.
I put away my computer and got up from my chair, rolling my shoulders back. I worked strategically in different places around the house, but never in my bedroom. I remembered my mom saying that I was never allowed to do homework in bed. I always thought it was a weird thing, but she explained that the more we studied or worked in bed, the harder it became to fall asleep because it stopped being our safe place to relax.
I completely understood that now. And while I knew that my sister, Arden, occasionally worked from bed because of her lupus, I tried not to do it. That meant I had comfy chairs with lumbar support in every room, so I never got bored. It was the little things in life. And maybe if I kept thinking about chairs and backaches, I wouldn’t think about Myra and that dress.
She was dating. Hell, I was dating. I had gone out thanks to my brothers, and it wasn’t my fault that the date had ended up being with Myra. So what if she wasn’t the person I had been expecting? That didn’t mean I needed to focus on that. Right?
She was allowed to date whoever she wanted, and I was allowed to do the same with whoever I felt like being with. After all, she had likely been with plenty of men while we were apart.
I grumbled at that thought. But hell, I had been with several women since, too. I’d even had a serious girlfriend since Myra. So, fuck that. I didn’t need to get jealous. Sure, she was hot. She always had been, and she still was. Good for her.
That didn’t mean I had to want her. I was so tangled up in that, I feared I would give myself another headache.
I went to the kitchen and got myself one of my reusable water bottles and chugged a third of it before my doorbell rang. I frowned, looked at the clock, and then went over to open the door.
My family stood on the other side: Arden, Prior, Macon, and Cross. If my parents weren’t living out of state, they probably would have been there, as well.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked dryly as I stepped back, not bothering to invite them in. They would come in on their own anyway. That’s what family did. And I was exactly like them.
“We just wanted to see how you were doing,” Arden said, rising to her tiptoes to kiss my jaw. I hugged her tightly, laying a kiss on the top of her head and making sure my
twin went right to the couch to sit down. She’d had a rough go of it last week, and though I knew she was fine and hadn’t been admitted to the hospital for kidney issues, it had come close.
Lupus was no joke, and I hated that she had to deal with her health daily when I didn’t. Yes, I had some issues thanks to the accident, but it was nowhere near my sister’s struggles. She was my twin, and I hated that I couldn’t take her pain away.
“You’re giving me that look again. Stop feeling bad. I’m doing great. You know Liam wouldn’t let me out of the house if I weren’t having a good day.”
I snorted at the thought of my brother-in-law. “You know, you’re right. I kind of like him these days.”
“You’re only saying that because he’s on your side right now. If you were thinking about him and his precious baby sister, you wouldn’t.”
I scowled, and the rest of my brothers started groaning about something or other. “There, I don’t like him anymore.” I laughed.
“I see you’re not working since your laptop is stowed. That means I can rummage through your fridge for something to eat,” Prior said, rubbing his hands together.
“What the hell?” I asked, laughing. “Why didn’t you guys just bring snacks if you wanted to eat while you were here doing…whatever it is you’re doing?”
Prior grinned. “We could have, but it’s better to eat your snacks.”
I heard barking from the other room, and I grinned and went over to where Daisy was currently on her back paws, trying to get out of the octagon gate I had put up for her. She was still a puppy, and we had played hard earlier. Plus, she had gone for a long walk. Leash training was no joke. She was part Golden Retriever, part something else, though the vet I had talked to thought it was some kind of Collie. Macon and I agreed. I didn’t care. All I knew was that I was in love with my puppy.
“I was going to ask where our favorite niece is.” Macon pushed me out of the way and picked up Daisy, cradling her in his arms.
“I thought that was my puppy,” I said, a little hurt.
From Our First: A Promise Me Novel Page 4