Understanding that he’d seen the kiss settled heavily in Brisa’s mind, but she wasn’t sure why it mattered. It had to be a good thing, another sign that they belonged with different people. A fake engagement would cement that division.
Why didn’t having that obstacle between them make her feel better? She knew her relationship with Reggie was for show, but Wade didn’t. His expression was friendly, but she could read the long day in the slump of his shoulders.
Since she understood well how hard it was to move into a new place, Brisa waved off his thanks. “I’m glad I could help.” A hard thump reminded her that Sean was performing a delicate maneuver with her television all alone. She pointed over her shoulder. “Come inside?”
Wade followed her up the stairs.
In the living room, Brisa realized she was watching him closely. Too closely. Closely enough that she could see fatigue around his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping, and something else. Worry, maybe.
If she’d had to guess, she would have assumed someone like Wade McNally strode through life confident in every situation. Was she wrong?
“Sean, have you met Wade?” Brisa asked. “Sean works here at Concord Court, keeping the place up and running. He’s also the creator of the rescue-therapy dog project here. Oh, and he’s dating Reyna.”
Sean held the TV awkwardly. “I would shake your hand, since Brisa chose this second to make introductions, but, uh...”
“Let me help.” Wade shrugged out of his coat and moved over to where Sean was mounting the television. Neither one of them said a word, but the operation was seamless. Reyna joined them.
When the television was up, the remote control had been tested and all the connections to her collected electronics were set, Sean sighed with relief. “Nice to meet you, Wade. As I understand it, you’ve had an impressive career, and Miami is lucky to have gotten you. Luis expounded at great length on what your presence here could do for Concord Court.” He held out his hand.
Wade shook it. “Luis Montero is either the world’s greatest hype man or he needs more to concentrate on.”
“Why not both,” Reyna said cheerfully. “I’m happy to share the limelight.” Then she patted Wade’s shoulder. “A man who steps up to help, Brisa. Did you notice?”
At Wade’s raised eyebrow, Brisa huffed out a sigh. “Reggie would have done the same thing if we’d asked. He needs a nudge, that’s all.” Always. Reggie also needed a nudge to drag his attention away from his phone and his deals and promoting his image.
Her sister’s harrumph had to be ignored because she didn’t want to get into a sister discussion with an audience, and she was so close to food.
“Oh, is Reggie the bachelor you’re setting up?” Reyna asked as she clapped with excitement. “Because that is a fun game I want to play.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Not through Military Match, though.”
“Military Match...” Wade repeated. With horror, Brisa watched her sister tilt her head and study Wade carefully. The slow smile that spread across Reyna’s face was confirmation. Unless Brisa could find a convincing story, Reyna knew that Wade was the bachelor she was helping.
And if Brisa wasn’t careful, Reyna would keep pulling at the string until she unraveled the whole story.
“We were about to head out, Wade.” Brisa tried to make a clever, sneaky motion at the door that shouted, Make a run for it and I’ll distract her, but it was a lot to ask a single head motion to convey.
“Have you eaten? Come with us. Sean introduced us to this hole-in-the-wall seafood place. They have cold beer and good shrimp.” Reyna brushed her hand across Brisa’s shoulders. “And Brisa will finally blend in for once.”
Brisa’s eyes met Wade’s, but she wasn’t sure what message she wanted to send.
If he said no, she stood a better chance of throwing her sister off the hunt with...something. She’d figure out the rest of it on the drive.
But he was tired. Worried. And alone.
Why she wanted him to say yes should be examined. Later.
Wade held out both arms. “Am I overdressed?”
Sean nodded. “Yep, but if you don’t mind being hit on by every barfly in the place, I wouldn’t say it’s a problem. Honestly, I should put on a tie and head down there myself.”
Reyna narrowed her eyes. “Oh?”
“There it is. My favorite expression.” Sean stepped up to her and kissed her lips. “Unforgettable.”
They both laughed. Brisa and Wade rolled their eyes. Couples with inside jokes. What could be any grosser than that?
Reyna jingled her keys. “I can drive. Brisa is dying. She needs food.” Her voice was a bratty imitation of Brisa’s, and Brisa had a flash of all the times she’d been desperate to have her sister home. Why was that, again? It was hard to remember.
Wade bent to whisper in her ear, “When they step outside, slam the door and lock it. We’ll order a pizza for the two of us.”
It was sexy and sweet, and the two of them sharing their own inside joke.
Brisa had to close her eyes and shake her head. The temptation was real.
“It’s good food. Don’t worry, we’ll ditch them after.” Then she reached for his hand and pulled him out the door.
CHAPTER NINE
WADE WASN’T SURE about Surf and Turf when Reyna parked in front of the place. A long weathered boardwalk leading up three flights of stairs to what appeared to be a mix of a biker bar and a deserted shanty. It sat out on a pier over marsh with hanging mangroves. The closest neighbors were expansive nursery farms and...nothing else. Streetlights didn’t make it out that far, and it was hard to find where dark land met dark water.
Because it was dark.
The drive had reminded Wade of locations on TV shows where the bad guys lure cops in order to double-cross them and hide their bodies. The road was bare, making it so easy to imagine a collection of Florida’s natural predators might be perched beyond the headlights.
There was no traffic ahead of them or behind them.
But the parking lot was full.
Surf and Turf was off the beaten path. It was almost off the map completely.
The fact that business was still booming suggested this was one of those places only locals knew.
And that the food was worth the adventure.
Wade was glad to have the escort. If he’d decided to make the drive himself, he would have turned around at the first creeped out shiver that went down his back. He still might. He could climb back into the car and wait for whatever fate befell the rest of the party. Staying up late to watch old news stories about the number of boa constrictors and pythons slithering around South Florida had been a bad idea. Yes, Thea would think it was cool when he told her about it. But finding one in the dark out here? Less cool.
“You still back there?” Sean called out over his shoulder as he and the others trotted up the flight of steps leading to the gray, weathered building with neon signs advertising cheap beer and good food. “Did a gator get you?”
Brisa glanced over her shoulder. “Ignore him. You’re safe.”
“Oh, good. No gators? I keep hearing plops that make me wonder,” Wade muttered as he took the final step. He wasn’t sure what noise gators made just before they had dinner, but the plops had sounded...large.
“No, there are definitely gators, but it’s the snakes that creep me out.” Brisa grimaced. “If you come during the daylight, you’ll see them. They’re well-fed so they don’t present much of a problem.”
Much of a problem. Wade froze as he evaluated that. It wasn’t exactly reassuring.
Neither was the way Brisa’s lips twitched. Was she joking...or not?
Sean pulled open the door and motioned a group of five women out. “Ladies, y’all have a nice evening.”
Every one of them had spent time in the salon having her hair set an
d styled into fluffy curls that week, and their outfits fell into a pastel range of comfort wear.
Not bikers.
Not tourists.
Grandmothers in the mood for cheap beer and tasty fish tacos, apparently.
And not too scared of Florida’s reptile population to chance dinner at Surf and Turf.
Wade had spent more time than he wanted to remember in bars all over the world. Some of the memories were hazy, thanks to too much whiskey, but the places were usually dark and loud. So was Surf and Turf, but it was also different.
The woman propped up against the podium straightened as soon as Sean stepped inside. She would have fit in most of the dive bars Wade had visited. She wore black head to toe, T-shirt, jeans, boots. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a severe knot that left impressive ears exposed, and the lines on her face had probably been made from smoking too much and staring into the sun.
But her welcoming grin was pure brilliance. “Sunshine, I ain’t seen you in weeks now. Your grandmother been keeping you busy? What’s Mimi got you doing?” She pressed a kiss to Sean’s cheek, wiped the smudge of bright pink lipstick off his cheek and led them through the large crowded room cluttered with tables. When she made it to the back corner, she pointed. “Sit. I’ll bring y’all your usual.” Then she pinned Wade with a hard stare, and he realized he was holding her up.
The line of her eyebrows suggested slowing her down was a big mistake.
In a hurry, Wade slid into the booth next to Brisa and checked for a menu.
Until he noticed everyone was watching him.
“It’s real simple, 401(k). Surf or turf. Them’s the choices.” The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t give me no trouble with any special requests, you hear.”
Reminded of the ominous plops that might or might not be alligators outside, Wade nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll have surf. Please.” He tried a smile. “Thank you.”
“And a beer.” She nodded.
“Actually, Cookie, I’ve been telling him about the power of your sweet tea. That stuff would sweeten up any bad day. We’ll both take a shot of sugar, please.” Brisa grabbed his hand under the table.
Wade wanted to explain that it didn’t bother him to have to explain to every person he met that he was sober. Had to be sober. It had become such a habit that he couldn’t let it slow him down.
Her eagerness killed the response. Brisa was trying to help him. She’d cared enough to remember their first meeting and step in to smooth over any awkwardness.
Wade met her stare and then nodded. He hated sweet tea, but he’d drink it happily to see her face light up with pride and concern, all for him.
The woman swept the table with a careful gaze before shrugging. “Sweet tea? Fine by me, Cover Girl.”
When Legs was out of earshot, Wade heaved a deep breath and reached down to roll up his sleeves. “Is it hot in here?” Nerves had turned up his temperature.
“Cookie has got a good bluff. Making men sweat is one of her favorite pastimes. You did fine,” Reyna said. They all straightened as their waitress slid drinks into the center of the table and disappeared before anyone could acknowledge her.
“It gets easier when you’re part of the family, like Sunshine here.” Brisa handed Wade a tea and nodded at Sean.
“What can I say? My grandmother brought me the first time. I never looked back.” Sean sipped his beer. “That’s Mimi. She makes friends wherever she goes...” Sean nodded.
“The food here is great, Wade. The nicknames...” Reyna wrinkled her nose.
“So, is Cookie her nickname...or her real name?” Wade asked.
“Nobody knows for sure.” Sean gestured helplessly.
“Sean is Sunshine.” Wade turned to Brisa. “And you’re Cover Girl. I get that.” She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. It made sense that her nickname would call that out.
He turned his icy cold glass in a circle. “401(k)?” He flipped his tie. “I guess the nickname could be worse, but I should have mentioned I’m a doctor, so she would have given me something like Scalpel or Bone Saw... You know, a surgeon’s tool with an edge would have been cool.”
When everyone laughed, Wade realized he hadn’t heard Reyna’s nickname. He studied Brisa’s sister across the table and tried to imagine the positions reversed, he and Reyna the couple while Sean and Brisa watched. The picture wouldn’t form. Reyna and Sean had to be a couple, even the way they moved was in sync. Would he and Reyna have ever gotten along that well? Sean was funny, easygoing.
No one had ever described Wade as either. He pointed at Brisa’s sister. “What does Cookie call you?”
Reyna wrinkled her nose. “Reyna.”
Wade frowned and turned to Brisa. She would get his confusion and explain it.
“Honestly, Cookie calls her Reyna and puts some respect behind it.” Brisa squeezed his hand. She hadn’t let him go. Wade was happy with that. “You will learn that normal rules do not apply to Reyna Montero.”
Thanks to their history, he and Brisa could have a private conversation in public. Her answer was light enough, but she was explaining something more than nicknames, too.
Brisa knew her sister better than anyone. It was clear they were best friends.
But it was also clear that being Cover Girl to Reyna’s Reyna could take a toll.
Wade could see some of the shadow in Brisa’s eyes and understood some of the battle Brisa faced.
“We should give her one,” Wade murmured. Then he snapped his eyes away from Brisa’s. He’d been staring at her for too long. Creepy, right? “Anybody got any suggestions?”
“I told Cookie on my first visit that Queen was my Air Force call sign, because of the meaning of my name. That’s the only nickname I’ve ever had.” Reyna grimaced. “Cookie refused to call another woman Queen and was offended by the suggestion, so...”
“Shouldn’t be so hard to come up with another one,” Sean said, as if he’d already given it some consideration and failed. His glare across the table at Wade was another clue that the nickname had been an issue before, and he didn’t appreciate Wade bringing it back up.
Silence settled over their small oasis in the noisy room.
Sean frowned as he concentrated on the wood grain on the table.
Brisa had propped her chin on her hand as she thought.
Wade was sorry he’d made the suggestion. It was supposed to get things back on track, not bring conversation to an abrupt halt. If he had a superpower, that was it: halting normal social interaction in its tracks without even trying.
“What’s all the serious about?” Cookie shouted as she slammed two surf plates on the table. Everyone immediately shifted as two more plates loaded with shrimp, scallops, what looked like catfish, hush puppies and a mound of french fries slid across in front of them. “This oughta cheer you up.” She motioned the woman standing behind her forward, so that she could wedge in containers of some kind of red sauce, tartar sauce and ketchup. A third server topped off their tea.
It was an organized blitz on the table, executed with precision and speed.
Cookie might have a career in the military if Surf and Turf ever closed.
“Anything else I can get you?” Cookie asked but she was already moving away. She knew the answer had to be no.
Brisa ripped off paper towels from the holder on the table and handed everyone some. “No napkins. No silverware. Cookie doesn’t waste money on the nonessentials.” She raised an eyebrow at Wade to gauge his reaction. “You aren’t going to make us look bad, are you, Wade?” She picked up a fry and plopped it in her mouth to chew.
Wade shook his head. When in Rome, he could eat with his fingers, too.
And the food was good. Too good to waste time making polite conversation. All four of them focused on their plates until the full platters had been destroyed, alth
ough no one cleared their whole meal. The draw to Surf and Turf was clear. Surly service. Lack of amenities. Dangerous ambience.
All wiped away by the power of fried food.
“Somebody mark the calendar. We can’t come back for a full month,” Brisa said as she collapsed against the booth. “Our arteries will need time to clear.”
Wade almost fell for the trap. When people made incorrect medical statements, he often corrected them. Arteries wouldn’t magically clear any buildup in a month’s time. Then he realized it was conversation, not a diagnosis. No one was in any danger of falling under Brisa’s bad medical advice.
“Good thing I’m running in the morning.” Sean thumped his stomach. “Mira will not take fried-food hangover as an excuse.” His face brightened. “Hey, you could be her new victim. Do you run, Wade?”
Wade balled his paper towel up and put it on the french fry graveyard of his plate. “Treadmill only. I have a nice, air-conditioned gym for that.”
Reyna nodded her approval and Brisa laughed at Sean’s disappointed expression.
“I knew you were a smart guy, Wade,” Reyna said as she shot a glance at her sister and then leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table. “Tell me, if you were looking for a date, what kind of woman would you like to meet?”
It took a second for her words to penetrate his happy food fog. Then he turned to Brisa, who was shaking her head wildly. “I don’t know. I didn’t...” She huffed out a frustrated sigh. “She was guessing who had asked to be set up, and we just confirmed it was you.” Brisa glared at her sister, who had a smug expression on her face. “She was snooping in my phone, found some notifications from the dating website and started asking questions. I hoped it was over, but no.”
Reyna patted her sister’s hand across the table. “BB, don’t worry. Just because I can’t tell a lie, doesn’t mean I can’t figure out when there’s more truth behind the crumbs you toss me, especially when I know it’s going to be juicy.” Then she faced Wade. “Ignore them. Tell me what’s going on.”
The Doctor and the Matchmaker--A Clean Romance Page 9