by Aly Martinez
* * *
One week later…
Me: It took eighty-one years for me to get off that damn plane.
Rita: I’m sorry. You really didn’t have to fly back and forth to New York in the same day. I could have survived one night without accosting you.
Me: Well, I can’t say the same. However, now that you’re a hundred years old, I’m concerned with how your tits held up over time.
Rita: You’ll be happy to know, after having you legally declared dead, I spent all of your money on plastic surgery. I look as good as the day you left.
Me: I can’t possibly think of a better use of my money.
Rita: Don’t worry. I saved a little so you can have your wrinkly old-man balls tucked.
Me: And just when I start to think you aren’t the perfect woman, you go and surprise me.
Rita: What in the world gave you the idea that I wasn’t the perfect woman?
Me: Uh…you had me declared dead after only eighty-one years! I would have waited for you forever.
Rita: And just when I start to think you couldn’t get cornier…
Me: Oh, guess what?
Rita: You found a workout video that can turn you into Robb Stark?
Me: Woman! What the hell is wrong with you? Besides. I said, “Guess what.” Not, “Be a smartass.”
Rita: My bad. Let’s try this again.
Me: Guess what?
Rita: What?
Me: I’m not home yet and I need to run by The Porterhouse to pick up something. Want to meet me for dinner?
Rita: And give my attorney a reason to yell at me tomorrow? No, thanks. I’ll meet you at your place so we can fuck like the secret lovers we are.
Me: Holy shit! Your mouth is filthy. I like it. Let’s eat and then get dessert to-go. I might be able to swipe some of the chocolate syrup we use on the cake.
Rita: Ew. No chocolate syrup. It’s not sexy when you wake up at two a.m. looking like you just crawled through the trenches.
Me: Speak for yourself. I’m sexy at all times.
Rita: Except for when you said that.
Me: Fine. Meet me at The Porterhouse and I’ll remind you how sexy I can be.
Rita: Dinner at your restaurant isn’t laying low.
Me: Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a surprise for you? It starts with Douchebag Greg… And ends with… Signed the divorce papers today.
Rita: SHUT UP! OH MY GOD!!!!!!! How did they convince him to do that?
Me: I have no idea. But we need to celebrate.
Thirty minutes later, I was standing at the hostess stand at The Porterhouse, greeting gushing customers, when Rita not as much walked through the door as she pranced through it. Her huge smile matched my own.
“Excuse me for a second,” I told the woman old enough to be my mother who hadn’t stopped rubbing my abs since she’d recognized me.
“Hey,” Rita breathed when I stopped in front of her. A few hours earlier, that was as far as we could have taken it in public. Now?
“Get over here.” I hooked an arm around her back and dramatically yanked her into my arms for a hard, movie-worthy kiss.
She giggled the whole time, and I was positive everyone was watching us.
Whatever. Let ’em stare.
When I finally released her, I gave her a curt nod and greeted, “Miss Hartley.”
Her grin stretched. “Well, hello to you too, Mr. Reese.”
I toyed with the ends of her hair and very obviously stole a glance down the front of her dress. I still hadn’t told her about Shana being pregnant. And it was definitely weighing on me. But I knew the truth, and when the time came, Rita would believe me. End of story. At least that’s what I’d convinced myself of while lying in my bed, staring at her the night after we’d had sex for the first time. Not to be confused with all the other nights I’d lain in bed, staring at her over the last week.
Yeah. Fine. I was a little weird. But this woman did it for me—big time.
“You going to stand there and stare at my boobs all night, or are you going to wine and dine me for my celebratory dinner?”
“What if I stare at your boobs while I wine and dine you?”
“I would be offended if you didn’t.”
I proffered my elbow and she linked her arm through mine. Stopping to grab a menu, I stated, “Bethany, we’ll be at my table. Can you send someone back?”
She smiled up at me. “Oh, Porter’s already back there with his girlfriend. What about table twenty-nine? It’s—”
My eyebrows shot up. “Porter’s here?”
She nodded.
An idea struck me and I could barely contain my excitement as I looked to Rita. “Does Charlotte know about us yet?”
“No way was I risking that lecture. Plus, she’s tight with Greg, being that they’re partners and all. I didn’t want to put her in an awkward situation if he asked her about us.”
“Good,” I drawled. “Porter’s clueless. My mom has been harassing me to call and tell him about us now that Dr. Douchebag is treating Travis. But listening to him bitch at me is pretty low on my to-do list. What do you say we kill two birds with one stone and shock the shit out of them?”
Once again, her smile grew to match mine. Seriously, could this woman be any more perfect for me?
“I’ll go first and ruffle his feathers. Give me, like, three minutes and then pop over like you just got here.”
“You are evil.” She pressed up onto her toes and whispered against my lips, “And I love it.”
The sound of the word love rolling off her tongue made my ears perk. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the same love I felt roaring through my veins when I was with her. She loved it, not me. But it was a start. Everyone had to start somewhere, right?
I kissed her twice more before I finally walked away. Grinning like a fool, I rounded the corner and caught sight of my brother holding Charlotte’s hand like the true Reese man he was.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” I drawled, stopping at the end of their booth.
“What are you doing here?” Porter asked while shooting me a scowl. “I thought you were out of town still?”
“I just got back. I swung by to pick up a bottle of champagne when Bethany told me you were back here with your girlfriend.”
“And I’ll remind you again, Tanner. Our bar does not double as your personal wine cellar. There’s a liquor store two blocks over.”
Score! I knew that one would piss him off.
I cut my gaze to Charlotte. She was pretty—simple but very, very pretty. “You must be the infamous Charlotte Mills.”
Her voice was even as she greeted, “And you must be Sloth.”
Thoroughly confused, I twisted my lips. “Sloth?”
Her face remained stoic and humorless as she replied, “Yeah. Porter showed me a picture of you. I have to say, though, it must have been an old one, because you haven’t aged well.” She flipped her gaze to Porter. “I was wrong before. You definitely got the looks in the family.”
My mouth fell open. Jesus. And I thought Rita was a ballbuster. Seems both the Reese brothers had a type.
Giving her hand a tight squeeze, Porter crooned, “Is it too soon to be falling in love with you?”
“Yes. Entirely,” she said dryly.
Porter seemed entirely unfazed and winked at her. “Okay. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
A grin broke across her mouth, taking her from simple to breathtaking. Yeah, Porter had done well with this one.
I blew out a hard exhale, sliding into the booth on Porter’s side, practically sitting in his lap until he decided to move over. “Oh, you were kidding.”
“Do you mind?” he complained.
“Not particularly,” I replied. “So, Charlotte, do you have any idea how much my brother obsesses about you?”
I wasn’t altogether sure if this was true or not. But after seeing that smile, I was pretty damn sure he had to obsess about her. Or he was stupid. Which,
knowing my brother, could have also been the case.
“Seriously?” Porter grumbled.
She tipped her head to the side and slid her gaze to my brother, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly. “You obsess about me?”
He shrugged. “No more than you obsess about me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she retorted.
It was at that point that I got downright giddy because I caught sight of Rita out of the corner of my eye.
Showtime!
“She’s lying. She’s completely obsessed with you,” Rita said, sliding beside Charlotte into the booth.
“Uhhh…” Charlotte drawled as she scooted over.
Without missing a beat, I pushed up onto my elbows and leaned across the table, where Rita met me halfway for a quick peck on the lips.
The surprise on their faces was everything I’d hoped it would be. I had no idea how I didn’t keel over onto the floor in hysterics.
“Hey, babe,” I chirped, reaching out to take Rita’s hand.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late. I lost my car keys,” Rita replied, completely ignoring the palpable shock like the champ she was.
I stared at her dreamily—only partially an act. “You should have called. I still have your spare. I would have swung by and given it to you.”
Porter’s slack-jawed shock had me making a mental note to swing by the security office on my way out and see if I could get a copy of this interaction. I was going to blow up a still of his face six feet wide and hang it over my fireplace.
Charlotte found her words first. “Are you two seeing each other?”
Rita’s thick, black lashes batted innocently over her green eyes as she spoke out of the side of her mouth. “You aren’t the only woman who landed a hot new man. We really need a wine night to catch up.”
“I saw you an hour ago!” Charlotte exclaimed. “And literally every day this week. Why do we need a wine night for you to tell me you’re dating Sloth?”
Still, utterly confused, I turned to Porter. “She’s kidding about the Sloth thing, right? I seriously can’t read her.”
He hit me hard on the shoulder. “Please, God, tell me you are not sleeping with Rita! Her husband is Travis’s doctor!”
Rita scoffed. “I am not married.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “I talked to my attorney today. He received the signed divorce papers back from Greg.”
Porter hit me again. “Your attorney is handling her divorce?”
Rita pursed her lips and clutched her imaginary pearls. “Thanks, honey. I really appreciate you taking care of that.” She then said to Charlotte in a sugary-sweet tone, “Do you guys mind if we do a little switch-a-roo on the seats so I can sit next to my guy?”
“Good idea,” I said, lurching out of the booth to let Porter out.
He didn’t move a muscle. They just sat there, both of them blinking and staring.
Rita stood and moved in close, pressing her front to my side to give them a front-and-center look at our relationship.
I glanced down at her, fighting the urge to kiss her indecently, only finding success because fucking with my brother was one of my favorite pastimes. I looked back at him and impatiently bulged my eyes. “You gonna get out of there or what?”
“Not until you tell—” He stopped midsentence, something dawning on his face. He immediately slid out of the booth. “Charlotte, can I have a word with you?”
She tore her accusing glare from Rita and asked, “Now?”
“Yes. In private.” He smiled tightly, flaring his eyes at her with some kind of obvious urgency.
She blinked for several seconds before sliding out.
“And bring your purse… I need”—He glanced at me as I sat down and pulled Rita in after me—“ChapStick.”
“I don’t have any ChapStick,” Charlotte replied.
“Oh, I do!” Rita exclaimed and then began digging through her bag.
I watched suspiciously as he leaned toward his girlfriend and whispered something to her.
Her whole body jerked as she reached for her purse. “You know what? I think I do have some.”
I flashed Rita a questioning glance and she replied with a one-shoulder shrug. What the hell was going on with these two?
“We’ll be right back,” Porter said, shuffling backward, all but dragging Charlotte with him.
“What was that?” I asked when they disappeared out of sight.
“I don’t know, but that was weird. I figured Mom and Pop would still be yelling at us.”
“Right? I was really looking forward to Porter losing his shit.”
“Oh well. You win some, you lose some.” She rested her hand on my thigh and started to peruse the menu. “So, what’s good here?”
Smirking, I looked down at her. “Everything. I made the menu.”
She closed the menu and ran the tip of her finger over the black leather exterior. “You made this. By hand? It must have taken you forever.”
I flipped it back open. “No, smartass. Everything on that menu is one of my original recipes.”
“Oh! Show me where the steak with the Asiago cream is.”
“It’s not on there. That’s the Rita Hartley special.”
She beamed up at me, so I stole a kiss.
“But if you want, I can have Raul make it for you.”
She nuzzled her nose with mine. “Nah. It wouldn’t be as good as yours.”
I nipped at her bottom lip. “You’re already getting laid tonight. You don’t need to lay it on that thick.”
She was still giggling when a woman pointedly cleared her throat behind me. I glanced up and found one of the waitresses staring back at me. “Sorry to interrupt. We have a problem.”
I straightened in my seat. “What’s up?”
“There’s a guy at table sixteen who’s sent back his steak three times.”
I immediately rose from my seat. “I thought Raul was in the kitchen tonight?”
She shook her head. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with his steak. He’s just being rude, and Gus isn’t, well, handling it very well. He got loud with the customer and everyone’s staring.”
“Who the hell is Gus?”
“The new manager. It’s his first night.” She peeked over her shoulder and then lowered her voice. “We’re all kind of hoping it will be his last night too.”
“Jesus,” I huffed. “Okay, go find Porter about Gus. I’ll go see if I can charm—”
“Porter left.”
I cupped a hand to my ear. “I’m sorry. Come again.”
“He and his girlfriend just took off. Peeled out of the parking lot and everything.”
That rat fucking bastard. He knew good and damn well he couldn’t leave a new manager alone on his first night. One of us had to be there.
Keywords: one of us.
And since I’d shown up on a night when I was supposed to be out of town, that one of us had defaulted to me.
“Uh, Tanner,” another one of the waitresses called as she jogged over. “Gus just told the guy to step outside with him. You might want to get over there sooner than later.”
Son of a fucking bitch.
I sighed and looked back at Rita. “I’m sorry. My brother’s a dick.”
She gathered her purse and stood up. “It’s okay. Go. I’ll meet you at your place later?”
“Shit. We’re supposed to be celebrating,” I groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, silly. Go prevent a brawl in your parking lot.”
I stared at her longer than I should have considering that the sounds of the argument had started to infiltrate the dining room.
The I love you I wanted to say was poised on the tip of my tongue.
We weren’t there yet though. Or at least Rita wasn’t.
I brought her hand to my lips. “I’ll come to your place. It might be late.”
She nodded, pressed up onto her toes, and kissed my cheek. “Whenever, baby.”
<
br /> I watched her walk away, then headed toward the lion’s den.
All the while texting Andrea to ask for a favor.
* * *
I hated leaving Tanner at the restaurant, but I did it with a smile on my face because, regardless of whether he was with me or not, I was celebrating.
Tanner’s attorneys had done the impossible in getting Greg to sign the divorce papers with minimal pushback. Or at least, if there had been pushback from Greg’s side, no one had told me. Whoever had coined the phrase “ignorance is bliss” was really onto something.
It probably helped that I hadn’t asked for anything in the divorce except for my 401K and my car. My brother had been pissed I didn’t go after more. But I didn’t want more from Greg. I wanted it to be over so I could move on with the rest of my life. Fighting it out in court with him wouldn’t have changed anything. But it would have allowed him to steal more time from me. I’d already given him seven years. That was enough.
At a stoplight on my way back, I sent Sidney a text to let her know the ink was drying. I didn’t bother texting Charlotte. With as fast as she and Porter had dashed out of the restaurant, she was probably on orgasm number three by now. That is if Porter was even a fraction as talented in bed as his brother.
I pulled into my driveway, thinking about how happy I was for her. Charlotte had lived a sad existence. I liked the idea of a Reese man making my best friend laugh again.
My smile died when a dark silhouette I’d have recognized anywhere rose to his full height on my porch.
Fucking Greg.
I slammed the car into park as though the transmission had been the one to invite Greg over and then climbed out. “Why are you here?”
He stuffed a hand into the pocket of his slacks and looked at the ground. “I just need to pick up a few things from the garage.”
Bullshit. The only stuff he had in the garage were old high school yearbooks and boxes full of other equally unimportant clutter.
I reached back into my car, slapping the garage door opener. “Have at it.” Becoming enthralled with my keys to avoid eye contact, I marched past him.
He caught my arm, gently pulling me to a stop. “Rita, please. Just talk to me. It’s done. I signed the papers. I gave you what you wanted. You owe me at least one conversation.”