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For a long moment he didn’t say a word. He just stared at me while I clutched my chest.
He finally spoke. “What’s your name?” he asked.
Was he for real? I admit it, I was outraged. How could he not remember that? “Sophie,” I said through my teeth. “Sophie Bigelow.”
He gave me a smirk. “Well, Sophie, let me give you a piece of advice.”
A pit settled in my gut. I was not going to like what he had to say. His expression gave me the sinking feeling that this would be like grade school—when you got set up by the cool girl and then she humiliated you. Sure, come to my party. Only when you show up no one is there. I didn’t want to care about Cain’s opinion of me, but I did. I wasn’t looking for love, but neither did I want to be trashed or dismissed. He’d kissed me goodbye like he had enjoyed himself, and I had appreciated that. All he had to do now was remember giving me the most intense pleasure of my life and I was good with that.
Respect. It was an easy thing to give.
“If you have trouble telling us apart, there are two things Cain has that I don’t: a tattoo and an ever-present drink in his hand. I’m Christian, his identical twin. Also known as the good twin.”
Relief coursed through my veins. That explained the total lack of emotion or recognition. But I was embarrassed that I had essentially shared with him what Cain and I had done, and I couldn’t help but give this twin a jab. He could have said something sooner. It had been obvious I had thought he was Cain, that I thought we knew each other. “Well, for being the good twin that was a rude thing to do to me just now. You knew I thought you were Cain and you made me feel like shit.”
His eyebrows rose. He cracked a laugh. “Fair enough.” He came around the swing set and stuck his hand out. “Christian Jordan. Nice to meet you, Sophie.”
Christian didn’t have the same swagger, that cocky confidence Cain did. He gave me a friendly smile, yet I couldn’t interpret his genuine feelings or intention at all.
“Hi, Christian. Cain didn’t tell me he has an identical twin.”
“That’s because he hates me. And listen, you might want to rethink pursuing my brother.”
“Why?” I shook Christian’s hand automatically. Yep. This definitely wasn’t Cain. His touch didn’t send electricity shooting through my body.
“Because you seem like a nice girl.”
That annoyed me. How did he determine in two minutes that I was a “nice girl”? And what did that even mean? “And?”
“Cain has problems. And a little heads-up—Cain never goes home with the same girl twice. It’s one and done.”
“Thanks for the advice.” There was something underlying his words though that I just couldn’t figure out. This was one of those moments where I couldn’t read intention. It wasn’t a skill I had ever possessed or learned. I just knew I didn’t want to continue the conversation. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon with your son.”
“Take care, Sophie. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Sure.” For some reason I hoped I wouldn’t. Christian had rubbed me wrong, an unusual reaction for me. I did wave to the little boy though, making faces and gaining a grin from the toddler.
When I got back to the salon, I was sure Bella was going to be furious at me for not being there to capture her entrance into the room of three-way mirrors with my phone, but she wasn’t even out of the fitting room yet. “Are you okay?” I asked, knocking on the door.
“Go away, Sophie!” she yelled at me. Unlike a regular fitting room in a clothing store, this had an actual door so I couldn’t see anything. She didn’t sound upset, just angry. So I decided not to force the issue. If I had to guess, she thought she looked heavy in her dress, which of course would be completely impossible and ludicrous given her height and weight. I was too distracted to cater to that.
I sat down on a velvet sofa and chewed my bottom lip, checking my social media. The seamstress discovered my dress on the floor and gave me a dirty look as she picked it up and brushed it up, placing it on a hanger.
“Sorry,” I said. But then I forgot about feeling guilty when my phone lit up in my hand. It was Cain, calling me via FaceTime. I sat up straight and ran my fingers through my hair, feeling instantly both excited and nervous. I swiped on the screen. “Hello?”
There was his face, with an expression I remembered. A sly smile. Totally unlike his brother. “Hey, Little Red, what’s up?”
“Hey, Cain.” Damn, he was so sexy. It felt a little surreal that this man had been inside me. He looked scruffy, his chin covered in stubble. There were dark circles under his eyes, I would assume from the whiskey and the lack of sleep. He had told me he had to go to work in the morning.
Given that there was nothing but water behind him, he had made it in to the “office.” That was impressive in and of itself. Being on a rocking boat after a night of drinking could not be great for your sense of equilibrium.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. His voice was gravelly over the sound of the wind.
“I’m not hungover. I didn’t really drink that much in the end.”
“No, I meant with everything. Down south.”
That was embarrassing. I could feel my cheeks start to burn. This was not a conversation I had expected to be having with him. “Two thumbs up.” Because really, what the hell was I supposed to say?
