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He would be even more of a burden to her than he already was.
And now she was giving away his case...
He stabbed his steak, now doing his best to push away the memory of the conversation he’d heard through the villa’s thin walls. He was reading too much into things. Getting too turned around.
His wrist would improve.
It would just take time. So. Much. Time.
“I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Shay said, and he brought himself back to the present when he looked into her clear, green eyes. Damn, she was gorgeous.
Shame she had such a giant stick up her ass, or she might be exactly what he needed to unwind...
"I think we're all tired from our flights. The time difference alone," Andy piped in, and to emphasize her point, Andy let out a loud, fake yawn. "I could go to sleep right now."
"I'm wide awake. I think I'm going to head into town and stop by a bar. Derrick invited me. Anybody want to come?" Matt raised his eyebrows at Shay.
"I think we have plans." Logan grinned at Andy, and Matt's stomach flipped over in disgust. Wasn't it bad enough to have his friend banging his sister without him leering at her all the time, too?
"Right. Well, how about you? Looking to unwind?" He held his hand out to Shay, and she looked from it to him. Her pert nose wrinkled.
"Well, don't say I never offered you anything." He shrugged, picked up his dishes, and stowed them in the washer before heading for the door.
After a quick goodbye, he was off, speeding into town just as quickly as he could go, the island music blaring from his speakers while the wind swept through his dark blond hair.
This was going to be good. It was exactly what he needed. The chance to blow off steam with the one person (besides Andy) who knew him best in the world. His brother, Derrick.
When he got to the address Derrick had sent him, he had to do a double take. Unlike the little cabana and open-air patio bars crowding the city, this place was in the middle of a metropolitan-looking strip mall. The large, black windows were impossible to see into and, if he had to guess by the sign, it looked like the place hadn't been open for a good fifteen years.
Still, a little cardboard cutout in the window claimed the place was open, so Matt cautiously made his way inside.
It was packed. All around him, island folks crowded around tables, chattering and laughing with each other. A barman was slinging drinks just as quickly as he could, his long black dreadlocks flying as he went. And at the very end of the bar was the familiar bulky frame of his older brother.
For an instant, Matt was caught off guard by the way the years had changed Derrick. Or maybe the army had done the changing for him. Still, looking at him was almost like looking at their father again with his thick, dark hair and perpetual five o'clock shadow.
Shaking his head, Matt grinned and yelled, "Derrick!"
The other man looked up, beaming back, and then clasped his brother in a warm embrace.
"It's been too long, little brother," Derrick said, and when they broke apart, he motioned for Matt to take a seat.
"I know it." Matt slid onto the stool beside him and found a frosted mug of beer already awaiting him. "What the hell is this place?"
"It's wher
e the locals go. Sort of like a Moose Lodge. Cheaper drinks. Better atmosphere." He shrugged. "I don't want to talk about this, though. I want to talk about you. And Andy, too. You're promising me this Logan guy is good enough for her?"
“Cutting straight to the chase, huh?”
Derrick nodded.
"I promise. Logan’s perfect for her," Matt said.
"And you don't hold him responsible for..." Derrick glanced at Matt's wrist, apparently unsure of how to end his sentence. It was fine, though. Matt had discussed the accident that collapsed his career enough to know how to respond to questions about it.
"We've been over this," Matt said.
"I know. It's just"—Derrick took a swig of his beer and then continued—"I just don't know how a guy can stamp on your pitching wrist like that, call it an accident, and have nobody blame him for it."
