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I would have pegged Christopher Bennett as many things, but not a romantic. He's such a pragmatic type, it never even occurred to me. I wonder if he'll ever cease to surprise me. I have no clue what to write back, and when he doesn’t follow up, I return to the living room just as Sienna enters the house. I smile at nothing at all, my pulse at an all-time high, and my stomach full of butterflies.
Oh my. Be still my beating heart. I can handle fun and lust. But butterflies? They're traitorous little beasts.
Chapter Eleven
Christopher
"I need a refill." I hold up my empty glass as I rise from the chair, excusing myself from the table.
Three college friends flew into town this week, and we scheduled drinks tonight to catch up. I haven't seen two of them in five years, the third even longer. Naturally, I've brought them to my brother Blake's bar. Blake and Daniel are the younger set of twins in the family, but they are not identical. Up until last year, the running joke in the family was that Blake and Daniel were the “party brothers.” When Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa set up Bennett Enterprises, they made each member of our famil
y a shareholder, whether they worked in the company or not, so Blake and Daniel lived off the dividends, attending one too many parties. This changed last year when Blake decided to open a bar, and Daniel, his extreme adventure- and outdoor-excursion business. After scoring a spot on various lists featuring San Francisco's top bars, Blake’s place has become a popular stop for tourists and locals alike. I'm damn proud of him.
"Little brother, your barman skills are needed," I tell Blake, plunking my glass on the counter.
"Here you go!" He refills my glass with beer, motioning with his head to the blondie tending the other end of the bar. "My girl Amber here is interested in you."
I slice a glance at Amber, who smiles shyly.
"How come you're not interested in her?" I inquire. Back when he first opened the bar, he tended to be overly friendly with the female members of his staff.
My brother shrugs. "New rule—I don't hit on employees, which means I have to go to other bars to pick up women, and that gives me an opportunity to check out the competition. It's a win-win."
Amber is now openly staring at me, her smile changing from shy to suggestive. She's a beautiful woman. I know where this would lead, and it would be a fun night, but I have zero interest in her. A certain brunette has been hijacking my thoughts lately. A night with Victoria, now that I'd be interested in.
"Tell her I'm seeing someone else," I instruct him, "and try to let her down gently."
Blake shoots daggers with his eyes at me. "She explicitly asked me if you're seeing anyone, and I told her no."
"Tell her you weren't up to date."
"But—Wait, are you seeing someone? I didn't hear anything through the Bennett rumor mill. Now that I think about it, our sisters were coy when talking about you last time I saw them. That should have clued me in."
"Trust me, when it comes to Pippa and Alice, you'll see the clue only when it smacks you over the head."
Blake groans while I gulp down some beer.
"So, you're dating someone?" he presses. I swear to God, Blake is almost as nosy as my sisters.
"Not exactly, but the decorator for my apartment… I can’t stop thinking about her. She's a great woman. Hardworking. Sweet. Sassy."
"And another one bites the dust," Blake mutters, mixing a cocktail.
"What?"
"These symptoms… I've seen them before."
"What are you talking about?"
"Those puppy-dog eyes, thinking the sun shines out of her butt. In the past three years, I've seen three of our brothers fall to this virus, Bennettitis. It's an epidemic."
"You're annoying me."
"That's what siblings are for," Blake says. Leaning over the counter, he adds, "You do have Bennettitis. Mark my words. By the way, are you coming next Monday?"
“Sure.” My siblings and I try to meet every Monday evening here at Blake’s bar to catch up with each other, but lately everyone’s been busy, occasionally skipping it, to Blake’s annoyance.
Shaking my head, I raise my glass in his direction, then walk back to the group. They're currently immersed in a conversation about some shit we pulled during college, especially freshman year. Later, the conversation turns to the present. All three of them work at the same bank on Wall Street, and apparently, their after-work activities can be summed up in one word: strippers. What a cliché.
