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“Getting tanked tonight?” Katie snagged his keys from the bar, then hopped onto the neighboring stool. “Thanks for being on time. Punctuality’s one of yourbetterqualities.” She leaned over the bar and ordered sparkling water before swiveling to face him. “I sent the text from Logan’s phone. Sorry to trick you, big brother, but we need to have a little chat. Now that I have you face-to-face and unable to escape,” she jingled his keys in front of his face before shoving them into the front pocket of her painted-on jeans, “you’re going to say more than four words about your major screw-up with Andie.”
Shit. This conversation would require more than a schooner of beer. “Looks like I’ll be running a tab,” he instructed the bartender when the first twenty-ounce glass arrived. “And as long asshe’shere, keep ’em coming.”
Katie lifted her bottle. “He wants to pay for my drink as well.” Then it was guns loaded and aimed directly at him. “I had a magazine picture to show Andie, a sleeve detail for my wedding dress, so I dropped by her place earlier. Unannounced.”
He gave a so-what shrug and let a wave of lager roll down his throat. Maybe he should order a shot of Jack Daniel’s to speed things along.
“It took her forever to answer the door. When she did, well…she’d obviously been crying. For days, judging by the puffy redness.”
“I’ve seen her when she’s upset, Katie. She gets that way after five minutes. I’m sure she’s fine, whatever it was.”
“Moron.” Practiced fingers flicked him on the temple—hard. “Youbroke her heart.”
“No, I didn’t.” Was going out for a couple of beers on a Friday night suddenly cursed? The episode with Lasha last week, and now this week with Katie. Both of them on his case about Andie. He took another swig of beer, savoring the coolness. A few seconds’ relief from a heated female tirade. “I realized we weren’t going to be compatible long term. Andie already knew that.”
Katie made an indignant, squeak-like noise. “After all the times you told her that the age difference didn’t matter? Shame on you.”
“No…fuck. Is that what she said?”
“She didn’t sayanything. You never noticed those big walls she has up?”
Yeah, he’d noticed. Plenty of times. As sexually uninhibited, fun and warm as Andie was, she tended to clam up when it came to the deeply personal stuff. He’d assumed she held back because she wasn’t that invested in their relationship.
“I don’t have to be her BFF to get how wrecked she is over the breakup.”
Damn, why did that make him feel better, instead of shitty? “I miss her, Katie-Kat.”
“So why’d you give her the Dear Jane letter, you big dummy?” Katie stopped his hand from lifting the beer to his mouth. “Talk to me, big brother. You know I’m on your side, even if you’re royally screwing things up.”
The beer went back on the bar. She’d be relentless if he didn’t talk. And part of him wanted to unload. Getting it off his chest might help clear it from his mind. “It was a douchey move, but I knew if I tried to end it face-to-face, I wouldn’t be able to.”
“From the looks of both of you, that would’ve been a good thing.”
“Long term, I did what was best for everybody.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Turns out I want the whole house including the picket fence and she only wants the bedroom.”
“Oh.” Her hand touched his arm. “That might change.”
He opened his throat and downed the remaining half glass of beer. “She doesn’t love me, but she loves her son, and I’m sure as hell not going to be the guy who keeps their family apart trying to serve his own purposes.” A fresh draught appeared in front of him. Good man. “Thanks. You have any decent tequila behind that bar?”
“Don Julio,” the bartender said. “Eight bucks a pop.”
“Hit me.” This talk required something harder than beer. He tossed the tequila back, the shot leaving a warm trail all the way to his stomach. Much better.
“I think you’re way off base about…” Katie’s protest died on her lips. “Oh shit.”
Mason followed her sightline to the door. Fucking awesome. This night just kept getting better. He rapped his knuckles on the glossy hardwood to get the bartender’s attention. “Another tequila.”
“What’shedoing with them?” The way Katie clucked her tongue in disgust was a perfect copy of their mother. Any other time, he would’ve teased her about it mercilessly.
But now, Mason sat very still and quiet. As if that would keep Andie or Scott from noticing him as they followed a hostess to a table. “Having dinner, by the looks of it. With his family.”
The second shot of tequila—gone.
“She said she was coming here after Dylan’s game. I thought it was going to be her and her son. I thought…” Katie focused on the Finch family night out. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to talk to her—casually, at least. Start working things out.”
