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“She’s a talker, and at first, that meant I didn’t have to talk. Like, at all, which was pretty great,” I say sarcastically. “But then, it became easier and we . . . talked.” I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘talk’ that many times in my entire life combined.
“I think I love her. Listen to you waxing poetic about all the ways she’s changed you for the better.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Undeterred, Kayla asks, “When do we meet her?”
I shake my head. “It’s not like that. That wasn’t the deal.”
“Deal? What deal?” Kayla’s on full alert now. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Her boyfriend broke up with her right before an important family event, so I offered to take her to a wedding. She needed a friend. That’s it.” That’s not close to ‘it’ but I’ve already said too much.
“Tell me you didn’t pull some stupid Carter-esque stunt.” She presses fingers to her forehead right above her brows, talking to the ceiling with closed eyes. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Mom react the same way to various things us boys have done. “You’re too smart for that. Tell me, Cole.”
She’s talking about my second-oldest brother, Carter, who decided to take his best friend’s little sister to a client meeting as his ‘wife’. It worked out in the long run, but it was messy, for Carter, his now-actual wife, Luna, the company, and even the client. And that’s almost exactly what I did. I even considered calling Carter for advice. But I don’t tell Kayla any of that.
“Her family is bad, Kayla,” I answer without answering. “Not like ours. Bad like . . . mean and hurtful. And she’s this bright sunshine that sees beauty in the ugliest of people. She called me ‘sweet’, for fuck’s sake.” I’m not explaining it right, not really, but I don’t know how to express how good Janey is and how shitty her family is without getting angry all over again.
“You can be sweet,” Kayla repeats, but she sounds pissed about it. “So what did you do?”
I don’t reply, and Kayla leans across the table, her voice low and hard-edged and her eyes icy. “I can call Kyle right now. Have him stop by and fuck your shit up.” The threat is real and meant whole-heartedly.
It’s a legitimate threat, too. I could take Kyle . . . once upon a time. He’s my little brother, after all. But these days, he’s more jacked than all of us brothers put together and has zero sense of self-preservation. He’d probably enjoy beating the information out of me. Or just beating me up for the hell of it, no reason needed.
I growl but admit, “Told them I was her boyfriend.” Kayla lifts a brow, knowing there’s more and not accepting anything less than all of it. Right now. I roll my eyes and sigh. “And fake proposed to her in the middle of the dance floor so everyone would remember that and not the wedding.”
I expect shock. Horror, maybe. But Kayla laughs loudly. She covers her mouth, trying to contain it, but it escapes, becoming even more boisterous.
People are looking at us again.
“You did not!”
“Shut up,” I snap. “It’s not funny. Janey caught the bouquet, and the bride literally attacked her.”
Still laughing, she says, “It’s hilarious! You . . . proposed . . . during someone else’s wedding? That’s awful . . . so wrong.” She’s shaking her head and waving a hand like she wants me to stop talking so she can get control of her giggles and catch her breath.
When I glare, she only laughs harder. And people definitely heard her say I proposed to someone because she said it at one hundred decibels and this damn coffee shop echoes like crazy. They’ve probably decided I’ve got another woman sitting at home now because there are several women giving me stink eyes who were looking at me with interest when I came in earlier.
Not that I care about any of them.
Eventually, she finally sobers enough to speak, but she’s still laughing as she asks, “She okay . . . from the . . . whoo . . . pull it together . . . attack?”
“Physically? Yeah. Emotionally? Probably not,” I growl, anger rising as I remember the scratch Paisley left on Janey’s cheek and the look of terror in her eyes when I yanked Paisley off her. “Which is why you’re not meeting her.”
“You mean why you’re sitting here moping and not at her place right now,” she corrects.
I amp it up and give her my top-notch, go-to-hell scowl. She grins, unfazed, as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
“This is why I don’t tell you shit. I’m sharing important information here, for the first time in the history of fuck-all, and you’re laughing about it.” Okay, so I’m a little grumpy that Kayla isn’t treating this like the groundbreaking deal that it is. I’m growing over here, trying new things and whatnot, and she’s giving me a hard time in return.
