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“Let’s meet tomorrow,” I tell him, still staring over at McKenzie’s table. That’s when I see a man approach her and sit. Fury floods me. “On second thought, I have time for a drink,” I say, and take a bar stool next to Tyler. But I keep eyeing McKenzie’s table.
“What in the heck are you looking at so intently?” Tyler asks.
Before my brother can focus in on McKenzie, I distract him. “I heard you’re seeing a woman,” I add, and Tyler whips his head around.
“Where did you hear that?”
“I have my sources,” I say. Then fury overpowers me all over again when the man sitting with McKenzie grabs her hand.
I want to go over and stake my claim, tell this man — whoever he is — that McKenzie’s mine, and he’d better keep his filthy hands off of her if he knows what’s good for him. But I turn away and concentrate on my brother instead.
It’s better for me to see this, better for me to accept what she really is. I forced myself not to talk to her last week, tried to tell myself I didn’t need or want her. But then I found myself nearing her office today. Okay, I’ll admit it. I want her. It’s as simple as that... if wanting anything, especially a woman, can be called simple.
“Did Blake say something to you?” Tyler asks. This catches my attention.
“What? So you can confide in Blake but not in me?” I’m surprisingly hurt by this revelation.
“No, Byron, it’s not that,” Tyler says. “It’s just that Blake and I have talked some. He’s... I don’t know, he’s so in love and easier to talk to and it makes me want something more. Don’t you ever want that?”
My gaze involuntarily turns back to McKenzie, who’s still holding hands with the mystery man, and my heart flares. “No.”
“I think you’re lying,” Tyler tells me. “I think you want it, but you’re afraid.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I growl. “I can have anything I want. And if it was love I wanted, I’d have it. In a heartbeat.”
“I don’t think so, brother. I think you’re afraid. Afraid because of what our mother was. But not all women are her.”
Before I can reply, someone comes up behind us. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, stepping close to Tyler, a clear sign of comfort.
“It’s not a problem,” Tyler replies. “I’ve been talking to my brother.”
“Oh, your brother!” she exclaims, and she turns shockingly bright blue eyes toward me. “I’m Olivia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Before I can stop her, she leans in and gives me a hug.
“What ever happened to handshakes?” I ask, and watch a shade of hurt enter her eyes. But she smiles through it.
“Sorry. I’m impulsive,” Olivia tells me.
“We’ll leave you to brood, big brother,” Tyler says. He stands and puts his arm around Olivia, and they walk away.
Apparently I ticked off my little brother. That’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make me proud of myself. The man sitting with McKenzie pushes back his chair, and that’s when I notice the stress on her face. What in the world is going on? Is the man breaking up with her? Things are over with McKenzie and me, but I still need answers. As I watch the man walk out of the bistro, I decide to follow him. The story of my life today.
The guy doesn’t make it far. About a block down the street he enters another place and sits. He orders a cheap beer, piquing my curiosity even further. I sit down next to him and order a top shelf whiskey. I notice the guy staring at it like it’s gold.
“Hey there,” I say in greeting as I down my shot, and the man practically drools.
“Hey,” he grumbles as he sips his beer. The fellow doesn’t look so good. What is McKenzie doing with a guy like him? He obviously has no money, so what good is he to her?
“Looks like you’ve had one hell of a day,” I say. “Let me buy you a whiskey.” I order another for myself and one for the piece of crap next to me.
“Sounds great,” the man says, instantly perking up as the bartender sets the glasses in front of us.
I decide I need to stay sober for this conversation, but I want the man drunk. So, while I keep ordering rounds, I quickly dump my own drinks in the potted plant conveniently sitting next to me at the end of the bar. The guy doesn’t even notice, he’s so focused on his own alcohol fix. After about a quarter of an hour, the man thinks I’m his new best friend.
“My name’s Nathan,” he slurs.
“Great to meet you, Nathan. What has you in here before five?” I ask as I hold my hand up to order another round. “Though it’s always five o’clock somewhere.”
“Women!” the man grouses.
