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What was my life?
I could’ve been alone with Marigold right now. Yet here I was, dressed in a freaking suit with my brothers. I dressed up for work all week. The last thing I wanted to do was wear a jacket and a tie on a Friday night when I could be at home in gym shorts and a tee. I should’ve canceled. I should have cleared my schedule for the next week and waited for her call. For the first time in the history of our divorce, she’d invited me over, and, idiot that I was, I’d turned her down so I could spend the evening with the people I saw sometimes too often.
“I wish Adam was here.” Crew sighed and rested his chin in his hand. “Do you guys miss him too?”
Nathan choked on his water and pounded his fist against his chest. When he’d stopped coughing, he angled forward. “Didn’t you see him yesterday?”
Crew straightened his jacket and pulled at the cuffs. “Maybe. How would you know that?”
Pushing my salad around with my fork, I tilted my head and eyed him. “He sent us all a text. Told us not to let you borrow any kitchen appliances. Said you wouldn’t give him his toaster back.”
Crew gasped and splayed a hand over his chest. “Traitor.”
I sat back and shook my head at my youngest brother. He was ridiculous but also entertaining. Biting back a smile, I scanned the new restaurant. It was a modern Italian place designed by a local architect. One wall was floor-to-ceiling emerald-green subway tile with gold accents. Add in the lighting, and it provided the ambiance for the “perfect selfie.” Hence the reason one couple after another waited in line near it.
As I continued assessing the place, my attention snagged on a tall, leggy brunette near the end of the line. Her hair was curled in loose waves that she had pulled over one shoulder. Her short black dress hugged her curves and dipped down to her lower back, showing off the smooth skin there. My lungs seized, and I swore my heart stopped. Because I knew that back. I knew every freckle and wave of that spine. I knew the hips hidden beneath the fabric and the indentations that fit my hands perfectly.
What was Marigold doing here wearing that?
My heart had resumed beating, but at a pace far too fast to be healthy. It beat so loudly it drowned out all sounds around me. Heat crawled up my back and into my neck.
She turned, craning her neck like she was looking for someone. Us, maybe? Did she know we were here? Maybe Calla mentioned that Nathan was coming out with us, so Marigold thought she’d crash our guys’ night. If she’d done it to torture me, then her mission had been accomplished. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Off the way her legs would occasionally catch the light perfectly. Or how she unknowingly bounced to the elevator music playing around us.
I was prepared to wave a white flag, scoop her up, and run out of here without looking back. I wanted to throw down my man card and wax poetically about her beauty and the way she made my heart float in my chest. I’d do it right here in front of my brothers. Let them tease me about it for the rest of my life. I’d gladly take it.
I took a sip of water, garnering the courage I’d need to wave her down. But just as I set my glass on the table, her eyes widened and her red-painted lips stretched into a smile across her airbrushed cheeks.
So not for us, then?
Look away, Liam. Not your concern. It was easier said than done, especially when she looked like a shampoo advertisement come to life. She was sunshine brought down to earth. Magic in a physical mold. The cherry on top of a vanilla milkshake.
She was wearing the definition of a little black dress. I knew from experience how long it had taken her to curl her hair like that. And those pretty red lips? I had to fight the urge to storm over there just so I could run my thumb over the bottom one and—
No. No, Liam. Not now, not ever. I could work with her for the good of our kids and sit a safe distance away at soccer games, but by no means was I allowed to picture her in any kind of sexy scenarios. It was the definition of cruel and unusual punishment. Unfair to my future self, who was going to lie awake tonight at the thought of her in said dress.
She held her hand up tentatively and gave it a little wave. Was that red nail polish too? I shook my head. Focus.
A man who looked vaguely familiar popped around the corner, moving past the younger couples in front of the photo spot, and waved back at her. Dude was jacked. I mentally sized him up and compared our stature, wondering if things went south where I might end up. He had biceps the size of my head. His hair was buzzed and his eyes were light. He looked like a guy fresh out of prison who’d been wrongly accused. Or maybe like a young John Cena. Like a golden retriever on steroids.
Marigold held her hand out, and he shook it, smiling at her the whole time. I had to give the guy credit. He never once looked down at the tight dress that emphasized all her assets nor gave any pervy looks. He remained focused on her face, her smile. He wore a friendly grin back and kept a respectful distance. Okay. That made my fists unclench a little.
Who was this guy?
I racked my brain, running through a list of all the single dudes I knew. Then it clicked. The guy who’d called her while we were working on designs for the spring festival. Maybe another time.
I’d obsessed over what he might have wanted that whole evening. Now I knew. Orange Guy had asked her out. My ex-wife, who was apparently more of a smoke show than my dreams and memories allowed me to remember, was on a date with Orange Guy?
And I was supposed to sit here and not say a word about it? Supposed to just finish up a dinner with half of my siblings, wipe the corner of my mouth with this fancy napkin, and head straight home without a single glance back? That was the mature, rational thing to do. But I’d never been mature, and I wasn’t planning on starting now.
“Did you hear that?” Luke elbowed my side.
With a huff, I tore my focus from Marigold and Hank Whatshisface and turned back to the table. “Hear what?”
“We’re talking about new menu options at Romfuzzled. We’ll keep the classics for Layla, of course, but add in new stuff. What do you think?”
I gave him a quick nod. I couldn’t care less about the menu. Then I swiveled back and zeroed in on where Marigold had been standing. Only now the space was empty. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds great.” I picked my phone up off the table and fired off a text before the rational side of me could catch up.
I thought you didn’t really care for Hank the Tank?
