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I open my mouth, but Blake’s scoff cuts me off. “Debbie?”
“Yeah,” he arches one eyebrow. “Debbie Downer.”She works her jaw but doesn’t bother with a retort. Tyson looks back at me, reminding me he had asked me a question.
“I’m in a good mood.” I feel Colt’s focus back on me, but if I turn toward him, our faces will be close — too close.
“Good. Everything calmed down on the asshat front?” My stomach churns at the thought of Jett, but what’s more noticeable is how tense Colt just became. His spine is a little taller, shoulders a little straighter, and his hands are curled into fists.
“Nope.” I keep my eyes on the table.
“Really? You haven’t heard from him all week? That seems unlike him.” I look at Blake, begging her with my eyes to keep her mouth shut like she promised. I don’t want to get Tyson and Colt mixed in with my drama anymore than they have been. She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, letting me know once again that she thinks it’s a horrible idea. But she’s my best friend and is more loyal than anyone I know.
“Guess he’s done with me.” I shrug.
“Huh. Well good.” Thankfully, he seems oblivious to the situation on my face. Tyson picks up his menu and the rest of us follow suit. But Colt only uses his as a shield as he leans over to me.
“Tyson may believe you, but I don’t,” he says in a low voice. He’s so close I can feel his breath on the side of my face, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Not when it’s obvious that he can see right through my makeup. Right through me.
“Good evening, everyone,” the hostess says rather loudly. “Thank you for dining with us tonight. What can I get for you all?” She asks the table, but is only looking at Tyson.
Blake’s face contorts. “Aren’t you the hostess? Why are you waiting on our table?” Her eyes narrow at the girl, causing her to give a small cough before she smoothes out her apron and recovers.
“Yes, I am the maître d,’ and as such, I like to make sure our most important guests are well taken care of.”
“Is that so?” Tyson cuts in with his charm at full throttle.
“Absolutely, Mr. Miller. I’m here to make sure you have the best experience possible.” Her smile takes over her face as she bats her eyes at him. God, where is her dignity.
“What did you say your name was?” I watch as his eyes roam her body, causing me to squirm in my seat. Being in the middle of this feels dirty.
“Haydenn with two n’s.” I’m going to throw up at the amount of flirting going on in front of me.
“Well, Haydenn with two n’s, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Tyson winks at her.
We all order and the girl reluctantly leaves our table. “That was appalling,” Blake says to no one in particular.
Our side of the table remains silent through the rest of dinner as we listen to Blake and Tyson make jabs back and forth. And when Tyson pays the bill, I all but run to the exit, ready to be away from the whiskey gaze that has been on my cheekbone all night. I thought it would be nice seeing Colt again. And while I’m not complaining that I’m in his company, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting.
11
Listening to Tyson and Blake bicker for the last two hours has been torturous. And I thank God my sister and I aren’t like that. What’s more painful than the Miller siblings going at each other’s throat though, is not knowing what the hell happened to Libby’s face. I know who, but I need to find out how. How the fuck was he able to lay a hand on her? And who the fuck made him think it was okay?
Walking out of the restaurant, I eat up the space and fall in step with Libby. “You’ve been quiet,” I say, leaning closer to her ear so I can keep my voice low. I don’t want either Miller cutting into this sliver of time I’m getting with her.
“I’m not much of a talker,” she quips, her eyes flicking to me for only a moment. But it's not enough. I need more of her attention. More of her.
“It was a little hard to get a word in with Thing One and Thing Two going at it.” She gives a quiet giggle and my heart melts a little.
I’ve been dying to see Libby again. The last week has been the longest of my life. Work has been busier than normal, which helped in keeping my sanity in check and not showing up at her doorstep on day two. Owning your own construction company makes it hard to check out in the middle of projects. But when Tyson mentioned Libby was coming with his sister to dinner, I may or may not have invited myself.
Getting back to our cars, Blake and Tyson don’t say two words to each other as they part ways to their respective vehicles. Wanting to draw out our time together as much as possible, I take a long stride and pivot on my heels so I’m in front of Libby. “I’m happy I got to see you tonight,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.
Her eyes drop to the ground before returning to meet mine, fiddling with the buckle on her purse as it hangs at her waist. “It was nice to see you, too.” Libby’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, except where her fresh bruise is that she’s tried to hide under her makeup. My blood heats before Tyson chimes in.
“You coming to my game tomorrow, LB?” He shouts from where his Audi is with the windows down.
A trace of a smile spreads across her face as she turns towards him. “Tyson Miller, you know I don’t like going to those things.”
“Oh, come on,” he whines, “you haven’t gone to one for over a year. I need my good luck charm.” He winks and I try to suppress the anger that boils from him being so flirty with Libby.
