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“It's nice. Having a woman around here.” He frowns. “Even if it is a little bizarre to see Dylan with a woman – I mean more than flirting with a woman. I mean...” he trails off, clearly embarrassed.
“Don't worry about it. I know how flirtatious Dylan can be. It's cool. We're just...friends. I mean, we're like family.”
Family that can't keep their hands off each other, but whatever.
“He's Austin's best friend,” I add.
Dylan walks into the kitchen at that time, making me wonder whether he heard me prattling on to Mike and came in to save me.
“How is Austin?” Mike asks.
“He's...Austin. I think he's happy.”
“He's the most bad-ass guy I know.”
I return to washing dishes, rolling my eyes. My brother isn't really all that tough. Sure, he's a bodyguard, and he knows how to hold a gun and how to shoot it. And he knows all kinds of martial arts and...
Okay, my brother is a pretty tough guy. But to me, he'll always be the guy who played with me when I was strugglingto make friends because we moved around so much. The one who told me that there was nothing wrong with me when the kids at the new school refused to invite me into their already established cliques. He isn't a badass to me. He's my brother.
“Mike, you can head home if you want,” Dylan says. “Claire and I will finish up in here.”
Mike smirks and winks. “Sure thing, boss.” He turns to me. “Catch you later, Claire.”
“Bye, Mike.”
Dylan has a serious expression on his face when I look over at him. Did I overstep with Mike? Or is he thinking about Austin?
I smile at him, hoping to ease the tension that seems to have settled between us like a wet blanket. “What needs to be done next?”
“I'm going to mop the floors. If you can wipe down everything in here, that would be good.”
“Okay. No problem.”
I work quickly and efficiently, fatigue drifting in without the distraction of Dylan around. I'm hours past my bedtime, and now Dylan seems to have gone quiet. I'm going to pay for my lateness tomorrow. I just hope it's all worth it.
Just as I finish, a noise startles me. The jukebox is on again, a soft rock ballad playing through the speakers at a lower volume than usual. Looking up at the large, olden style wooden clock on the wall, I see that it's gone one-fifteen.
“Regretting your decision to stay out late?”
I startle as I hear Dylan's voice behind me. He's standing there with his legs spread and his arms crossed as I turn to face him.
“I haven't been. I'm starting to feel a little tired, though.”
I don't even want to think about the fact I have to be up for work in less than five hours.
“We can call it a night if you want.”
He's giving me an out, but I don't want one. I've stuck this out for the past few hours because I'm desperately looking forward to the next part of the evening. He was so flirtatious while he was teaching me how to make cocktails. Right now, however, he seems...distant. He has ever since he heard me talking about Austin.
I don't want him to be thinking about Austin. I want his hands on me, and his mouth. I want his cocky smile back and that wicked glint in his eyes that I'm growing to love.
“I don't want to call it a night, Dylan. I want what I came here for.”
“You do, huh?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Finally, his smile is back, but I can tell he had to work at it. That's fine. If he's making an effort to bury his guilt and concern over what Austin would think, I'll do my best to distract him from the thought of my brother's displeasure.
