Page 21 of Those Two Words

“Thursday it is. Pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date.” I lean in and flutter my eyelashes at him.

Just then, the restroom door swings up, and we turn to find Patrick standing in the doorway. His eyes sharpen as they dart between Dex and me, his jaw ticking in irritation. It’s then I notice how close we’re standing, but I don’t move away, and neither does Dex, who has a weird smirk pulling at his lips.

“Am I interrupting something?” Patrick asks brusquely, with a look that gives nothing away.

This day might have started off great, but seeing his stupid, handsome face reminds me how hard he’s been trying to avoid me at every turn. I walk into a room; he finds an excuse to exit it. I’ve tried not to let it bother me, but whenever he refuses to acknowledge my presence, a piece of hope I clung to over the years falls away.

So, this whole giving-a-shit-all-of-sudden thing he’s got going is not going to fly. No sirree.

“Pat! You sure are, just catching up with Jo here.” Dex throws an arm around my shoulder and ruffles my hair. I take a little bit of satisfaction in seeing Patrick’s jaw work overtime. I hope he cracks a tooth. “Managed to score a night of fine dining with her. Isn’t that right?”

He looks down at me and winks, suddenly becoming very flirty and nothing like the friendly banter we’ve been tossing back and forth all morning.

“Umm…” I look at Patrick, and that passiveness is long gone, because he’s looking at Dex in silent warning. The subtle widening of Dex’s eyes triggers a lightbulb moment, and I know to go along with the rouse. “I mean, if you’re paying,” I reply innocently.

“I always pay for my dates.”

Even I’m momentarily distracted by the smoothness in Dex’s tone, however, when the heat coming off Patrick’s glare warms my face, I take a small step away.I don’t want to poke the bear too much.

“Right, well, as much as I hate to break this up, I have work to do in the office, and Jo should be opening up in”—Patrick glances down at his watch—“forty minutes, so she better get a move on.” His gaze morphs from fiery to stony when he glances at me. “The rep from our wine supplier is coming in at one o’clock. Don’t forget.”

Dex laughs, shakes his head, and begins to pack up his tools. He can’t seem to believe the fucking nerve of Patrick’s dismissive tone either. He might find it funny, but me? I am trying to find my inner peace and not say what I’m thinking out loud.

Which is, You’re a massive asshole!

Instead, I put on the fake smile I’ve been using around him and push down the sassy attitude. “Sure, boss. I’d appreciate if next time, you talk to me, not through me,” I say and give him a salute. Maybe the sassiness wasn’t completely bottled away, but he hasn’t bothered to utter more than a few curt words to me since I returned, and now he decides to start spitting orders at me. I think not.

I whip around and give him my back, hoping my long ponytail flicks him right in his dumb face. I look at Dex and give him a wink of my own.

“See you next week, Dex.” With a pat on his chest, I turn to walk out of the restroom, not even sparing Patrick a glance.I swear Dex mouths, Good job, before I walk out.

Once the door to the restroom closes behind me, I check no one is around and raise my middle fingers at the door before stomping away.

eleven

PATRICK

She shouldn’t look so cute marching out of here in a huff, and I spend too long watching the sway of her hips as she does it. Once the door slams shut behind Jo, I whirl on my best friend.

“What the fuck was that?” I demand.

“What was what?”

I know he’s playing dumb right now. And from the smug look on his face as he closes the latch on his toolbox, he knows he’s got me all riled up.

“You know what. You were all over her. And a date? She’s like your sister; you practically grew up with her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there a rule that we don’t sleep with women who are like sisters to us now?” he asks with a shrug of his shoulder. “She looks good, too, don’t you think?”

Dex has been conspiring with my younger brother, I’m positive. I inwardly cringe at my behavior minutes ago. I might as well have beat on my chest and claimed her as mine.

“What are you getting at, Dex?” I ask.

“Nothing, nothing at all. Just catching up with an old friend. I’ve missed her. Haven’t you?”

“That’s irrelevant, because she clearly didn’t miss us.” I try and fail to hide the pain lacing my accusatory tone.

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