Page 3 of Just Is Not Enough

We only get halfway there when Lanie spots someone and does a double take. Stopping next to a group of three guys, she leans close to one of the taller ones with neatly styled jet-black hair, a chiseled jaw, and the goofiest smile waiting to see what she is doing. She memorizes the 4-digit number on his name tag, looks up to smile at him, and saunters away like she was lazily browsing at the grocery store. The confidence that oozes out of her, it’s inspiring.

I take a quick glance at the other two guys instead of following her to the bar. The shorter one of the three is about my height at 6’ tall, average looking, but still attractive. He has a strange look on his face though, watching my sister and Faith walk away. The third guy is nearly identical to Lanie’s eye-catcher, except his hair is shaved short on the sides but the top hangs low enough to make you want to reach up and sweep it away from those eyes that feel like they’re burning right through my own. I break the stare first to avoid looking like a creeper.

Dear Goddesses, please let him be queer.

Chapter Four

My First Impression of Him

Luke

“Whowasthatlittleminx?”

Jackson practically whispers, his wide eyes stare at the trio walking towards the bar on the far side of the room. I don’t think I have ever seen someone with cartoon heart eyes, until now.

“Her number is 2759,” Dakota blurts out and smiles, proud of himself. “I glanced at it while she was eyeing you up.” Being four beers deep, I am surprised he had the wherewithal to think fast enough to look at her tag.

My brother sets forth on his mission to the bar closest to us where there are more kiosks, typing her number in to pull up their group. The event planners arranged the list to display all members of a group when entering any of their numbers in.

“Lanie, 25 years old, and she’s a nurse,” Jackson mumbles barely loud enough to hear over the music.

I look over his shoulder to see the rest of the group. Faith, 26 years old, hairstylist. The fiery, red hair fits her perfectly.

Last on the list, Kaden, 28 years old, Dentist. That explains the nerdy, doctor type vibe I got from him while in casual clothes. He lingered back with us after Lanie and Faith walked away. The piercing stare he had on me sucked all of the air out of the room. I had to cover up the search for oxygen my lungs ached for by pretending to take a sip of my beer. Those eyes were captivating. I’m glad he broke eye contact first because I couldn’t do it. I’m not gay, no doubt I like women, but I am not embarrassed to admit he is a very attractive man. It’s not the first time I’ve appreciated a man’s appearance, but that was intense.

He reminds me of the doctor Gabe told me he had a crush on when he was a teenager. When Gabe had mono in high school, his mom took him to an urgent care. He said the doctor was so gorgeous he purposely faked being sick so his mom would keep taking him back to see him. Gabe said that doctor was his first ‘never could be mine’ love and doctors aren’t supposed to be that hot. I’m guessing Kaden is that kind of dentist for some teenagers.

I glance at the last column next to Kaden’s name instead of following the guys to the bar next to the kiosk, ‘Sexual Orientation – Gay.’ Why does that make our encounter that much more interesting?

“Do you see her? I have to talk to her. What do I do?” Jackson’s rapid-fire questions are in sync with his emotions, looking everywhere at once when we step over to the bar.

Big brother to the rescue, I get the bartender’s attention to order him some liquid courage. “Can we get three shots of Tequila, please?” Forgoing the salt and lime, no time for that. One shot should be good enough, then we can go back to beer. I will not be held responsible for these guys vomiting at the end of the night.

“Be chill man, she’s obviously interested. We can walk along the perimeter around the dance floor. I’m sure we’ll find her,” I say, handing him the shot glass.

Jackson downs his shot and leads the way, determination in his eyes. It takes us a few minutes to spot them on the dance floor. All three wildly dancing together like no one is watching. My brother looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. Geez, this must be what the hippie aunts meant by “love at first sight” when they told me how they met. I’m not a believer in the notion. Poor guy doesn’t know what to do with himself. This should be fun.

“Dakota, I need you to distract the friend while I try to talk to her.” Jackson begs, not taking his eyes off the girl.

Dakota doesn’t miss a beat, “On it. What about her brother?” Bad wingman my ass.

“How do you know he’s her brother?” I question, wondering where he got that information.

“It’s right on her shirt. Am I the only one paying attention here?” Dakota sighs with frustration.

Not understanding, I step over to the other side of Jackson next to Dakota for a different angle. The front of Lanie’s shirt says, ‘He’s Just My Brother, You Can Hit on Us.’ Is that supposed to be a joke? I don’t get it.

“Well, with a shirt like that I doubt he’s the overprotective type willing to bite your head off for talking to her,” I try to point out something positive.

“Once we start talking, I’m sure he will get the hint and make himself scarce,” Jackson says, nudging Dakota forward to make their way to the dance floor.

I walk to the closest bar, taking a spot with a perfect view of the possible train wreck about to occur. If the redhead winds up slapping Dakota, the night away from menu planning for the restaurant will be well worth it.

Approaching the trio, Dakota slides up behind the redhead, resting his hands on her hips. He leans down close to her ear and says something to her. She turns around slowly, with a glare that could burn through a glacier, shoving Dakota hard. She yells something towards Lanie and Kaden over the music and motions like she’s okay, then stalks off towards the bathroom by herself. Dakota heads off in the same direction probably to apologize for whatever asinine thing he said to her. Called it. He may be terrible at hitting on women, but he got the job done.

Jackson is already by Lanie’s side, leaning in to talk to her. They start laughing at what each other said as Jackson joins in, dancing with both Lanie and her brother. Kaden turns to walk away when his sister grabs his hand and spins him back into them. All three continue dancing together but damn, I’m feeling second-hand embarrassment. Kaden isn’t a bad looking guy or dancer. Why has he not found another guy to dance with by now? Ugh, guess I should be a good wingman and help my brother while also saving Kaden from this awkward situation. How did I get into this position again?

“Hey, ‘Just the Brother,’ why don’t we go have a beer and let these two get to know each other?” I say, hanging my arm across his shoulders and leading him back to the bar I came from.

---