Page 1 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
ChapterOne
Carter Deveraux was going to kill his sister. No more blind dates, no more harassing him till he agreed. He wouldn’t have to put up with Emma’s pestering because she wouldn’t be around to pester him anymore. He would make sure of it.
“Carter?”
The woman standing beside his table had to be at least half his age. Maybe more, given he would be fifty in a few months and she didn’t look like she was out of her teens. That might just be the clothes, though; the barely knee-length plaid skirt she wore was more suited to a Catholic schoolgirl than a dinner at a restaurant listed in the top ten of New York City. Come to think of it, so was the tight white button-down. And God almighty, she was wearing knee socks.
Thank God he hadn’t taken her to the Prime—Linc would never let him hear the end of this.
He belatedly realized he was still sitting and came to his feet. “Chloe?” Was that the name Emma had given him? Or maybe it was Zoey? All the women she’d set him up with were starting to run together at this point, which probably meant he should take a long, long break from dating.
As he pulled out the woman’s chair, trying hard not to stare down the deep vee of her open shirt, he amended that thought. A permanent break would be best, at least if it was Emma engineering the dates.
“Zoey.” She smiled up at him, her lips a soft pink that reminded him of his cousin’s youngest daughter. He tried hard to shake that thought as he returned to his seat.
“I apologize, Zoey. It’s nice to meet you.”
Their waiter came by with the bottle of Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc he’d ordered before Zoey arrived, and Carter resisted the urge to card his own date to verify her age.
And he’d thought having a ten-year-old son made him feel old. He couldn’t resist rubbing a hand over the beard that covered his jaw—a beard that was more white than dark blond these days—as he stared down at the menu. Emma had to have set him up with Zoey just to mess with him. This wasn’t about making up for Carter being alone while Thad was with his mother for the weekend. This was about Emma fucking with her older brother, and when he finally escaped this nightmare of a date, he was going straight to wherever his sister was and strangling her.
After they ordered, Carter poured Zoey a glass of the wine, sticking to water himself. “Where did you say you knew Emma from?” His sister seemed to know everyone and made friends as easily as other people breathed.
Zoey fingered a strand of her silky blonde hair, which he had to admit was eye-catching as it fell over her shoulders. “We met at Zen.”
Of course they had. Emma’s favorite bar, right around the corner from her apartment. Sometimes he thought she spent more time there than she did at home. Of course, she didn’t cook, so Zen’s above-average kitchen made meals convenient. And everyone loved her there. Literally the entire bar lit up when she came in.
That was his sister for you. Life of the party—and the source of trouble, always.
“Oh. When was that?”
“Last week.”
As Zoey told the story of meeting a group of friends at the bar, then striking up a conversation with Emma over martinis, he resisted the urge to lecture her on the dangers of trusting people in the city, particularly on dates. He wasn’t her parent, after all.
Not that she seemed bothered by their age difference. She was currently fingering her wineglass as she stared up at him adoringly. That look had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“So…you’re a daddy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m a father, yes.”
She traced the soft curve of her glass, the long pink tip of her fingernail matching that baby-pink lipstick. “Do you believe in corporal punishment?”
He choked on the swallow of water he’d taken just to give himself something to do with his hands. “Do I what?”
She glanced up at him from beneath unnaturally long lashes that framed soft, innocent-looking blue eyes. “You know…spanking.”
His lips tightened. He really was going to strangle Emma. “No. No, I don’t spank my boy.”
“Boy?” Zoey straightened in her seat, the flirtatious facade falling away in favor of a confused pout. “You have boys?”
“I have a son.” Surely Emma had told her. Oh, not details about Thaddeus, of course, but that he had a child.
She tilted her head, and a lock of golden hair curved over one side of her face. “But have you ever wanted a baby girl?”
“Sure, maybe.” Although he was getting a bit old for that. His ex, Rachel, hadn’t wanted children until her career had been well-established. She’d also been ten years younger than him. Bringing home a newborn was a totally different thing at thirty than at forty. He was definitely feeling his age with Thad rapidly approaching his teen years.
At least his son hadn’t decided he was too old to cuddle with his old man yet.
