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“Thanks. I have a date.”
Keefe sat back in his seat with a smile. “It’s about time. When is Liam picking you up?”
“He’s not picking me up, I’m meeting him. And it’s not with Liam. I’m meeting up with that guy who delivered those tile samples.” She couldn’t even look him in the eye and say it. She knew what he was going to say and quite frankly she didn’t want to hear it.
Keefe didn’t mean to give his sister a look but he couldn’t help it. “Liam’s going to be heartbroken when he finds out you’re going out with the tile guy.”
“He has a name.” Sophie’s throat went dry, so she poured herself a glass of water and downed it in one big gulp. After that, she needed to catch her breath.
“It won’t matter once Liam hears about this.” Keefe absentmindedly picked up a tile and flipped it over. “What is his name, anyway?”
To be honest, Sophie had forgotten his name herself and needed a moment to recall it. “Ollie. And you said you liked him.”
“I did like him. That doesn’t mean I want him dating my sister.”
“Why not? He seemed nice enough.”
Keefe shook his head. “Come on, Soph. It was always you and Liam.”
“Except for those few years I was married to someone else,” she reminded him dryly, adjusting the sleeve of her sweater.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. You should’ve never left Liam.”
“I didn’t leave him,” she countered, keeping her tone even despite the familiar ache his words stirred up. “I went to college, and so did he. We grew up and went our separate ways. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Who says?”
“They do.”
“Well, whoever they are, they’re wrong. You two are meant to be.”
She sighed and went in search of her handbag. “Knock it off, would you? Besides, it’s just a drink. Not an actual date.”
Keefe gave her a knowing look, one that said he didn’t believe a word of it. He opened his mouth, probably to keep arguing, but changed his mind and simply said, “Well, you can explain that to Liam yourself.”
“Why would I need to do that?”
Famous last words.
* * *
First, Ollie was late.
Not just five or ten minutes late, but nearly half an hour, leaving Sophie alone in the parking lot of the pub—the pub he had chosen.
Her patience was wearing thin. Why she waited for him that long she didn’t know but she certainly regretted doing so.
When he did finally decide to show up, he was high as a kite.
She hadn’t noticed it at first. She chalked up his sluggish speech to nerves, and his wide grin to charm. But it became painfully obvious when he knocked his drink over with an unsteady hand, spilling beer all over her jeans.
Fantastic. This is what she got for taking advice and putting herself out there.
Sophie sucked in a sharp breath, her temper rising to a boiling point as she stared down at the spreading stain.
Ollie laughed, like spilling beer on her was the funniest thing in the world.
Not wanting to make a public scene—which there most definitely would be if she didn’t leave right now—she grabbed her purse, stood up, and without a word marched toward the exit.
