Page 17 of The Temptation
“Oh, yeah,” I mumbled. That was true, and it wasn’t something I’d considered. They’d met Sawyer once or twice while I was at Harvard. They were well aware of his death. It had devastated me and left them worried about my mental and emotional state, all during my final year of undergraduateschool. Both of them had argued that I should take a year off and return later to finish my degree. I’d pushed on out of some twisted idea of upholding family tradition and the grand Sutton heritage. Now I knew I’d been running from my pain and had thought I could drown myself in my studies to block it all out.
Despite that rough past, I doubted they were aware of Simon, or at least not in any major way. “They know that you exist, but not in any great detail.”
“It’s probably a good idea that we stick as close to the truth as possible rather than risk it coming out later and tripping us up. We can say we lost contact over the years, but stumbled across each other after I moved to Cincinnati during the summer.”
“And what? We just started dating?” The idea sounded too far-fetched. How could I lose my mind enough to dare to date the little brother of my dead best friend? It was insane.
“Ugh. Why do you have to be so difficult?” Simon groaned. “We talked for a while. Got reacquainted. Hung out. Had drinks. Then decided to go on a couple of dates. We’ll say this is only our third date. That work for you?”
I grunted. He made it sound as if I were the one being unreasonable. This entire thing was unreasonable. I was going to be thirty-fucking-five this year. My parents shouldn’t be able to back me into this ridiculous corner of forced dating. The options for my career shouldn’t be limited based on whether I was married. What the fuck was this? The fucking Victorian era?
Of course, if it were, I wouldn’t have a man sitting beside me posing as my significant other. At least we’d made some progress.
My parents had never had a problem with my being gay. I came out to them my senior year of high school, and it seemed to take my parents five seconds to adjust all their plans for me, swapping out all the images of a bride at my side for ones of a groom. Their ease of acceptance was appreciated, but I wouldhave preferred it if they’d felt less concern about my love life overall.
“What do you think we did on our first date?” Simon prompted.
“No clue.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Simon glaring at me. His frustration was understandable. I wasn’t being all that helpful, and he was the one who was doing me a favor. Even if he might want to play the role of my boyfriend, it would have been nice of me to at least try to participate.
Without losing his cheerful tone, he continued, “Do you think it would have been a group date with Sebastian and Byron, or?—”
“No! Definitely not. My parents talk to Sebastian and his parents. We can’t risk Sebastian blowing this to kingdom come. When he’s excited, he doesn’t always think before his mouth runs.”
“That makes sense. I say you took me to the ballet on our first date.The Nutcracker.”
I nodded. That worked. I’d seen the Cincinnati Ballet performThe Nutcrackerat the Aronoff several times.
We continued to debate different options for the second date as I drove from the suburbs to downtown Cincinnati. The lights of the skyscrapers glowed ahead of us against a dark sky. A soft hint of something warm and spicy teased my nose. It took me a moment to realize that Simon’s cologne had gotten carried on the air blown out by the heater to my nose. There was something so enticing and unique about that scent. I couldn’t place it, and the smell only made me want to lean closer to him to get a better sniff.
Nope!
Not going to happen.
The kiss we’d shared at Declan’s was the end of my recklessness. It was not a line I was going to cross again.
I released a sigh of relief when we reached the parking garage and could get out of the car. The quaint Italian seafood restaurant I’d chosen was just a block away, but there was enough time to stretch my legs and rid myself of the nervous jitters before we saw my parents.
“Are you a hand-holder?”
My head jerked, and I gazed at Simon as he grinned at me. “What?”
“A hand-holder? PDA? When you’re dating someone, will you hold their hand in public?”
“Oh…I…no, not usually,” I stammered, spitting out an answer that was mostly true. Part of me wanted to be the type of person who held the hand of their significant other. I liked the idea of modest displays of affection in public. They were quiet statements of togetherness and allowed me to be possessive in an acceptable fashion. It was just that I’d never dated anyone who’d made me feel like Iwantedto hold their hand.
Simon let out a huff. “I guess we both knew you couldn’t be totally perfect.”
My lips twitched, but I batted away the grin. I was far from perfect. “I take it you like to hold hands.”
“Yes, definitely. Hot, rich guy like you? I’ve got to stake my claim for all the other gold-diggers to see.”
I groaned and relaxed in time for us to reach the restaurant. We stepped into the welcoming warmth and handed our heavy garments over at the coat check. After a brief pause at the hostess stand, we were whisked into the crowded restaurant to a table where my parents were already seated. As soon as my mother spotted us, she leaned in close to whisper to my father, and I could’ve sworn she said something about how young Simon looked. Wonderful. That was a wonderful start. But her smile brightened as we reached the table and my father stood.
“Mother, Father, this is Simon Miller. Simon, these are my parents, Oliver and Rebecca Sutton,” I introduced, praying the evening would go smoothly.
Simon extended his hand and shook my father’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He took my mother’s hand, squeezing it as he made a shallow bow over her hand, and she giggled. “Now I understand where Pierce got his lovely eyes.”
