Page 70 of The Wildest One
“And the same with Toro?” I asked. “The social media hype for both spots hasn’t died down, has it?”
Eden sent reservation numbers every Friday, but I hadn’t looked at them at any point last night or today.
Time wasn’t the issue.
It was that my head just wasn’t in it.
My sister, already facing me, put her hand on my forehead as though she were checking my temperature. “It’s Saturday night, Beck. We’re a bourbon deep. And you want to talk about work?Now?” She pulled her hand away, but her stare didn’t lighten at all.
“He doesn’t want to talk about work,” Walker said from behind the bar as he stood in front of us. “He’s fucked up over something and trying to get his mind off it.” He nodded toward me. “Look at him.”
I didn’t know if Walker was out of the kitchen for the rest of the night or if he was just taking a break, but his sleeves were rolled up, his chef’s whites were unbuttoned at the top, and there was a drink in his hand that he was sipping from.
“Let the dude breathe for a second.” Hart’s arm briefly brushed mine while he lifted his old-fashioned. “He starts a whole new season of hockey in a couple of days. He’s inside his head, and that’s where he should be. That’s why he’s being quiet.”
I stared at each of my siblings. “I’m not a fly on the wall, you know. I’m sitting right here.”
“And you’re acting weird as hell,” Eden offered.
Where was all this coming from?
“First of all,” I started, “I’ve been here for five minutes. I don’t think I’ve been quiet at all?—”
“You’ve been quiet,” Eden countered.
I glanced from her to Walker and said, “And what’s wrong with the way I look?” I glanced down the front of me, rather pleased with my outfit. The shirt had been sent over, along with about fifty others, from a brand deal my agent had recently signed me up for. The jeans had been supplied by my assistant, who had probably worked with a stylist.
“Did you just finish working out?” my oldest brother asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We know you like late workouts when you’re in offseason.”
I pulled the bottom of my button-down to straighten out my shirt. “Yeah.” I then moved to the collar, making sure it wassitting right. “I’m not even going to ask why that’s a detail you remember.”
“After your workouts, especially when you’re getting ready for the season, you usually wear a pair of sweats and a hoodie.” Hart had his elbow on the bar, his body turned so he was looking at the front of me. “Tonight, you’re dressed up.”
I smiled wide without showing any teeth, my brows furrowed. “I’m in jeans.”
“But you’re in clothes—and not some variation of workout clothes,” Hart said.
I shook my head. “I’m at our restaurant. I should look nice.”
“That’s never stopped you from looking like hell before,” Eden voiced, running her finger around the rim of her glass. “In fact, last time you were here, you were in a hoodie and sweats, and the hood was actually over your head and?—”
“Jesus,” I groaned. “You all need to fucking relax. I don’t know why you’re all over me, but stop.” I shot back the second drink and set the empty on the bar top. “Fill it up,” I said to Walker, pushing the glass toward him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eden asked softly.
Soft was reserved for special occasions; she normally stayed in hard mode.
I focused my attention on her, studying her face. She was doing the same thing to me, but her stare was far more intense, like I was some fucking assignment and she was about to write a hundred-page paper on me.
“Are you giving me any other choice?”
“No,” Walker replied. “I think you know the three of us are going to dig like hell until you cave.”
I tapped my hand on the wooden top, restless since there was no drink to hold.
I knew the second I opened up about this, they would hit me with endless questions, and I had no answers. To save myself theaggravation, I hadn’t planned on saying anything unless Jolie showed up.
Then I would be forced to explain who she was.
