Greg chose a very nice French restaurant for our date, it's a cozy, softly lit place set in the hills of Potomac. The wait staff is clearly passionate about their food, and delighted to have a young couple on a date that they can fawn over.
“So, how is it working for your stepdad?” Greg asks with a grin.
“You know, it's not that bad. I hardly ever think twice about it, really. He's all the way at the top of the company, and I’m all the way at the bottom, so we rarely interact on a day-to-day basis.”
“Speaking of being at the bottom, Roderick called me Steven yesterday,” Greg says, referencing Pierce's business partner.
I laugh. “No! Is there even a Steven working there?”
“Nope! That's the worst part. Who knows who he was thinking of…” He shakes his head remorsefully. “How come Pierce's son isn't working at Thornhill and Co.? Didn't want to work with his dad?”
“Um, the opposite, actually. Pierce is pretty hard on Nate...I feel kind of guilty about the whole thing because I think Nate wanted the internship, and then Pierce offered it to me to punish him. I tried not to accept, but Pierce insisted, and we’d just met, you know? I didn’t want to be rude. Not to mention, my mom and Pierce haven't known each other for very long, so I was a little taken aback by how quickly they’d gotten married…” I bite my lip. “Sorry, wow. I'm rambling.”
“It's OK, I get it. My parents are divorced, too.”
“Well, mine aren't actually divorced. They weren't married in the first place,” I clarify. But Greg isn't listening—he's squinting at the entrance to the restaurant.
“Speaking of…isn't that Nate now? Did you tell him we were coming here?”
“No, what? It can't be him,” I reply, turning around to look. But sure enough, there he is, with a brunette stunner on his arm. That asshole! There’s no way this is a coincidence—he must have overheard me telling my mom that Greg was taking me here.
“Brynn!” Nate says with a smile, leading his date over as the hostess trails them. “I didn't know you guys were coming here too! Greg, right? I'm Nate.”
“Good to meet you,” Greg says, shaking his outstretched hand.
“And this is Sophie,” Nate adds, indicating his date.
“Hey,” she says, glancing up for a moment from the cellphone in her hands.
“Did you all want to sit together?” the hostess asks. “We could pull another table over.”
I could kill her.
“What do you think?” Nate asks Greg, his grin at full-wattage.
“Um, yeah, sure, why not?” Greg complies. I quickly stand and make my way over to Greg as a waiter helps the hostess pull another small table over. I'm not going to sit next to Nate and risk a repeat of that thigh-touching incident.
“I'll let you two sit next to each other,” I explain with a saccharine smile as I take a seat next to Greg.
“We just ordered so you're not too far behind,” Greg says as the hostess hands Nate and Sophie menus.
“Could we get a bottle of Dom for the table?” Nate asks the waiter, who nods happily and scurries off.
“Oh, you don't have to—” Greg begins.
“No, I insist. We're interrupting your date here,” Nate replies magnanimously.
“I love champagne,” Sophie pipes up, finally putting her phone away. I narrow my eyes at Nate and he studiously avoids my gaze.
“So, what were you two lovebirds talking about before we got here?” Nate asks Greg.
“Nothing, really,” Greg replies glancing at me.
“You know, with your light hair, you two could almost be related. Cousins, maybe,” Nate observes, leaning back in his chair. I swiftly kick his shin under the table. I see his jaw tighten but he doesn't even make a sound.
“Oh my god, totally!” Sophie agrees. “I made out with my cousin once, but I didn't know he was my cousin at the time. But then it happened again…”
I glare at Nate as Sophie launches into her story, and he smiles back at me. It's going to be a long night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I spin around in Nate's desk chair as he shuts his bedroom door behind him. I've been waiting here, fuming, ever since Greg dropped me off twenty minutes ago.
“Jesus! What are you, a Bond villain?” he asks, genuinely startled.
“What were you thinking?! I know you did that on purpose to ruin my date, you fucker!”
Nate shrugs. “Come on, you really going to tell me you were having a great time before I got there?”
“Oh, so you were just helping me out, is that it? Greg was completely weirded out by the whole thing.”
“Sophie had a nice time.”
“Sophie, please! Where'd you find her? A high school dance?”
“I like her,” he says with a smug grin as he sits on his bed.
“Oh, really? So why aren't you with her right now? Couldn't seal the deal?”
His smile falters a bit. “Maybe I didn't feel like it.”
“Well, I guess there's a first time for everything. Just stay out of my life, OK?” I say, and stalk toward the door.
“I'll stay out of yours if you stay out of mine,” he counters.
I turn to face him, “Is that what this is about? You’re mad because I told you your mom called, so you try to ruin my date?” I hold out my hands in surrender.
“No, it wasn't that.”
“Then what? I don’t have time to play games with a crazy man-child.”
“I'm sorry, alright? I just didn't like seeing you with that guy…something about his face is just, so punch-able,” he says, standing up and walking over to me.
“Why? This is the second time you've come between me and a guy.” I hold up a hand to stop him from protesting. “And yeah, I know, Jackson wasn't a good choice, but that's not the case with Greg, OK? He’s a nice guy. So tell me, why do you care?” I challenge him as he looks down at me. There's a long pause as his pupils dilate, I can practically feel him struggling with the truth, but I refuse to move until he admits it.
“You know why,” he says, looking me in the eye, his voice low and husky. Before I know what’s happening, his arms are around me, pulling me against him. His urgency takes my breath away—his fingers reach desperately under my shirt, grabbing at my bra strap and expertly undoing the clasps. His mouth devours mine as he reaches back around my waist and picks me up effortlessly, bringing me over to his bed. As Nate puts me down, I realize my bra is hanging free in the back, and he breaks away from our kiss to rip off my top. He pauses to look down at my breasts curving out of my limp bra before diving into my neck. “Oh god, Brynn, I have to have you,” he groans.