Chapter 7
7
WESTON
I catch a hint of her perfume, shocked she believes I’m Easton. It’s not an opportunity I thought I’d have, but I move forward since I’m presented with the opportunity. One day, she’ll instantly know if it’s me or my brother. We’re not there yet though.
“Weston tricked me,” she whispers, “which means he’s somewhere, watching me.”
That would’ve been smart because I could’ve watched her reactions. I did catch one glimpse of her, and I imagine her expression was the same one I’d worn when she was with Trever. There was nothing between them, but seeing her with him … fuck . It made me primal. I was ready to rip out his throat.
“I’m confused. Please explain.”
She scans the room, and I lift a brow.
“Continue,” I state.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say much more.”
She temporarily gives up on the search for me, then meets my eyes, and for a second, I think she might know I’m not Easton.
“Can you please avoid mentioning that you saw me here tonight? I don’t want to have to explain anything to Lexi yet. And I won’t tell her how the prime minister of Italy wanted inside your pants.”
Ahh, she quickly did her research like a good girl. LuxLeaks mainly features celebrities, pop idols, and billionaires with a cult following.
“To be clear, is it because you don’t want to explain that you’re dating my brother?”
She scoffs, then laughs. “Trust me, I’m only here to rate his dating skills. What we have is platonic.”
“Right,” I say, checking my watch. It’s an Easton trait since he’s a psycho about being everywhere on time.
“I’m not dating Weston,” she urges, making a face.
“Why not?” I ask. It’s a simple question, one I know she won’t answer.
“I thought you weren’t getting involved.”
She narrows her eyes. I might have pushed it too far.
“I’m curious.”
“You know why . We’ve talked about it several times,” she says. “It’s like you’ve forgotten. You forget nothing .”
My mind reels, but I don’t react. What does Easton know? What has he said to her?
“Oh, right. That ,” I state, rolling my eyes. The reaction is the correct one.
I stare at her for a few seconds longer, unable to keep this going. At some point, it’s just cruel.
I move to the opposite side of the booth. A few seconds later, a glass of bourbon is delivered, and I take a sip.
“You passed the test,” I say, repeating the same words she did to me last night when we almost kissed.
She stares at me. “Don’t you need to go home to your wife?”
“Last time I checked, I only have a soon-to-be ex -wife.” I stare at her with brows lifted, but she doesn’t understand. “I’m not Easton.”
“Wait, what?” Her face contorts .
“You suck. It shouldn’t have been that easy to fool you, Carlee.”
“I don’t believe you,” she mutters.
I lean forward, interlocking my fingers, admiring her. She’s absolutely stunning.
“Easton’s with Lexi. I can FaceTime him right now and prove it to you. But then you might have to explain yourself, considering we’re together. Or you can text Lexi and ask her what she’s doing.”
She pulls her phone from her pocket and begins typing. Seconds later, my phone buzzes.
I turn the screen to show her. “Is this the first time you’ve ever sent me a text without me engaging in the conversation first?”
She smirks because it’s a confirmation.
Of course I noticed how she never texts me.
“What if you two switched phones?”
“I would never leave my phone near him. Face recognition can’t tell the difference between us, and he’d read every word of our private conversations.”
“I have nothing to hide,” she tells me. “Do you?”
“Just our entire friendship,” I say, lifting my glass.
However, if Easton read our texts, he’d instantly know my secrets.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be here.” She glances around the room.
“The only reason we are is because you said yes. For once.”
She scoffs. “You act like I say no to everything.”
“You typically do. But it seems like that’s changing.” I lick my lips, unable to ignore how fucking pretty she is. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” she says, a blush meeting her cheeks. “This dress fits like a glove. How’d you know?”
I don’t dare tell her I could draw her from memory. “Lucky guess.”
This morning, I called Harper Alexander—my sister’s business partner at their fashion company—and asked several questions about styles. Based on Carlee’s body type, she helped me pick it out. Right now, she owes me a fuck ton of favors for all the help I’ve offered over the years, so she’s now my personal industry expert. I could never ask my sister. She’d pry for details, and I can’t explain what’s happening between Carlee and me. Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to articulate it.
Carlee picks up her martini. Anytime our conversation teeters on the edge of us, she avoids it. “I’m still processing that date. Wait, was it a date?”
“It was, but it felt forced. I refuse to waste time when things go off the rails. I don’t have the patience you had with Double-E .”
“Do you know her from Oxford?” she asks, well aware of my educational background. She must’ve quickly searched out Naomi and saw the link.
I meet her gaze. “No. We attended at different times. A-plus on the quick research because I knew you didn’t recognize her when we entered.”
“Guilty.” Her shoulders relax. “I just don’t understand.”
“What?”
“You didn’t try.” Carlee’s voice is low. “It’s the only reason I believed you were Easton. She made every advance, and you skillfully blocked each one. That’s out of character.”
“Is it? How would you know?” I question.
“Your reputation precedes you,” she says.
“Oh, okay,” I tell her. “You assumed how tonight would go, and I proved you wrong.”
She drinks her martini and empties it. The server drops another one.
“I just expected more from Mr. Playboy.”
“Hmm.” I replay the hundreds of dates I’ve had over the last year. “No one has made it past my one drink rule. Except you .”
“I’ve never gone on a date with you,” she confirms.
“What’s this?” I ask, glancing around at the couples in the room.
“Two friends having dinner,” she says flirtingly. “I’m disappointed because I thought I could tell the difference between you and Easton if we were in person. It’s so convincing. Lexi is good.”
I watch her over the rim of my glass. “It’s love. My touch is cold compared to Easton’s, completely void of emotions. She feels the difference. It’s not based on sight, just feeling.”
“Oh. That makes sense,” she says.
Carlee doesn’t stop watching me. I like being under her gaze.
“Just be careful because Easton can snap me on just as easily and is extremely convincing. He’s smart and a professional at avoiding questions and changing the subject. After he saw us together last night, he’s very interested in us , and he’s convinced you’re my secret girlfriend.”
“How do you know?” She almost looks worried.
“Brody told me Easton cornered him and asked a lot of question about us.” I lean forward, and my eyes flick down to her lips. “Now, it’s time to tell me what you’ve been telling my brother about me. Why do you believe I’m undateable?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” she asks.
“Clearly, it’s not.”
Her brows crease. “Look at me, Wes.”
“I am . I see you .”
Her face softens as my eyes slide from hers down to her mouth, following the diamond necklace that rests above her breasts. Her skin glows under this light, and she’s pure perfection. I take a mental snapshot of her, never wanting to forget her just like this. The candle flickers as shadows dance around us. I could stay here with her until morning.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, hushed.
“Because I can. Now tell me.”
She blinks a few times and clears her throat. “You only date women like Paris Hilton. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Rich. It’s your four requirements. Everyone knows this.”
Carlee looks at me like I’m misunderstanding. I’m not. I want to tell her to stop being ridiculous .
“Hmm. I thought you were smarter than that,” I quip.
“Huh?” She quiets like she’s scrolling through her memories, searching for clues.
“Your assessment is the bare minimum. But is it true? You can’t believe everything you read online concerning me, especially when the stories are sensationalized with a specific narrative about the character the media has created. Sometimes, I feed into it because it makes me feel like I have some control over what’s being said.”
The smile fades from her face, and her pretty red lips part. “They’re decoys.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Ah. There’s my smart girl.”
“You’re an actual genius.” Her eyes widen as she searches my face.
Laughter escapes me. “Now you’re flirting.”
“I’m shook. All this time,” she says, her pulse quickening.
“Years,” I confirm.
“How did I not notice before?”
“Because you choose to turn a blind eye to a lot,” I explain. “One day, you’ll see everything with eyes wide open. I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”
She tilts her head, not fully understanding that her denial keeps us apart because she’s not ready for a committed relationship. Not yet. I don’t know if I am either.
I’m tempted to wave my hand in front of her face as she zones out. “Still with me?”
“Yes. How do you explain the Weston Calloway effect?”
“Are you taking notes so you can add this to your How to Date Weston Calloway manual?”
She snickers. “Genuinely curious. You know I’d never share any of this.”
Another bourbon is set on the table, and my empty glass is taken.
When we’re alone again, I speak. “When things are on the rocks with whoever I’m dating, they always dye their hair as a last-ditch effort to keep me, believing our relationship won’t last because they’re not blonde. It perpetuates the tall tale. I don’t prefer any hair color. Brains over beauty. Some women have both. Most just want to fuck me,” I say to her.
“Wow. I’d never dye my hair to make a man happy. That’s ridiculous .”
“You shouldn’t. You’re flawless,” I say, tilting my head, capturing her in memory.
She places her hands on her cheeks. “You’re making me blush.”
“I know, but it’s also the gin at work.” I smirk, watching her, loving that I can cause this reaction.
Being with her is too easy. The way it should be.
Carlee licks her lips before taking another sip of her martini. “So, you’re aware of the effect you have on people?”
“Is this an interview?” I ask.
She chuckles. “A business meeting.”
“A date ,” I whisper. “And, yes, I know how my presence makes some act. I’m flattered, but it usually comes from a place where I’m being overly sexualized. Purely physical and nothing more.”
She inhales and speaks on an exhale. “Weston, you can have anyone in the world you want.”
I lift a brow. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks, staring me down.
“If you only knew.”
Our food is slid in front of us, disrupting us. Carlee picks up her fork and knife, and I glance down at my salmon and potatoes. I texted the owner my order before I arrived and had planned to have dinner with Carlee.
“That looks delicious,” I tell her.
Steam rises from our plates.
“Want a bite?” She carefully cuts the steak, and the diamond bracelet reflects light around the booth. Carlee scoots to the edge of the seat, holding out her fork with a slice of meat on the end .
“Watch out for wandering eyes,” I say, leaning forward and allowing her to feed me.
The eye contact is scorching, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. Carlee is aware of how this game is played, and I think she understands she’s more than just a pawn to me.
“Should I be concerned?” she asks.
“Considering the current rumors, probably ,” I say.
“Do you care?”
“Fuck no.” I pick up my utensils. “But don’t be surprised if more is posted about me after tonight.”
She gasps and stops cutting. “Wait.”
I raise my brows.
“You really think that was about us ? Do you think someone knows about Sluggers?” she whispers, concerned.
“Would you like the truth or a lie?” I ask, proud that she finally put the two together.
“The truth, always.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve hung out with regularly, but I have to admit, the secret girlfriend thing is a stretch.”
“Who knows about our meetups?” she asks.
“Brody. My driver. No one else,” I confirm.
“Do you think they said something to someone?”
“No, they’d never. I trust them both with my deepest secrets.” I don’t entertain the thought. “It’s nothing to worry about. As I said before, unconfirmed rumors.” I cut into my fish. “Would you like to try this? It’s very good. The best in the city.”
“Think I’ll pass,” she says, avoiding my plate. “It has eyeballs, and that kinda freaks me out. I’m not used to seeing that part.”
I chuckle. “You’re adorable.”
The server walks over. “How is your meal?”
“It’s delicious, but I have a tiny request. Is there any way you can have the chef remove the head?”
The server holds back a smile. “Absolutely, Mr. Calloway. Apologies. ”
“No, no need for that. Thank you for accommodating me and my date .”
“Anytime. I’ll also deliver another drink if you’d like.”
I nod, and the server quickly walks away with my plate. Carlee focuses on me as I toss back my remaining bourbon. She ignores my date comment.
“You didn’t have to send it back. I’d have survived.” She sets down her fork and places her hands in her lap, politely waiting for my plate to return.
“They’ll be quick. Continue, please. Don’t allow your food to get cold on my behalf,” I offer.
“Now you sound like my mother,” she says with a snicker, and her smile fades.
I know she hasn’t visited home in a few years, and she misses her family. During one of our Sluggers meetups, we discussed it. Her work schedule hasn’t allowed her the time off.
“I can’t figure out why no one is speaking about going on these shitty dates,” she says.
“Believe it or not, every woman I’ve taken out has had an incredible time. Each has wanted a second date. I set the expectation of only having one drink together. No one is ever rushed, and I give my undivided attention.”
“You only commit to one drink. How long does that last?” she asks.
“Usually around forty-five minutes, but never over an hour. Dating while going through a very public divorce is … different . Many believe I’m searching for a hookup or a rebound. I’m not. Within ten minutes, I know if someone is dateable or not. I’m currently on a strike-out streak.”
My headless fish is slid across the table, along with a new drink.
I smile. “Thanks again.”
“Yes, sir. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Chef Rallings says hello and sends his best wishes.” She bows like I’m royalty .
“Please tell him I said the same.”
She nods and backs away.
When we’re alone, Carlee smirks. “Does everyone treat you this way?”
“Everyone except you,” I mutter.
She finishes chewing. “When I was a kid, my older brothers and sister trained me not to be intimidated by anyone. There are no exceptions. Not even you.”
I can’t stop watching her as the candle flickers on the table.
“Does it bother you?” Carlee asks.
“Absolutely not. I prefer it,” I admit.
Her sexy little grin returns. “What is it that Weston Calloway is searching for in a partner? Maybe I can help you find someone for real.”
“I want a relationship with substance and real conversation. Someone who doesn’t try to be who they think I want. I married for lust the first time. Now, I want patient love. It’s important to me.”
She pins me in place with her piercing gaze. “I hope you find it, Weston.”
“I will,” I confirm.
“I want to believe love exists for me, but I’m beginning to lose hope. My bad luck with dating makes me want to fuck around and find out. I’ve been playing it safe for the past year, and I’m growing bored,” she admits.
I also know she’s three martinis in, and this is how she gets when she drinks.
Invincible. Outspoken. Flirty as fuck.
“Do it,” I say, wanting to take risks with her . “The only person stopping you is you .”
I notice how her pulse upticks in her neck.
“I kinda miss the girl I used to be. I didn’t take life so seriously. Men were disposable.” Her gaze trails down my eyes to my lips and along my jawline .
“You should stop that .” I take a bite of potatoes.
She rests her chin on her fist, batting her long eyelashes. “Stop what?”
“ Eye-fucking me, Little Miss Tipsy,” I say, knowing she needs the reminder before she takes it too far. “Don’t start something you don’t plan on finishing.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
The attraction swirling between us is undeniable. Dangerous, electric .
“What do you want in a partner?” I ask as we continue eating.
“I want to be with someone who makes me feel alive.” A bright smile touches her lips, almost as if she’s imagining it. “It’s been years since I’ve felt what love carries with it. The beginning, when everything is new and exciting. The falling-in-love part—it’s my favorite. I crave that.” She swallows hard. “Probably sounds pathetic.”
“No,” I whisper. “Only someone who’s experienced love understands.”
She nods.
“I have a confession,” I whisper. “I was super fucking jealous of Easton. Of course, I’m happy for him because I want the absolute best for my brother, but knowing he was experiencing what I wanted so badly, seeing him so damn happy, only reminded me of how alone I was. The isolation I’ve felt since filing for divorce wasn’t something I was prepared for.” I sigh. “It’s difficult to explain.”
Carlee chews on her lip. “I felt the same way but never mentioned it because I feared how selfish it’d make me sound. I’m stupidly happy for Lexi and Easton, and they deserve what they have. But it woke me up and made me realize life was changing. It’s a reminder that I’m not getting any younger, and after all these horrible dates, I’m losing hope.”
“The only saving grace for me has been our friendship,” I admit.
“Same,” she says .
We finish eating and continue chatting. Another round of drinks is placed on the table as our empty plates are removed.
“Dessert?”
She holds up her fresh martini. “This is dessert.”
“What number is that?” I need to know what I’m dealing with.
“Five?”
I burst into laughter. “ Great. ”
She twirls the straw in her drink. “Was tonight a complete waste?”
“It never is when I’m with you,” I mutter.
Our bill is placed on the edge of the table. I give the server my card, and soon, I’m signing my name on the bottom.
“Guess our night is over,” she whispers.
I slide out of the booth, holding out my hand for her. She looks up into my eyes.
I lean in and mutter in her ear, “Come home with me,” as I hook one finger with hers.
“Okay,” she whispers with a smile as I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her through the restaurant.
“Really?” I ask.
“It’s time for me to start saying yes,” she admits.
My grin widens, and it’s not lost on me that eyes are on us. No one knows who she is.
Carlee chews on the corner of her lip as she glances at me.
I’m so fucking happy that the night isn’t ending that I can barely contain myself.