15. Miles
CHAPTER 15
MILES
“ T ell us more about your ex who’s going to be at the wedding. I assume you’re not on good terms with him.”
We’ve moved from the table to the adirondack chairs. Max brought out bowls of chocolate ice cream for each of us and is continuing his inquisition while we have dessert.
“His name is Rick, and no, the terms aren’t good.”
“Why was he invited to the wedding? Is he a family friend?”
Callie tries to look casual, but her jaw has tensed. “Apparently, he’s now dating the groom’s sister.”
“How long ago did you break up?” I ask.
Her brows lift as she looks my way, probably because I haven’t asked many questions. “A few months ago.”
“How do you want to play it?” Max asks her. “Should we pretend he’s not there, or tell him I’m a billionaire who’s swept you off your feet?”
She shakes her head, looking weary. “I don’t know. I’d like to be able to pretend he’s not there. I just want to get through it.”
“We’ll play it by ear, then,” Max says. “Are you available for dinner the day after tomorrow? We can do this again. We need to set up a backstory for our relationship.”
Callie swallows a spoonful of ice cream, slowly drawing the utensil from her lips. “I am available, but you don’t have to make dinner for me.”
She finishes her last spoonful, and I stand to collect her empty bowl. “We have to eat. It’s no problem making enough for one more person.”
“At least let me bring something, and can I help clean up tonight?”
“Bring a dessert if you like, and no need on the cleanup. It all goes in the dishwasher.”
“Well, thank you. I’d better get home and get to bed.” As she stands to follow me, the quick full-body stretch she does is reflected on the sliding glass door, and I pause to watch.
Ever since he saw Callie at the sandwich shop, my brother’s been giving me shit about my sudden devotion to yoga. I won’t admit it, but he’s probably correct in saying that I wouldn’t still be going to class if Callie weren’t the instructor.
She’s stunning, and getting to know her this evening has only made her more attractive. Her strength and her humor have taken me by surprise.
Once inside the house, she collects her bag and says goodbye. I rinse the dishes while Max, always the smooth one, walks her down to her car.
The differences in the amount of game we have were apparent from an early age. In my head, I’m as full of charisma as my brother, but responses from women make it clear that reality doesn’t match my expectations.
Max has always been the one to get the girl, not that we’ve competed for years. Women are drawn to him, and for the most part, I don’t mind. His natural charm earns him a lot of unwanted attention from admirers, and though he always lets women down in a way that leaves them feeling good, it seems like a hassle.
None of this matters when it comes to Callie, though. It can’t.
When he returns, he joins me in the kitchen, grabbing the sponge to wipe the counters, while I finish loading the dishwasher.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
He stops and stares at me. “Are you kidding? It’s an opportunity we can’t pass up.”
“I get that … but Callie could make things complicated, couldn’t she?”
“How so?”
My look tells him to cut the bullshit, but he stubbornly plays clueless.
I gather a handful of silverware and drop it with a clatter into the designated compartment. “You like her.”
His ironic laughter echoes off the wall in front of me. “I like her? I’m not the one going to yoga every morning, am I?”
“We can’t get involved with her, Max.”
“We’re not, Miles. We’re doing her a favor, accompanying her to a wedding. It’s a win-win.”
I turn to glare at him. “We need to be careful, or it could get messy.”