Chapter 29 Might as Well Douse Me in Flour #2
He wasn’t wrong. “Not sure if your relationship with Simone is really all that important in the grand scheme of things.”
He chewed a big bite of steak and swallowed. “Can’t hurt, though, right?”
I couldn’t argue with that. Honestly, I didn’t want to. While I had no intention of looping my brother in on Simone’s and my charade beyond just telling him about it, I wanted to get this dinner over with as soon as possible.
Simone stared at her plate and blinked furiously. My throat thickened as I realized she was warding off tears.
Of what? Frustration? Anger?
Sadness?
“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Simone,” Owen said. “Where are you from?”
“You know where she’s from,” I snapped. “I told you all last weekend.”
“I know where you said she’s from,” Owen countered before taking a sip of wine. “I don’t know where she is actually from.”
“I grew up in Vermont,” she replied while she pushed a bit of Wellington around her plate. She still hadn’t taken a single bite.
“So that part was true.” Owen stuffed another forkful of potatoes in his mouth. “What do your parents do?”
She finally looked up at me.
I nodded. “It’s fine.”
Her chin jutted out with a bit of defiance that made me want to kiss her all over again. “My mother died when I was young. My father’s a dairy farmer. We have a farm in Woodstock called Dandelion Farm.”
Owen paused. “Dandelion Farm? You know, I think I’ve heard of that.”
I could see the wheels turning in his head. If I had recognized the name of her farm from the list of bad mortgages he was handling, I knew he would in a second.
“We once distributed dairy products all over New England, so I’m not surprised.”
“Right, right, I remember now.” He gave me a pointed look.
Questions were coming. Since figuring out her connection to the farm, I’d been pulling strings left and right to remove it from the sale I’d ordered. It was proving difficult, but I was doing my best.
Now, Owen knew why.
I pressed a foot on top of his. Hard.
He turned back to Simone. “So, you volunteer at the hospital. What else do you do, gorgeous?”
Simone bit her lip at the nickname I knew was mostly to get under my skin. “I, um, was working at a bar in Back Bay, but I don’t anymore.”
“Well, who can blame you for that? That sounds fucking terrible.”
“I actually liked it all right. I enjoy working with people, and the tips were good.”
“But not as good as my brother’s.”
“Owen, you can shut the fuck up now,” I snapped.
“Brendan!” Simone reached over to rub my shoulder.
My brother held up his hands, chuckling. “I’m joking, man. Just a joke.”
Simone stood to get herself some water, and Owen made no secret of raking his eyes over her body in her relatively clingy pajamas.
I was ready to chuck him out the window.
“Well, now you can do some charity work or something,” he said once she returned to the table. “I’m assuming Brendan is paying you handsomely for your services, and you won’t need that job after this one.”
A hushed awkwardness fell over the table as Simone looked down at her plate again.
“Owen, I swear to God—”
“Actually, I think it’s a brilliant move,” he rattled on like he hadn’t all but called Simone a prostitute.
“All the benefits of an engagement, without the messy entanglements and emotions. And when it’s over, you can wrap it up in a bow without a nasty divorce.
” He shoveled more food into his mouth, and I continued to glare, hoping he’d get the message and leave.
“Plus, it’s not like the door needs to be closed for future ‘arrangements’ if you find yourself lonely one night.
The best escort in town is the one no one else knows about, am I right? ”
I exploded out of my chair, charged around the table, and yanked Owen out of his seat by his collar, then tossed him ten feet across the floor.
My brother slid, laughing, over the hardwoods. “Well, damn, Brendan. Look at you, getting all gallant on me.” He stood and fixed his tie. “But I’ll warn you—do that again, and I’ll break your neck.”
“I’d like to see you try,” I snarled.
Owen looked very much like he wanted to, but just as he leaned forward, Simone stood from the table too.
“That’s enough. Owen?”
He looked at her. “Yes, gorgeous?”
“Stop with the nicknames. And for the record, while yes, this is an engagement of, shall we say, convenience, it is an actual engagement. I’m not a sex worker, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making veiled comments about that.”
Owen didn’t look like he believed her in the slightest, but he bowed slightly. “Your wish is my command.”
“Brendan?”
I continued to stare my brother down. “Yeah, angel?”
Owen’s brows lifted at the term.
“Brendan.”
I turned to meet her gaze and my fury chilled. Just a little.
“This is between us,” she said. “I don’t need you to fight your brother for me. It’s not worth it. Not even a little.”
Those sparkly blues held me rapt until enough tension flowed out of my shoulders, and I released the fists I’d been clenching. “Okay. Owen, I appreciate your offer, but I think we got it. No need to pretend to be Simone’s friend. Or really talk to her at all. And by that, I mean fuckin’ don’t.”
My brother blinked for a few long seconds, then nodded with another smile. “Sure, sure. I’ll stay out of your way, and you stay out of mine. Are we clear?”
His eyes met mine, and all traces of joking vanished.
I knew what he meant.
The mortgages.
The Ventnor development.
Simone’s family farm.
“We can talk about this tomorrow,” I said through gritted teeth.
He bared his own teeth like a wolf. “Oh, we definitely will, brother. You can count on it.”