Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
There’s a booth at The Wayside behind a velvet rope reserved for my family.
Well, I guess it’s mainly for Beth, since Caleb and Mason like to venture past the rope to hit on women.
It’s a nice change to see Caleb park his arse at that bench for longer than twenty minutes.
Every time I glance over to their table, he’s staring at his phone while Beth seems to be talking nonstop.
“Hey, Mason.”
I look up from the beer I’m pouring to see a woman sidle up to my brother. There’s already another woman on the other side of him that he’s been chatting up for the last five minutes.
My brother looks over his shoulder with his signature side smile. “Hey, sweetheart. How you doing tonight?”
“Better now that I ran into you.”
I roll my eyes as I put the first beer aside and pour another.
“Ah, excuse me. We were talking here,” the blonde sitting with my brother says with a sneer.
“It’s alright, ladies. There’s plenty of me to go around.” With a heavy sigh, I pass the two beers to my customer, moving on to the next person in line.
“Hi, can I get two mojitos, please?”
I nod and move over to the register to punch in her order, then place the card reader on the bench in front of her.
“Well, you’d only need me to be completely satisfied,” the first woman says, while my brother seems happily caught between the attention of the two women.
“Same here,” the second one challenges.
I pull two glasses out and fill them with some lime slices, mint, and sugar, then gently muddle them to start the mojitos, looking up every so often at my brother.
Mason looks down at his watch. “It’s still early. Who wants to go first?”
My face scrunches with disapproval, and by the martini thrown in my brother’s face, I’m guessing these women didn’t really like that one either.
Mason wipes his face, then swivels on his barstool to face me as they stalk off. “Tough crowd.”
“I’m not convinced we’re related if you ever thought that was going to go over well.”
“Hey, it’s happened before! I just read the vibe wrong.” Mason sniffs, fanning his shirt from the drink he just copped.
“You took—actually, I don’t want to know,” I say as I pour in the white rum and then top the cocktails with soda water.
I hand the woman her drinks, and she’s about to walk away before she looks between Mason and me.
“Just so you know,” she says to my brother, “most women don’t want to compete for a man’s attention.”
Mason looks over at her, and with a quick up and down glance, he swivels his seat in her direction and smiles. “Oh, I know how to give a woman my attention.”
She smiles. “Yes, and there’s still an olive in your collar from the last time you did.” She walks away victorious while Mason looks down.
“Why don’t you go sit with Beth and Caleb? Stop causing trouble in my bar.”
“But, I’m so lonely,” he teases.
“I highly doubt it, Mase. You have two siblings you can annoy.” I point my head over to the booth, noticing Tenley has now joined them.
“Look, Tenley’s here.”
“Ugh, girl gossip. I get enough of Beth at work.”
I pause, looking him over. “Do you actually feel lonely?”
Mason is perpetually upbeat. He can make friends in every crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy down, and even when things don’t go to plan, he’ll find a silver lining somewhere, determined to cheer up the people around him.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. It’s a busy Saturday night, but looking down the bar, my staff have it covered for a few minutes, so I fold my arms over the counter, leaning closer to him.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Mason shrugs, caught in his thoughts for a moment. “Do you remember Christy?”
“Your high school girlfriend?”
He nods, looking down at his hands. “She got engaged.”
Mason’s twenty-nine, so I assume it’s been a good eleven years since he’s seen this girl.
I think they were together for a year, but I didn’t think he was pining after her or anything.
He’s certainly acted as if he’s moved on.
Especially if the two-for-one invitation from earlier wasn’t a new thing for him.
I take a breath, trying to be sensitive to how my brother might be feeling. “Were you holding out for her or something?”
He looks up at me with shock. “What? No. It’s just that, when we broke up, she said I wasn’t marriage material. I was eighteen, and I took that as a compliment.” He picks up a napkin from the holder beside him and opens it up, then starts rolling it against the bartop.
“A few people from school have started to get married and have kids, and that just hasn’t been on my radar. With Christy getting engaged, though, I’m wondering if she was right. Am I not a guy you settle down with? I don’t know if that bothers me or not, but I just can’t shake this feeling.”
“Mase, you would drop anything for your family and friends. You’re kind, you’re uplifting to be around, and you don’t judge people. I think if you wanted to be in a relationship, a woman would be lucky to have you.”
He nods and starts twisting the napkin tighter between his fingers.
“If it really bothers you, why don’t you start dating? Not just sleeping with people, but actually getting to know them. And not anyone like Christy, because she’s clearly not the kind of person who’s meant for you. There is a person out there, if that’s what you want to find, though.”
He places the napkin on the bench, only now it’s somehow fashioned into a rose. “That’s not bad advice, brother.” He smiles and looks back over at Beth and Tenley’s direction. “Hey, isn’t that Isabelle?”
My pulse halts before it turns sluggish as I whip my head around.
My chest pounds as I take in Isabelle sitting at the booth, throwing her head back in laughter.
Her hair is tied up with a blue scarf. Thick pastel blue straps rest against her shoulders.
I love the way she dresses. Everything is sweet and enchanting, exactly like her.
“Yes, it is,” I say absentmindedly, appreciating the view until some guy walks over to the booth and starts chatting to the girls. He’s leaning over the back of the seat, talking right into Isabelle’s ear.
“Dude, you look like someone just cut in front of you in line at Grumps-r-us.”
I look at Mason, then back at the table where Isabelle sits.
“I think the girls need their drinks topped up. Wait while I do up a round.”
Mason crosses his arms over the counter. “What are they drinking?”
I grab the bottle of pear vodka and three martini glasses. “French pear martini. Beth’s latest obsession.”
“Ooo, make me one.” Mason smiles as I pour some sugar on a dish, then coat each of the rims with lemon, raising an eyebrow at my brother. “Please,” he adds.
I grab a fourth glass, then mix up the ingredients for the cocktails. I slide two over to Mase and pick up the other two myself, along with a whiskey for Caleb.
As we make our way over to the table, I keep my eyes on Isabelle and the guy still leaning over and talking to her. She’s sitting right next to Caleb. Why hasn’t he assumed she’s there with him? Could be because my brother has his nose buried in his phone.
The guy looks nice enough, I guess. I’m sure Tenley is more his type, though.
Even my sister. She’s great. I’d be more than happy to introduce them.
Just move away from my… Isabelle. Damn it.
This possessiveness I have over her keeps popping up, and I can’t understand why.
It’s not just because she’s pretty. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
But I’ve met plenty of beautiful women over the years.
There’s just something about Isabelle that feels like mine.
“Sup, ladies.” Mason grins, sliding into the booth beside Beth and Tenley, leaving Isabelle’s other side perfectly free for me.
“Sup? The nineties called, they want their catchphrase back.” Beth looks at our brother like some queen bee, totally unimpressed by his lack of cool.
The guy talking to Iz slowly stands up, taking me in. Trying to figure out my significance here. I don’t know myself, but I do know he’s not getting in my way.
I drop into the seat, then slide a martini over to Isabelle, my eyes on the guy the entire time. “Refill for you, Buttercup.”
That gets my brother’s attention. He manages to look up from his phone long enough to give me a perplexed look. His lashes blink rapidly, looking larger and even more unamused as they’re magnified behind his glasses. I push his whiskey towards him, silently daring him to say anything.
“Thank you.” Isabelle’s sweet voice pulls my attention back, just in time to see a light blush coat her cheeks and just a hint of her dimples. The tension curling in my gut eases immediately.
“I didn’t realise you did table service, Henry,” Beth teases.
“Yeah. I didn’t realise you acknowledged our existence if we’re not sitting at the bar. Wonder what made you come all the way over here?” says Caleb.
I purse my lips at my sister, ignore my brother, then take a sip of the martini in front of me.
“Hey, I said I wanted one.” Mason pouts. I roll my eyes and push it towards him instead. He folds his arms over his chest. “You already drank that.”
“Just turn the glass around.”
Mason huffs, twists the glass around, then takes a sip from the side I didn’t touch. “Ooo, yummy.”
“It was nice talking to you, Isabelle,” says the guy who can’t take a hint. “Maybe I’ll see you on the dance floor later?” Seriously, dude. I’m right here.
Isabelle smiles politely at the guy and nods, the long chain earrings I’ve seen her wear a few times tinkling as she moves.
“Don’t worry, we’ll definitely be out there,” Beth says, and I kick my foot out to shut my sister up.
“Ah!” Tenley yelps, looking over at me with wide eyes. Whoops.
Beth shrieks, then leans under the table. “What was that for?” she glares at Tenley.
“I think the first one was for you.” Both women look over at me, like I’m the biggest dickhead. Yeah, I know.
A boot kicks my shin. “Dude, what the fuck?” I blanch at Mason.
He shrugs. “What? I don’t understand their games.”
I scowl at him then look over my shoulder and notice the line at the bar is looking too busy.
“I gotta get back behind the bar,” I announce to the table, gripping the seat back as I slide out of the booth.
Isabelle shifts along the seat, taking up some of the space where I just was. Before I pull away completely, I turn my head to the crowd but keep my lips hovering by her ear.
“Don’t dance with him.”
She shifts, bringing our faces mere inches from each other. Her eyebrows pinch together, eyelashes fluttering in confusion. Now I feel stupid for even asking. My cheeks feel hot as I flick my tongue over my lip ring. Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?
“I won’t, Grim.”
I freeze, meeting her eyes. She’s called me that once before. In Royal Harbour. What does she remember from that weekend?
A small smile graces her face and my fist squeezes the leather seat back, trying to stop my knees from weakening at the sight of that smile, that promise, all for me.
I nod, and it feels like a deal has been made.
As I step through the crowd, a riot of thoughts tumbles through my brain.
It’s been longer than I can remember since I truly wanted something for myself.
Had something to feel selfish over. But the things I crave from Isabelle, the things she seems to offer me, I can’t help but feel like I’m on the right path.
I don’t know where it leads, but I want to follow it.
I just don’t know if I should.