Chapter Four
Mikayla
Okay, so I’m drunk. I’m so drunk that I’m touching the sexiest man alive, and somehow, I haven’t jumped into his lap. I’m not kidding. He’s… the man is fucking gorgeous, and I called him grandpa! Grandpa! Why did I call him that?
The man is stunning. His coloring is unbelievable, baby blue eyes, black hair, tanned skin! And I just touched his biceps, and they’re huge! Huge!
In romance novels, they say stupid shit like…
his dick was so big I couldn’t fit both my hands around it.
Well, fuck that! No one wants to fuck a two-liter bottle of soda.
This man’s arms are like four of those bottles and hard as steel.
And—did I mention he’s huge! I need a fan! Or a cold glass of ice water.
He kinda smells bad. I’m not being a bitch, he does! Like a farm. It’s not great, but his body!
Why did I call him Grandpa?
Why did he invite me to sit with them? It was totally weird and also kind of nice.
Yep, today is my birthday. As a treat, Jack went online and found this steakhouse. Apparently, it’s the best steakhouse in the county. Since I was driving through—who am I kidding, I’m driving aimlessly at this point without a destination in mind, and Jack told me to go for it. So here I am.
He found Shirley’s and gave me money to have a nice dinner.
Jack has been really good these last three days. Mom has been calling me incessantly, and I’m tempted to block her completely. Every text and voicemail gets more and more cruel. She even had the audacity to tell me that she had done me a favor! It’s so fucked up; I can’t even begin to process it.
“Did you get anything special for your birthday?” Patrick asks me.
I blink as I concentrate on his words, I narrow my eyes, staring at his mouth.
“My brother gifted me dinner here,” I answer with a smile.
Fuck me, I’m so drunk, and I’ve barely had anything to drink. My lips feel numb.
I look at the wineglass and realize it’s empty. That’s still so lame! I’m drunk after one glass of wine.
“Your brother has to come up with something else ‘cause I’m treating you tonight,” Caine says. “Now what else did you get?”
“That’s it,” I answer. Which is super depressing.
Raquel did call to wish me a happy birthday. She’s in Austin, Texas.
Ah! I could visit her! I could visit her! Put that on my list of things to do!
I got a million texts from Cody until I blocked him. I also deleted him from all my socials and blocked him there too. Why is he messaging me? I mean really! Why? Is he that dumb?
And of course, the pièce de résistance, my mother! Or the woman who used to be my mother. Who she is now, I have no clue.
“Why aren’t you spending your birthday with your brother? Or friends? And I haven’t forgotten what you said about your mama, but we’ll get back to that later,” Caine says.
The man has a drawl! Like a real Texas drawl! I think he’s laying it on a bit thick for reasons I don’t really know because if I haven’t mentioned it, I’m drunk, but it’s so sexy.
I’m so lame! I’m ridiculous!
In your dreams, Micky! This guy isn’t an option for me! Get your head out of your ass, Micky!
“My brother is in Atlanta, and since my mom knows his address, I opted to not go to his place. He did offer, and I declined. Things haven’t been all that good between us anyway so…
” I trail off. “As for friends, I just broke up with my ex and not sure who my friends are anymore. My best friend lives in Austin.”
I’m over sharing, and this man is over asking. Why am I telling these men my life story?
Probably because I’ll never see them again, and it feels good to let this shit out! If strangers think my situation is insane, then I’m not crazy for being angry. Right?
“Your daddy really just pass?” Patrick asks softly, kindly.
He looks like a smaller version of Caine. It’s pretty obvious they’re brothers, even though they didn’t say. The biggest difference between them is their eye color. Patrick’s are hazel. And his jaw isn’t as sharp as his brother’s. He’s like a softer Caine.
“He did,” I say, nodding slightly.
I have to look up and away from him to stop myself from crying. I wonder when the tears will stop whenever I think about my dad.
“Were your parents divorced?” Patrick asks.
“No.” I simply shake my head.
“Did she really…” Caine trails off.
“Yep,” I say, nodding my head. “Happy birthday to me!” I announce, placing my hands on my chest and then opening my arms outward. Can you tell I’m being sarcastic?
Pamela comes back to the table with our salads, and I can’t help but goad Caine after she walks away.
“Psst, Patrick, do you think she did something to his salad?” I whisper, leaning over the table toward him.
Caine slams his utensils down and huffs. “For fuck’s sake!”
I giggle. It’s so easy to set him off!
“I don’t know,” Patrick says. His brow furrows, and he leans over the plates to inspect the salad. “Are those bubbles from the dressing, Caine?”
“Why did I invite you to sit with us?” Caine asks, side-eyeing me between clenched teeth.
“Because she’s hot,” Patrick says. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes as though his brother has lost his mind.
“I think that was a rhetorical question,” I say to Patrick softly. I pat his hand that rests on the table to cushion the blow.
Patrick looks over at Caine, who nods his head before shutting his eyes. Caine then drops his head and rests it on his hands. The poor man looks like he’s in pain.
“I’m sure the salad is fine.” I reassure him, lifting my fork and reaching for his salad.
“I think we forgot to put the Parmesan cheese on this! Be right back!” Pamela says as she scoops up the salad before I can spear a lettuce leaf with my fork.
I look up at Caine, wide-eyed. “Did that really just happen?” I ask, my mouth agape.
Caine looks at me and just blinks.
My eyes dart to Patrick when he takes a bite out of his own salad.
“How do you know she didn’t spit in your salad?” Caine asks Patrick as he places another bite in his mouth.
“Tastes good,” he answers with a shrug.
I can’t help it—I sit back, and I frown, my nostrils flaring in disgust. I’m floored. Gross!
“You’re disgusting,” Caine says.
“I am who I am.” Patrick shrugs his shoulders. The man even smiles and then winks at me.
Pamela returns with a new salad and places it in front of Caine. We both look at the salad and then back at Pamela. I don’t know about him, but I’m skeptical.
“Pamela, did you spit in my salad?” Caine asks.
I blink at the question. Direct and to the point.
“Of course not,” she replies, her face turning red. She toys with her fingers in agitation.
“Pamela, it’s Micky’s birthday, and she’s alone. We invited her to join us. And no, I don’t want a relationship with you, and I don’t want to date you.”
I can’t believe this is happening in front of me. Pamela opens her mouth to speak, but Caine raises his hand to stop her from interrupting.
“Pamela, darlin’ I’m really shit at relationships.
When I say, it’s not you—it’s me, I’m not blowing smoke.
I’m not boyfriend material. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or hurt your feelings.
That wasn’t my intention. Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time.
Did you do something to my salad? Cause Micky’s gonna eat it.
” Caine points to me and Pamela’s eyes dart in my direction.
“I promise that I didn’t do anything to that salad.” Pamela points to the plate in front of him.
I mean, we all know what that statement implies! Wow! I honestly thought that was a myth!
“Pamela, my steak is fifty-five dollars. You best not mess with my food,” Caine says.
The man looks pissed, jaw clenched; he’s even turning red.
And Pamela is blushing.
“Can we get another round of drinks?” Patrick asks, breaking the tension.
“I’ll be right back with those,” Pamela announces, lifting up a finger before turning away and running to the bar.
“You can’t drink anymore,” Caine tells me.
My face scrunches up, and I look at him in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I thought we already established that you aren’t my daddy.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could grab them and force them back in! Thank God I never called my dad daddy because for some reason—that word has lost all meaning!
Instead of saying anything else, I pick up my fork and stab his salad with it and then shove the leaves into my mouth. No, I don’t know why I’m eating his food and what’s more bizarre is he doesn’t seem to mind!
Caine leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Never call me daddy, ever again. Ya hear?”
I stiffen at the feel of his breath on my neck but force myself to nod my head. I think I just got wet!
“Now eat your food,” he says before snagging a cucumber from my plate and placing it in his mouth.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Somehow, this man has managed to make chewing sexy! Chewing! I hate chewing! The sounds actually give me anxiety! Yet here I am, staring at his mouth while he eats something crunchy!
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna use the little boy’s room,” Patrick says. He points his index finger toward the ceiling. “I apologize. That sounded way less creepy in my head,” he adds before standing and walking away.
Caine opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand. “Acknowledging it will only make it worse,” I whisper.
Caine nods and says nothing.
We finish our salads, and thank God, Pamela returns with our drinks. She puts them down, takes the salad plates and walks away without speaking.
“I will say this, as weird as this dinner has been, it’s also been really entertaining,” I muse aloud before grabbing my glass of wine.
My eyes widen in astonishment when Caine grabs the wine glass right out of my hand and puts it on the other side of the table.
“Excuse me?” I ask, exasperated, my mouth hanging open in shock.
“Weird, but entertaining,” he says, lifting his chin at me. “Now drink your water.”
Then the man has the audacity to boop my nose!