back around. “Whatever game you’re playing with your brother, whatever kind of sibling rivalry you two have going on, do me a favor and leave me the hell out of it.”
I’m out the door without another glance back.
As I’m pushing through the office’s main double doors, I swear I hear a male voice loudly bellow, “fuck!” from the direction of the conference room.
But it was probably just the wind.
I don’t often regret my constant impulsivity.
But this lunch with Myles is bound to be the most awkward lunch in the history of the world. I feel like a gawky teenager about to face the first boy who ever slipped his hand underneath her training bra.
I mean, Myles and I had sex. He apparently doesn’t remember much of it. He knows I thought it was his brother instead of him. A brother who happens to be my boss. And Myles looks exactly like the man I’ve claimed to hate for the past ten months. What do you talk about under those circumstances? Politics? The weather? Which fast food chain has the best French fries?
And how am I going to hold a normal conversation when my mind is still reeling over what happened in that infernal conference room last night?
I walk into the downtown grill and immediately spot Myles sitting at a two-person table near the bar. Even with the large lunch crowd, his height and demeanor—the way he commands a room—tend to separate him from the general population.
Just like his brother.
Okie doke, new commandment. Thou shalt not thinketh or talketh about Ryder. Period-eth.
Myles flashes me an easy smile that’s completely playboy when he catches sight of me. He’s so incredibly good-looking it’s sickening. He looks like he was manufactured in a lab, for God’s sake.
Just like his—
“I was afraid you were going to stand me up,” he says in greeting, rising to his feet.
“Hey, I’m not the kind of girl to turn down a free lunch.”
He laughs as we take our seats. “Beautiful, smart, and frugal with her money? Is it too early to propose?”
“Not if you’re comfortable with rejection.”
He shoots me a sly wink. “I don’t think a man could easily get over being rejected by you, so I’ll play it safe for now.”
After perusing the menu and placing our orders, I’m surprised at how easily the conversation flows, from run-of-the-mill topics like the types of foods we like, to crazy stories we’ve read about in the news. I learn that Myles didn’t go the entrepreneur route like Ryder did and instead, works for their stepfather’s steel manufacturing company. He’s been working at the main headquarters in Raleigh, but recently moved to Charleston to manage the new factory they opened here a few months ago. He likes to experiment with different barbecue recipes on his charcoal grill, play with other people’s dogs as long as he doesn’t have to take care of one himself, and…pottery, of all things.
“Like, you’re actually sitting at the potter’s wheel making vases and bowls and stuff, pottery?” I swallow a bite of my salad, hoping I don’t have dressing dripping from my lip. “Like the movie Ghost?”
He drops his burger onto his plate, flinging his hands in the air. “Well, there goes that. Do you know how many women I’ve snared with that Ghost line? But you beat me to it and now, I’ve got no moves left.”
I find his candor ridiculously attractive. In that aspect at least, he and his brother have something in common.
“How do you bring it up in the conversation?”
His eyes dance with mischief. “I ask her if she’s seen the movie. If she says yes, then I ask if she likes roleplay. I’ll be Patrick Swayze, she can be Demi Moore, and I’ll give her the best clay sex of her life.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Truly, every woman’s wildest fantasy. And what if she hasn’t seen it?”
He takes a drink of his water, grinning around the glass. “I let her watch while I make her a vase without a shirt on. Either scenario tends to bring the same results.”
“Where was that when we first met?” I try to sound offended. “I believe I’m owed a vase.”
His smile dims. “I know I might be blowing my chances here by admitting this, but I honestly don’t remember much from that night, Gretchen. I’m not proud to admit that I was kind of trashed.”
I barely manage to hide my flinch behind my fork.
I’m not about to let him know how much