at his lips. Two long gulps, and he lowered the beer to glare at her. “Out with it. All of it.”
Uh-oh. She’d poked him too much. This was the overprotective bear that’d snapped at every guy who’d dared to speak to her in high school. Not that there’d been a lot of guys doing that after the leukemia had returned. Nobody wanted to date the sick girl. Yet Henrik was interested in her now.
She fisted her hands on her hips and glared right back at Aiden. “Weren’t you the one who was just telling me to find a guy so I could procreate while I still could?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No ‘yeah buts,’” she interjected. “You don’t get to change the rules because...what?” She straightened. “What’s wrong with Henrik?”
“Besides the fact that he only dates glamorous playgirls?”
“He does?” She hadn’t done that much research on him. “Huh. That’s interesting.” Renewed doubts clenched tight and hard in her stomach.
“And disturbing.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not that!” Aiden took another long drink of his beer, completely oblivious to how his remark had cut her.
She swallowed, hands lowering to her sides, the fight leaving her. She’d been vacillating between fantasizing about Henrik and wondering why he’d been so insistent on having lunch with her. Was this just another game to him? Even Aiden didn’t think she was worth Henrik’s time.
Her phone vibrated with another text, but she didn’t look at it.
“I know I don’t have a lot to offer him, but he asked me and I accepted.” She shook her head when Aiden opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not naive or full of dreams, you should know that. I don’t expect insta-love or...anything really. It’s lunch, Aiden. Nothing more or less.” Couldn’t she just enjoy it?
Aiden’s scowled faded into a frown with her words. He lowered the bottle in time with his head. “Damn. I didn’t mean it like that, Jac. You know that.” He looked up, eyes pleading. “You have a lot to offer any man lucky enough to catch you.”
She snorted. “Catch me?”
“You think none of us have noticed your complete lack of boyfriends? I’m not the only commitment-phobe in the family.”
She couldn’t hold his gaze, not with the truth glaring back at her. The random pattern on the worn linoleum was oddly comforting to stare at. How many times had she focused on the gray squares instead of meeting her mother’s knowing eyes?
“Hey.” He’d gotten close enough that his sock-covered toes invaded her line of sight. “Just be careful, all right?”
The mirth bubbled out hard and short. “When am I not?” Although her family had never coddled her, she’d always carried their unspoken responsibility to stay safe. Don’t be wild or crazy. We almost lost you twice, don’t make us worry more.
He sighed and nudged her shoulder. “You’re right.” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her again, harder. She rocked with the movement, clamped down on her smile when he did it a third time.
“Stop.”
“Are you going to make me?”
“Jerk.” She glared at him from beneath her brows. “Don’t you have to work tonight?”
He checked the clock. “Not ’til nine.”
“What about Sheila?” Defense was the best offense.
His laugh was rough with appreciation and something she couldn’t define. “Smooth.” He finished his beer and tucked the empty into the recycling bin under the sink. He pulled out all his charm and shoved it into his smile when he turned back to her. “Truce?”
“Fine.” She could never stay annoyed or mad at him. “Truce.”
“Don’t let Roller push you around.” He just had to get in that last bit of brotherly advice.
She heaved a sigh. “Like I haven’t learned a thing from my four imposing brothers? I know how to protect myself.”
A sadness fell over his expression as he studied her. “Yeah. You do.” His grin was back before she could question him on what he meant. “Hey. Does this mean you’re going to become a hockey fan finally?”
“As if.” Her scoff covered her own smile. “Besides, it’s not like I hate the sport. I just have better things to do than spend hours watching men fight over a little black disc.”
“It’s a puck,” Aiden called at her back as she left the kitchen. “And we don’t fight over it.”
“Oh, really?” She shot him a smirk over her shoulder. “So what are you fighting over then?”
“We... It’s not... Crap,” he sputtered out.
“That’s what I thought.” She bounded past her parents who were watching Jeopardy now. “I have to study.”
“Don’t stay up too late,” her mom cautioned, a warning