“Five.”
“You moved here, and you mentioned you’re leasing your apartment in San Francisco, right? Where are they now?”
“Dad’s garage. He’s a car collector and lets me park my babies there. I don’t use them as often as I’d like.”
“You could park them in our garage.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’ve seen it. It’s big, and we have space for at least fifteen more cars.”
“Thank you. I’ll think about it. How much will it cost me to build a house by the lake?”
I glance at him briefly and shake my head. Thankfully, we arrive at the hospital, and I say, “Here we are. I’m going to be in town. Text me when you know what the status is.” I hand him my business card.
He smirks as he takes the card from me, caressing my thumb intentionally. To say that I don’t feel anything would be a lie. The simple touch sends a current of electricity through my entire body, almost igniting it.
“Finally, you’re giving me your number.” He looks at the card and then shoves it into his wallet. “Should I wait a couple of days, so I don’t sound desperate?”
“Ugh.” Why does he always have to flirt? “We’re exchanging numbers so you can reach me.” I try not to sound frustrated, but I fail miserably.
He chuckles as he says, “Sure, it’s just so I can reach you. Thank you for the ride.”
The kiss he blows me after he closes the door makes me fume. This isn’t a game. Is he doing it just to fuck with my head?
Three hours after I dropped Dare at the hospital, he texts me.
Darren Russell: I’m on standby. One of the guys involved in the accident needs surgery.
Vance: Are you staying then?
Darren Russell: Probably. I won’t know until his family decides if they want the operation or not.
Vance: How long will that take?
Darren Russell: I’m not sure. They’re waiting for his mom. If you ask me, the wife should be the one making the decision. The success of the surgery lies in how fast I operate. However, it’s not my decision to make.
Vance: Do you want to go for a bite?
He sends me a smiling face with horns emoji.
I gape at his text.
Darren Russell: What kind of bite?
I almost reply with a facepalm emoji, but I won’t engage with him.
Vance: Do you want something to eat for lunch?
Darren Russell: Sure.
Vance: I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Let’s meet by the entrance. Don’t make me wait.
Darren Russell: Or what?
He’s infuriating. I don’t respond to his last text. Instead, I leave the Merkel Hotel and drive to meet him. I’m still familiarizing myself with the area. Instead of asking where he’d want to eat, I drive us back to Merkel. There are two five-star restaurants there. Henry can pay for my meal. I’m impressed that Darren doesn’t speak until after the waitress leaves with our order.
“What did you do while you were waiting?”
I reach for the glass of water in front of me, take a sip, and answer, “Work.”
“You can work from Portland?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see you bringing a computer.”
“There’s a room in this hotel where I can work,” I mumble.
“Wow, you can—”
“Escargot and steak bruschetta,” the waitress sets them on the table, interrupting us.
“We didn’t order any of these,” I say.
“It’s complimentary,” she says, leaving right away.
My phone buzzes. When I check who it is, I growl. Henry.
Henry: Enjoy your date.
He’s going to pay for this.
“This is nice,” Darren says.
“Sure,” I respond because what else can I say? My brother is teasing the fuck out of me? I don’t think that’s a good answer. The waitress is back with a bottle of wine. She opens it, hands me the cork, and pours the wine into the glasses.
When she leaves, Darren asks, “Are you always like this?”
I almost scowl at him but control myself. “Like what?”
“Monosyllabic answers, scowls…I’m starting to wonder if that’s just the way you are or if you don’t like me.”
I like him.
I like him too much, but of course, I don’t say that. Instead, I drink the wine so fast, anyone would think it’s water. I pour myself another glass. Maybe if I’m drunk, this won’t be as painful. I’m not sure where the pain comes from or what it is that I’m avoiding.
“See, you’re mute.”
“I like silence.” There, I said it. Maybe that’ll keep him quiet.
He laughs. How dare he mock me?
“Are you done?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, still laughing. “I’m just. This is hilarious.”
“Really, how’s that?”
“Well, we’re having a meal, but anyone who heard you would think you’re at the mall on Christmas Eve trying to fight a nasty crowd.”
I glare at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Probably because you buy your gifts online to avoid people.” He grins, pouring me more wine.
I should stop drinking. Instead, I eat some of the appetizers we have on the table. I should shove some food into his mouth to keep him quiet, so I can breathe.
The tightness in my shoulders loosens up when he takes a piece of bread and shoves it in his mouth. The tension comes back as he asks, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“About?”
“You buy all your gifts online.” He pauses, pops an olive in his mouth, and after he chews, he says, “I bet ahead of time to ensure that they get there on time.”
“It’s easier. Plus, I don’t feel comfortable around crowds.”
“PTSD?”
I almost squirm in my seat. His questions are invasive. Why does he want to know so much about me? I don’t like to be the center of attention. Sometimes, it feels like he set me in the middle of a stage with a big spotlight pointing at me.
I hate it.
“Can we talk about something else?” I almost beg him.
“Your answers are too short. I’m trying to figure out if you don’t like me or if this is just your personality.”
I stare at him as I drink more wine.
“Yes?”
“Well, you talk a lot, and you don’t see me complaining.”
“I have to fill the silence. You’re too quiet. The last time we came to Portland, I thought it was because your brother and his son were with us. Now. Well, I think it’s all you. I’ve had longer conversations with your nephew.”
I can’t help but laugh at his nonsense. “Arden barely speaks.”
He smirks. “Exactly.”
He drinks some wine. “So, you were in the Army?”
I don’t answer.
“I studied my undergrad at NYU. Always trying to get away from the parents, you know? After that, I ended up at Johns Hopkins. That’s where I first met Hayes.”
I stare at him because I didn’t prompt him to tell me any of that. Then he says, “This is the part where you respond with your life, or not. I can fill the silence with my sisters’ lives. You wouldn’t understand how hard it is to live with three sisters. Three. With just brothers in your family, I guess you don’t have to think about finding tampons in the bathroom or having to buy feminine products because that’s the only way your parents will let you drive.”