She headed straight for the coffeemaker. He’d left a cup on the counter for her, and she filled it, then added creamer and a spoonful of sugar while he carried their plates to the secondhand dinette set he’d picked up at Goodwill that only seated two people.
She took the chair across from him, and after a few bites of her omelet, she glanced up at him, the look in her eyes surprisingly tentative.
“So . . . umm . . . do you have any plans today?” she asked.
He took a drink of his coffee, thinking for a moment. It was the weekend, which he hated because activity on most of his projects was shut down per union agreement, which meant Remy had to find other things to occupy his time until Monday rolled around. Usually, he spent Saturday and Sunday down at the office getting caught up on paperwork, and as a break from that, he’d do quick drive-bys of his projects to make sure equipment and building supplies remained secured. Boring, mundane stuff to pass the time.
But did he have any actual plans he’d made, like normal people did for the weekends? No.
Unsure why Tempest was asking, he kept his reply noncommittal. “I have to run by a few of my projects at some point this afternoon, but other than that, no.”
She’d finished her breakfast and set her fork on her plate, giving him a hopeful smile. “Would you like to go into the city with me?”
He tipped his head curiously. “What’s in the city that you need to do?”
She ran a finger along the rim of her coffee mug, still looking a bit uncertain. “There’s a place that sells barstools for restaurants, and I saw a few online that I really liked, possibly for Wilder Things. I’d love for you to go with me so I can get your opinion.”
The fact that she wanted his advice on such important things, that his ideas and point of view even mattered to her, still floored him. To Remy, this went above and beyond the casual affair they’d agreed upon, yet the thought of spending more time with Tempest—something he truly enjoyed—wasn’t an invitation he was about to turn down.
“Sure,” he said, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her. “I’d like that.”
“Oh, good.” Relief and enthusiasm lit up her entire face.
The cell phone she’d set on the table vibrated with what sounded like a text message, and she lifted it up, a frown forming on her brows when she saw whatever was on the screen.
“Go away,” she muttered beneath her breath, her good mood from a moment ago now tinged with irritation.
“Everything okay?” he asked in concern.
She glanced up at Remy, clearly hesitating a moment, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to confide in him. Her phone buzzed again, but this time she didn’t bother to look at it.
“It’s just Kyle,” she finally said, her tone frustrated, as was the look in her eyes. “The guy who came to my apartment the evening of the ball,” she added, as if Remy needed the reminder.
Everything inside Remy went cold as ice—same as it had that night when he’d come face-to-face with his half brother for the first time in his life. “Yeah, I know who Kyle is,” he bit out, belatedly realizing what he might have possibly revealed by the startled look on Tempest’s face. “What does he want?”
“He wants what he can’t have,” she said, her exasperation clear as she rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “He wants me to go out with him again. I can’t make it any clearer that I’m not interested in him, but he’s so damn persistent.”
As if what Remy had just said finally dawned on her, a confused look passed across Tempest’s features, and her gaze narrowed on him. “Wait . . . you know him?”
Remy’s entire body tensed. His chest felt uncomfortably tight, like a ten-ton weight was just sitting there, making it difficult for him to breathe as the woman sitting across the table from him waited for an answer. Realizing he was standing at a fork in the road, Remy was faced with two choices . . . deny that he knew Kyle personally or tell Tempest the truth. But he’d never revealed that dark anger, the inescapable, humiliating hurt, the devastating rejection to anyone else. Not even his ex-wife.
To do so now would be like opening up a vein and letting it bleed all over the place. It would be ugly and painful and would strip him bare emotionally. It was a huge, colossal moment in his life that would require ultimate trust, and his greatest fear was that this woman he was coming to care for would look at him differently. That she’d see how a mother’s abandonment, then outright rejection had royally fucked him up for any other woman.
As if Tempest could sense his internal struggle—though she had no clue as to the cause—her gaze softened with concern. “Remy?”
He forced his clenched jaw to relax, and before he lost the fucking nerve, he revealed the truth. “Kyle Jenkins is my half brother.”
Shock jolted through Tempest at Remy’s statement, which was quickly followed by confusion. “Your half brother?” she repeated incredulously. “I don’t understand. That night in my apartment, Kyle didn’t know who you were.”
The bitterness etching Remy’s features was undeniable. “It’s because he’s never met me, and chances are, he doesn’t even know I exist.”
His vague reply perplexed her even more. “Remy . . . explain this to me,” she said, her tone imploring. “Please.”
He looked away, every muscle in his body tense. The hand he had on the table was curled into a tight fist, making the veins in his forearm flex. “I never should have said anything,” he said, his voice gruff.
“But you did say something,” she said, refusing to let him off so easily. Not after dropping such a huge bombshell on her. “Don’t shut me out, Remy. This is too important. Whatever this story is of yours, it matters to me. You matter to me.” And he truly did. In a very short span of time, everything about Remy’s life was becoming significant to her and her growing feelings for him.
When he finally glanced back at her, there was no disguising the pain and humiliation she saw in his eyes. “I guess you’re going to learn exactly where this tramp came from,” he said, his mouth twisting with a caustic smile that was clearly meant to warn Tempest of the terrible secret he was about to reveal.