Unwrapped

“She ate it up,” Tristan said, forking up potatoes. Apparently his own eating—both literal and figurative in this case—had been relegated to the forgotten pile. “In her own way, she was asking for everything that happened. Hell, for all I know, she’s been asking for a while and I’ve been too blind to see it.”

“We were both blind. Added to that, you’re a romantic who only wanted to see her in a silk-sheeted bed wearing a peignoir with trailing ribbons tied in her hair.”

Amazingly, Tristan grinned. “That’s a scary observation, especially since it’s true. But she’s not made for silk and ribbons. Or not only. I was being stupid by pretending she was.” He let out a windy sigh. “I was careful with her for so long. Then tonight—”

“Oh, Christ, don’t start recriminating. She enjoyed everything we threw at her and asked for more. This is why I’m her true best friend, because she knows you can’t accept her as she is. Even now you want to keep her under glass, like a pretty butterfly.”

Tristan started to argue; then he gave a short shake of his head. “I guess in some ways she’s still sixteen to me. Part of me isn’t ready to accept that she’s a woman now and capable of taking any step she wants, especially steps that may very well lead her out of our lives.”

“Well, I’ve known her since she was seventeen, and unlike you, I know she’s not seventeen anymore. She’s also not a coward. She won’t lie to herself forever. Just not built that way,” Matt said, again reaching for his soda.

It wasn’t hard liquor, but Swan’s didn’t exactly carry top-shelf. He’d have to wait to break into the wine back at the cabin.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t she want me to know she’d caught us? Sounds like pretty big denial to me.” Tristan set down his fork, clearly finished though he’d barely eaten half his meal. Usually the food had to moo for him to resist eating every scrap on his plate.

“She was scared. And embarrassed. And truthfully? I think she was afraid to face you. She may love me, but the two of you have your own issues I’m not part of.”

“She was disappointed in us,” he said quietly.

Matt didn’t reply because he’d suspected the same. “It’s hard for a chick to acknowledge a pretty boy might like the other team as

much as hers,” he said with a shrug, though he guessed it went way deeper than that.

“You’re pretty too.”

“Aww, how sweet.” Before Tristan could kick him under the table, Matt signaled the waitress, Telula, over with a smile. She perked up instantly at Matt’s attention. “Hey, Tel, could you grab us one of those chocolate and raspberry cakes from the bakery case? To go.”

“Sure, honey. You want some French vanilla ice cream to go with that?”

“That’d be perfect.” Oh hell yeah. Now that’s what he was talking about. Then he remembered Cait would need real food beyond the frozen crap he had in the freezer. He had stuff for breakfast, but she probably wouldn’t want bacon and eggs tonight. “Can you box up some other stuff for us too? Onion rings and one of your awesome turkey clubs.”

“She’ll want root beer,” Tristan put in.

“Right. You got any two-liters?”

“We’ll fix your order up just the way you want it. No problem, honey.” Telula patted his shoulder and began clearing away plates.

“You need some help with that?” Tris asked as she balanced their dishes and glasses in her arms.

“Nope. There’s a trick to it.” She winked at them and headed off to the kitchen, a jaunty spring in her step.

“She’s nice. Reminds me of your mom,” Tristan said, wiping up the crumbs from the Formica like the good little boy he’d always been. With a mile-wide streak of naughty he just couldn’t reconcile, even with himself.

“My mom’s planning on visiting soon, by the way. She’s going to try to get in for New Year’s. Says Boise’s winter has been hell already, and she needs to escape.”

“Yeah? She get some time off work?”

“A week and a half. She wants to spend it with her two boys and her extra daughter.” He grinned at Tris, but Tristan wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the table.

“How’re we gonna tell them?”

Matt knew very well who Tristan meant, but he played dumb. Anything to stall. “Them?”

“Your mom, my parents, Caity’s mom. We can’t hide this.”

“Says who?” Matt bit off a sigh as Telula returned with the check. “What’s the rush?” he asked once she’d left again.

“I don’t want to sweep this under the rug. If we’re doing it, we’re doing it all the way.”