Blake wastes no time. The second Nate’s out of my field of vision, he attacks.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he asks in a low voice. “The family friend you’ve been holding a torch for?”
I groan, propping my elbows on the table and my chin in my palm. Apparently, my little brother is not as oblivious as I thought. And apparently, the Bennett rumor mill is working better than ever. In a moment of weakness, I once confessed to Max that I’m holding a torch for a family friend, without naming Nate. Blake using the exact same words proves the guys in this family gossip as much as the girls.
My brother interprets my silence as a yes.
“Do I need to threaten him? Tell him not to mess around with you? Give him the brother speech?”
“Hold your horses right there. This is none of your business, Blake.”
“Barking up the wrong tree here.”
“No, you don’t need to flex your brotherly muscles. Nothing’s happening.”
Blake points his finger at me, but then his phone beeps again.
“Damn, this is my delivery guy. I have to go. If you change your mind about the brother speech, tell me.” With those parting words, he strolls out of the restaurant.
Nate stalks back inside seconds later. The moment he drops in his chair at the table, the air between us charges. It’s like the only thing that kept the usual sparks between us at bay was Blake’s presence.
“So, what else do you want to know?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the wooden surface, racking my brain for ways to dissolve the tension. It seems to have seeped into my body, making me jittery.
Nate leans slightly across the table. “Tell me more about that torch.”
It takes me a second to realize what he means, and then the round table suddenly feels far too small.
“How…?”
“I was barely out the door when Blake accosted you. So, you’ve had a crush on me for years, huh?”
My brain freezes for a brief second, embarrassment overwhelming me. Then, slowly, my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. I’ve never been much of a coward, which only leaves fighting. I gather my wits around me, squaring my shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes.
“Answer something first. Have you been eye flirting with me for years or was it all in my head?” Yeah, I sound about a million times braver than I feel, but I don’t see another way out of this besides grabbing the bull by its horns.
“None of it was in your head.”
I swear my heart instantly doubles in size. For a split second, I understand the saying ‘to see the world through rose-colored glasses.’
“But I’m moving, and even if I weren’t, I’m not the man for you.”
Yeah, that rose? Just turned into shades of shitty brown.
“Way to twist the knife, buddy.” My voice is dry and flat, even though I was hoping I would sound humorous. I’ve always used humor as a shield. It’s usually quite effective.
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” Leaning across the table, he covers my hand with his. I think it was meant as a comforting gesture, but a bolt of heat singes me from the skin-on-skin contact. Judging by the sharp breath Nate exhales, he felt it too.
I pull my hand back quickly. “No touching.”
“Right.”
“Since we got that pesky detail out of the way, can we focus on your pitch?”
Nate flashes me a wicked grin, and I’m sure I’m in for some more teasing. He always did love to tease me. “Pesky details, huh?”
Luckily, I can hold my own, even though sitting across from his six feet of hotness and those bright green eyes doesn’t help one bit. Add a sharp brain to the mix and I’m a goner.
“Hey, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” I say in an awful British accent. “You’ll be gone soon. Until then, just try not to knock my socks off by being smarter, hotter, or funnier than usual.”