The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient 2)

“Well, me, too, actually.” Both women laughed at the same time.

Were they talking about Kh?i? They made it sound like he was a billionaire, when Esme was certain he wasn’t rich. She supposed it was perfectly possible these two women were worse off than he was. An old beat-up house was better than no house.

“Did you see her all over Quan?” the first woman asked.

“Yeah, if it doesn’t work with one brother, try the next.”

Esme scowled. Without a doubt, they were talking about her, but she hadn’t been flirting with Quân. Had she? Definitely not on purpose. He was attractive, though, and funny, considerate, and kind. If she’d never met Kh?i, she’d jump at the chance to dance with him.

But she had met Kh?i.

Toilets flushed, heels clacked against the tile floor, and water ran as the women washed their hands.

“He is good-looking, though,” the second woman said.

“He’s also an asshole.”

“Okay, I agree. I know he’s . . . you know, but I heard he complained to Sara about her wedding. Right there at the table on her wedding day—”

Esme’s tolerance for their secret bad-talking ended as a fire lit inside of her. She clawed the door of her stall open and marched out. “He is not an asshole. He is sweet.”

It was fine if they thought the worst of her—she didn’t care about them—but Kh?i was their family. Instead of spreading rumors and condemning him, they should have tried harder to understand him.

One of the women flushed and hurried to the door, but the other sent Esme a cutting glance. “You don’t get to look down on anyone.”

Esme lifted her chin, but she said nothing as the women left the bathroom. What could she say? They had judged both Esme and Kh?i without knowing their entire stories. Kh?i wasn’t bad. He was misunderstood. As for Esme, she wasn’t a gold digger. Her reasons for pursuing Kh?i had nothing to do with money. Too bad she couldn’t tell anyone about them without ruining everything.

She finished washing her hands and looked in the mirror, and her shoulders sagged. No matter how hard she tried, something about her was always off. She searched

through her purse until she found her lipstick and applied a fresh red coat to her lips, but that didn’t fix the problem. She still wasn’t Esme in Accounting, the one Kh?i wanted.

But Quân wanted her—maybe—and he seemed to like her as she was, without an accounting certification and GED. Unlike Kh?i, he wanted to dance with her. It might not be a big deal for Quân, but it was for her. The man radiated sex appeal. Their bodies would touch. He’d have his arms around her. They’d move together. And she’d respond to him. How could she not? She was human and starved for affection.

If she was smart, she’d switch to the brother who was a better bet. From where she was now, that brother appeared to be Quân, but when it came to matters of the heart, she’d never been good at listening to reason. The real question was: Who did her heart want?

* * *

• • •

Khai could not focus on his book. There was no sense in trying anymore. He slapped his book shut and paced about the bottom floor of the restaurant, running his thumb over the corner of the book and flipping through the pages. Fliiip. Fliiip. Fliiip.

He didn’t pace anymore. He didn’t do this fidgety stuff anymore. Except, clearly, he did.

The hostess and all the staff were busy upstairs with the wedding, and his footsteps were loud on the red carpet. The dancing was going to start soon.

Khai didn’t dance. But Quan did. He suspected Esme did.

Quan’s words from earlier repeated through Khai’s head: I’m interested. Those eyes alone would do it, but the rest of her . . .

The building rumbled with a slow bass, and Khai’s skin went cold and numb. It had started. First, it was the bride’s dance with her dad. But after that . . .

Esme. With Quan. Bodies together. Moving slowly.

He was going to be sick. His skin hurt. Each breath hurt. His insides were splitting open. Why the hell did he want to smash everything to pieces?

Quan was going to put his hands in the small of Esme’s back, that place Khai had claimed earlier today, touch her hips, her arms, her hands. And she was going to let him. She was going to touch him back.

As she should. Quan was the better man.