“Grace Jamieson?” A man in a corner booth waves.
He’s tall, wiry and wearing a sharp grey business suit. Small glasses, the kind that most would consider ‘spectacles’ dangles from the edge of his nose.
He seems nice, if a bit socially awkward. Unlike Zane, whose presence immediately fills up a room until it drowns everyone else out, this guy seems content to be a background character.
It’s unfair to compare the two. Knowing mom, she’d pick the opposite of Zane’s strong-willed, rebellious, and sensual personality. Plus, this is exactly the type of guy who seems likely to agree to a date the moment it’s offered.
I plant my purse in the chair and sit rigidly across from him. “Hi, I’m Grace.”
“Steven.” He offers his hand and then pulls it back and wipes it against his pants. He offers it to me again.
I shake his hand firmly. “Steven, I—”
“I ordered for you.” He jumps in before I can finish my statement. “I hope that’s okay. They serve great sliders here And onion rings.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be staying long.” I try to remove my hand from his.
He holds on, his fingers tightening ever so slightly as his voice creaks higher. “Why?”
I slip my hand out of his and watch the disappointment roll over his face. He seems so crushed that I feel a little guilty.
“Steven, what did my mother say to you?”
“She said you’re a nice young lady who’d like to date with the intention of marriage.” Steven adjusts his tie. His Adam’s apple is prominent and I try not to stare at it. “I was so relieved to hear that. Dating these days is so confusing. You never know which way is up.” He chuckles nervously.
I lift my lips in what I hope is an understanding smile.
Steven leans forward and says in a shy voice, “Don’t take this the wrong way but the picture your mom sent me didn’t do you justice. You’re way prettier in real life.”
Mom sent a picture?
I almost cringe in embarrassment.
“Thank you, Steven. You seem like a very nice man and I’m sure you’re going to meet a very nice lady, but I don’t think that lady is me.” I grab my purse. “If my mother asks, please tell her that I showed up, but we weren’t compatible. I wish you the best.”
When I start to walk away, Steven jumps to his feet and grabs my hand. “Wait,” he calls, “are you going to leave? Just like that? We haven’t even had lunch.”
“I have somewhere to be.”
“Please,” he begs. “Stay.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Steven’s forehead bunches and he gives me another pleading look. “At least give me your phone number. We can set up another date.”
“She said no,” a voice barges in.
I glance up and see Zane standing at our table, one hand in a sling while the other is fisted at his side. What is he doing? Is he seriously thinking about fighting someone when he barely got out of the hospital?
“You’re… you’re Zane Cross!” Steven yells, his voice climbing in shock.
Zane pulls me behind him and stands in front of me. He looks Steven dead in the face. “Yeah? And who are you?”
“I’m Steven Winston. I’m a huge fan.”
Zane grunts in response. Without wasting a second, he grabs my purse, hands it to me and reclaims my hand. “Grey, let’s go.”
“Wait.”
Zane and I pause.
Steven’s eyes are twinkling like stars. “Can I have an autograph?”
“We’re in a rush.”
“Please? It won’t take a second.”
Zane glances at me.
I shrug.
He sighs and spins around, extending a hand to Steven.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Steven thumbs through his notebook. He no longer seems bothered by the fact that I’m ditching him. “I’ve been following your band for a while, long before I started working for your dad. I was hoping you’d drop by the campaign office but you never do.”
Zane signs with a flourish and hands it back. “Here.”
He grabs my hand and tries to lead me away again.
I tug his hand back and glance at Steven. “Did… you just say campaign office?”
Zane turns slowly too.
“I’m not supposed to say,” Steven looks askance at me and then back to Zane. “But I guess it’s okay, since you’re Jarod Cross’s son.”
I lean forward, something inside me warning that this moment is meaningful.
“Jarod Cross is running for governor,” Steven whispers.
My skin starts crawling. Why would someone like Jarod Cross try to grab that much power? What more does he want?
Zane slides his fingers into his pocket and contemplates Steven’s words. I notice the way he’s still grinning like it’s all a joke and I realize how good of a strategy that is.
Steven has no idea he’s pumping us with confidential information and he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with sharing more.
If it was Dutch, Steven would have clammed up and refused to say anything. But Zane makes everyone feel like a friend. He’s open. Inviting. Like a wolf dressing as a sheep to make his lunch feel at ease.
A shudder runs down my spine.
In a way, that’s more terrifying than someone who wears their menace on their face. Because you never know when that darkness will come out to bite you.
“Really?” I gasp, taking cues from Zane and putting on a show. “Did you know about this?”
Zane shakes his head.
“You seriously didn’t know?” Steven looks shocked.
“I guess dad wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Oh no. Did I let the cat out of the bag?”
“Let’s sit,” Zane says.
Sensing his intentions, I slide into the booth and he falls in next to me. Everywhere from his arm all the way down to his thigh press into me.
With him so close, I struggle to remain engaged in the conversation.
“When did you start working for my dad?”
“Can we eat while we talk? I’m starving,” Steven says. He pushes the burger toward me. “Ketchup?”
“She doesn’t like ketchup,” Zane says, tapping his fingers impatiently on the menu. “Grey, you want me to order something else for you?”
“I’m good.”
Steven observes the interaction. An uncomfortable smile cracks his lips. “You two seem really close.”
“We’re step-siblings,” I supply.
Zane stares at me with displeasure, all the light in his blue eyes get sucked into a blackhole of disapproval. He doesn’t like me saying that to others, but so what? It’s the truth and it’ll keep Steven feeling comfortable enough to talk.
Steven lets out a deep breath. “Right. I knew that. I guess… it’s good you guys get along so well.”
“Yeah.” Zane leans toward me. A wicked smile blooms. “You can say we know each other inside and out.”
Heat blazes over my face. Nostrils flaring, I squeeze Zane’s thigh. Hard.
He flinches.
Before I can change the conversation back toward Jarod Cross’s campaign, I get a phone call.
It’s Cadence.
“Excuse me,” I say, slipping past Zane to answer the call near the bathroom. Once I’m in the privacy of an empty corridor, I answer. “Did you find something?”
“We found more than ‘something’.” Her voice sounds shaky. “Miss Jamieson, you’re gonna want to see this.”
