Prince Albert (A Step-Brother Romance #4)

Bennet, my date, is talking to me over cocktails. He's cute. Okay, he's totally hot. With wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine. Except instead of "dude" coming out of his mouth, it's "y'all." The thick Texas twang doesn't make him any less attractive, either. Except when he calls me "darlin'," and it makes me think of Gaige.

And Bennet is nothing like Gaige. He seems nice. He hangs on my every word, and laughs, and brushes his hand casually on my arm.

When he touches me, I wait for something to strike – fireworks, electricity, some kind of spark – the way it does when Gaige brushes his fingers along my skin, but it doesn't. But I tell myself that my ex-boyfriend Derek was the same way – a slow burn, no immediate spark -- but it turned into something over time. Sort of. We never really had a lot of passion, even after a year together. And it didn't exactly end well. Derek wound up cheating on me with my ex-roommate, so that relationship isn't the best example, I guess.

But Bennet is sweet. He seems kind. Like a Labrador.

And my mind is drifting the entire time he's talking. What's he saying, again? He's asking me a question, and it takes me a minute to figure it out. He's asking about my work. Shit, I'm supposed to be talking. "I'm sorry, I missed that," I say.

"I was asking about your trip," he says. "You mentioned Japan."

"Oh, yeah, next week," I say. "I'll be there for a few weeks. I'm basically being sent to manage my stepbrother, Gaige. He's a motorcycle racer – you know those sport bikes? That's what he does."

"Sounds dangerous," Bennet says.

"Japan?" I ask. "No, it's the opposite, actually. It's really quite safe."

Bennet laughs. "I meant the bike racing."

"Oh, yeah." I roll my eyes. "Especially when you like to pull dumb stunts the way Gaige does." My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my purse. "Excuse me for a second."



Where are you?



I recognize Gaige's number immediately but ignore it, setting the phone down on the table. He's been avoiding me, yet picks now as the appropriate time to text? Yeah, right.

"Sorry about that," I say. "So, being an accountant sounds interesting." I'm lying. I take another sip of my margarita.

Bennet is saying something about his job, and when my phone buzzes again, I'm honestly grateful for the distraction. I should be hanging on every word that comes out of Bennet's adorable mouth, except I'm not.



What are you doing right now?



Bennet is still talking, and I nod along, making encouraging sounds while I text back.

None of your business. You?



I set the phone down. Two seconds later, it buzzes.

Are you alone?

I text back.

Yes.

It buzzes again. Damn it.

Liar.



I'm annoyed with Gaige for interrupting my date, and I know I should turn off the phone, but I don't. Instead, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Bennet watching a sports game on the row of televisions behind me, and text on my way.



You've left me alone forever now. Why are you texting me? Are you bored?



I've only made it through the bathroom door when it buzzes again.



Maybe I've just finally recovered from the worst case of blue balls known to man.



I feel a perverse mix of guilt and satisfaction when I read his text message. How can I even respond to that? Sorry about your balls? Hope they haven't fallen off? I wonder if they make a greeting card for that occasion.



I'm sure you found someone to assist you.



I'm washing my hands and fixing my hair in the mirror when he texts again.



So are you in your room? Or are you having a happy hour date?



I stare at his text. Why does Gaige seem to have this sixth sense about me? It's so annoying. Well, I'm not going to outright lie. I turn the phone off and stick it in my purse without responding.

I'm weaving and winding my way back through the crowd in the bar to my table. "Sorry, I –" I stop short when I realize Bennet is no longer sitting at my table.

Gaige is in his seat, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "You didn't respond to my text," he says, looking up. I turn to see the waitress behind me, with a beer in hand that Gaige accepts.

"Where's Bennet?" I demand.

Gaige takes a sip of his beer. "Bennet decided to cut the date short," he says.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," he says, with a look of smug satisfaction.

"You were in the –" I start to say, looking around for Bennet, but not seeing him anywhere. "Did you really just run off my – "

"Your what, Delaney?" he asks. "Your date?"

"Fine," I say. "I'm on a date. I was on a date. With a nice guy. Before you showed up and ruined it."

"Oh yeah," he says. "It looked like it was going really well. You gazing off into the distance, leaving the guy to fend for himself. Trust me, he was glad to be let off the hook."

"What did you do?"

Gaige shrugs. "I told him you were already taken."

"You told him I was taken." My brain refuses to process this information, so instead I just stand there staring at Gaige like he's speaking in a foreign language.