“Impossible. A girl like you definitely dates,” Bobby says.
“A girl like me.” I let out a scoffed chuckle. I’m about to leave it at that, but then think better of it and soldier on. “Even if I was interested in dating, I wouldn’t date one of my brother’s friends. All of you are trouble with a capital T. Didn’t you hear the speech?”
“Trouble with a capital T?” Jenson asks.
“Do we really want to go there right now?” I say, glaring at him until he catches my drift, and his laughter fades away.
“No, you’re right. You’re right. Vic was right.” Jenson concedes.
“Let’s drop the dating my sister conversation and watch the game,” Vic says, giving each of the guys a long, pointed look. After a couple of seconds of being elbowed by him every time he moves to get food, I get up and sit beside Oliver on the loveseat.
“Ah . . . you did miss me, after all,” he says, as soon as I get comfortable.
“Well, for starters, I couldn’t think with your eyes burning holes into the side of my face, and you were my second choice for most my type, so . . .” I shrug and flash him a smile. We look at each other for a long moment before his eyes drop to my mouth and finally away from me to the television. Another touchdown is scored, another kick is made, and a long string of curse words is thrown out by each of them. Just as I’m contemplating making an exit, Oliver shifts beside me.
“I seem to recall a different order of hierarchy,” he whispers huskily in my ear, making me shiver.
“Of course you do,” I whisper back, unwilling to acknowledge the way my heart is playing Double Dutch in my chest.
“It’s true.” He moves closer so that his arm is pressed up against mine.
“You have your memories; I have mine.”
Oliver’s expression changes from playful to serious. “Yeah, I guess so.” He exhales. “So, you ready for Tuesday?”
“I am. I’m excited to see the space and get the ball rolling. Thank you for asking me,” I say, hoping he understands how much something like this means to me.
“I couldn’t think of a better person for the job.” He bumps my foot again and my heart vibrates at the touch.
“Stop playing footsies with me,” I whisper.
“Or what?” he whispers back, cocking his head in a way that makes his hair fall over his left eye and bounce over his lashes every time he blinks.
“Or Darth Vader will be forced to draw his light saber.”
His chuckle vibrates the couch and into me. “Trust me; he doesn’t want to compete with mine.”
When the double connotation hits me, my mouth drops open, and he laughs.
“Some things never change,” I say.
His eyes darken. “Sometimes they get better.”
I look away and sit there for a couple more minutes before I go back to my room, using the excuse that I need to see Mia before I go to Wyatt’s parents’ for dinner. After I say my goodbyes, I keep thinking about Oliver’s words. I swear, the man haunts me more than my dead fiancé. It’s unnerving.