Ian dug a hand into a bag of peanuts. “Ashley will be disappointed. She’s been trying to marry you off forever.”
“She has?” Gray asked with genuine surprise. He’d always figured that women didn’t see him as the husband type. He either got labeled as a consummate bachelor or a love-’em-and-leave-’em prick. It wasn’t a reputation he fostered, per se, but he’d become resigned to it. He obviously lacked something that women were looking for when it came to long-term commitment.
At least that’s what Jessica had told him.
Ian’s voice jerked him back to the present. “Sure, Ash always has about a half-dozen single women in her book club alone who are dying to meet you. She’s described you as being the strong, silent type. Women love that shit.”
Gray grunted.
“So what happened? I thought you liked Brynn.”
“I do,” Gray said truthfully. “That’s the trouble. I like her. That’s it.”
Ian paused in munching his peanuts. “Sounds simple. Maybe simple’s what you need after Jessica…”
Gray remained silent as he watched the Mariners’ third baseman hit into a double play. “It’s kind of boring,” he said finally.
“No offense, but ‘boring’ is kind of your thing these days. I thought you liked things predictable.”
“I do,” Gray said, his mood turning increasingly surly. He didn’t like all of Ian’s questions. They were hitting disturbingly close to a nerve he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He felt his friend watching him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to squirm. “What?”
“It’s the other one,” Ian said with a slightly awed tone.
“What?”
“Your girlfriend’s sister. Your employee.”
“What about her?”
“You like her,” Ian accused. “That’s why things aren’t working out with the perfect sister. You like the imperfect one. The one that looks just like your ex-fiancé. Because that’s healthy. Not.”
“I never should have told you about her resemblance to Jess,” Gray said shortly, taking a sip of his beer. “What gave you that idea?”
Ian continued to watch him. “The way you talk about her. You should have heard yourself that first night you found out she’d be working for you. It was the most I’ve heard you talk in years.”
Gray grunted. “Sophie is…Everything about her is wrong.”
“Mm-hmm. Bet she’s hot,” Ian said, turning his attention back to the game.
“She’s a mess.”
“She’s gotta be hot,” Ian muttered again, under his breath.
Gray noticed that for all his talk about “hot” women, Ian’s eyes had never left his son. Ryan was now wearing a big foam finger and, at the mascot’s beckoning, stood atop the dugout and helped to lead “the wave.” Ryan’s face glowed with pure youthful ecstasy.
Had Gray ever been that happy? He couldn’t remember.
Flagging down the beer vendor, Gray handed over some money and pushed Ian’s twenty-dollar bill away. “My turn,” he grumbled.
“So if it’s not the younger sister who’s under your skin, why are you planning to ignore a beautiful woman who hasn’t done anything wrong?”
Gray gave Ian an annoyed look. “Are we still talking about this? What are we, sorority sisters now? Shall I order us some ice cream and Chardonnay?”
Ian continued to look at him.
Gray sighed and relented. Maybe talking about Sophie would clear his head.
“Okay, so Sophie might kind of be getting to me. But not in the good way, just…She’s just always there.”
Ian whistled. “I was right. You are hitting on the help.”
“Don’t call her that,” Gray snapped more sharply than he’d intended.
Ian glanced at him in surprise, and Gray leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, the game temporarily forgotten.
“Shit,” Gray breathed. “I don’t know what to do. This girl drives me crazy. And she’s my assistant, for Christ’s sake. She’s gorgeous but snotty. She has these massive self-esteem issues and yet is incredibly determined in what she wants. Most of the time I think she hates my guts, and yet sometimes there are these looks…”
“Hold on, let me get us some tampons,” Ian said.
Gray glowered, even as he deserved it. Babbling wasn’t his style, but he’d never been in a relationship that gave him so many headaches. Hell, this wasn’t even a relationship. It was just…an inability to escape from the other person.
Sophie was too bubbly and unpredictable. Too much passion, not enough substance. Maybe that made her sort of magnetic, but should he be investing his valuable time thinking about her? Definitely not. He had a business to run, siblings to look out for, a godson to take to baseball games, and a girlfriend to make love to.
Plus, he wasn’t her type. She went after the flighty, artistic types. The party boys. There’s no way she would think of him as anything other than an experimental fling. Not that he wanted her to.
He just wanted…