Something uncomfortable moves in my chest.
“I just like to keep a clear mind when in the company of such beautiful women.” I turn my charm on to stop her from asking any more questions that I’m not in the mood to answer.
“What’s everyone having?” Andi says, opening her menu.
I flicker an appreciative look to her, to which she smiles.
I’m not an alcoholic because coming off the drink hasn’t been too hard. But I was using it as a crutch, and until I know I can drink for the enjoyment again, I’m staying off it. I just don’t want to have to explain myself to a complete stranger.
I open my menu, noting the fact that Kat hasn’t moved her leg from against mine. Then, I see her hand drop into her lap, and she starts to inch it toward my leg.
Okay. She moves fast.
Not that I have a problem with fast. I’m just not going to go there with her.
No chemistry, no fucking.
Her fingertips have just made it to my thigh when the waitress returns with my drink, so Kat retracts her hand, placing it on the table.
When I lift my eyes, I catch Carrick grinning at me.
I give him a fuck-off look, to which he chuckles.
“I’ve decided.” Carrick slaps his menu shut. “What are you having, babe?” he asks Andi.
“I can’t decide.”
“What about the veal?”
Smiling, she shakes her head, and he laughs, clearly sharing a private joke. Taking her hand in his, he kisses it.
I feel a small pang in my chest at the realization that I might never have that with someone.
“Hey, Carrick, look. Dr. Harris is here.”
Andi’s words have my eyes snapping up from the table.
Turning his head in the direction where Andi is looking, Carrick says, “Oh, yeah.”
My eyes search her out, but a pillar is blocking my view, and I can’t see her from where I’m seated.
“Who’s Dr. Harris?” Kat asks.
“She’s my therapist,” Andi answers with ease.
The Andi before India would have had a problem answering that question. She was secretive and kept things to herself—her words, not mine—but since India has being treating her, Andi is more open, less afraid to tell people things about herself.
“I’ve had—sometimes still have—worries over Carrick’s racing, and she’s helps me deal with it,” Andi explains to Kat.
I slide a glance at Carrick, and the fucker is grinning at me.
I know it’s not because he’ll say anything about me seeing India, and neither will Andi.
Then, about two seconds later, I see the reason for his grin when India comes into view, and so does the man she’s with.
She’s on a date?
I feel like I’ve just been punched in the chest.
Is this the guy she was on the phone with the other week? The one she said, “I love you,” to?
The guy looks like a dick. Sure, I can’t see him properly from here, but he’s definitely not good enough for her.
No man could be.
She’s amazing.
And she looks beautiful tonight. She always looks gorgeous, but tonight, seeing her out of her work clothes, makes her look different.
Her hair is down, like usual, the blonde ends brushing her shoulders, and her lips are painted red.
But she’s wearing a pretty white dress. It’s fitted over the bust and waist and flares out at the bottom.
She looks like a fucking angel.
“I’m gonna go over and say hello.” Andi rises from her seat.
I watch as she walks over to India. I see the real smile that India gives Andi and feel the envy at the hug she receives from India. And I stare unabashed as India introduces Andi to the dickhead she’s with.
I sip my lemonade as Andi turns, pointing to where we’re sitting. India’s blue eyes meet with me, and I feel a jolt go down my spine, careening straight for my dick.
Andi says something to her, and then they’re moving toward us.
How do I handle this?
Do I pretend not to know her?
I don’t want Kat to know I’m seeing a therapist. I don’t know the chick, and she could tell someone or sell it to the press. I don’t want that shit spattered all over the news.
Leandro Silva Seeing a Shrink.
Yeah, no, thanks.
Then, India’s standing by our table with the dickhead, and all rational thought leaves my mind.
I have to force myself not to stare. So, I give the dickhead a quick once-over.
Gray suit. Floppy blond hair. He looks like he just fell out of a Hugh Grant movie.
Prick.
“Dr. Harris, it’s nice to see you again.” Carrick is on his feet, greeting her.
He kisses her cheek, and I feel the urge to punch him.
“I’m still just India.” She laughs.
The sound greets my dick like a sweet kiss from her red lips.
“Yeah, never could get used to calling you by your first name.”
I decide to take decisive action—or should I call it, playing games?
Standing from the table, I reach a hand over it and say to India, “Leandro Silva. Nice to meet you.”
As she brings her eyes to mine, there’s no flicker of surprise, so maybe she expected me to act like I didn’t know her.
It kind of pisses me off that she was expecting it.
She slides her hand into mine, and I feel like she’s burned me.
“India Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Leandro.”
Our eyes lock.
She looks away first and looks straight at Kat.
Is that jealousy or disapproval in her eyes?
I hope for jealousy.
Her lips press together, the way they do when I tell her about something or someone I’ve done that she thinks is a bad choice for me.