Chapter Eight

“Are you sure you don’t want him? Because I’ll take him off your hands in a heartbeat,” Shireen whispered.

Caitlyn shushed her, hoping the men across the table hadn’t overheard the comment.

The restaurant Spencer had picked was beautiful, with Spanish tiles decorating the walls and a live guitarist filling the air with music. They’d ordered a dozen little plates that now dotted the tabletop, a pitcher of nearly empty sangria in the center.

She’d been fearing an awkward evening, but instead of being combative, Damien had turned on the charm.

It was probably for Shireen’s benefit, but Caitlyn had found herself wishing she could see this side of him more often.

You’ll never see it again once you’re both back in Boston.

He’d go back to hating her then, she was sure. All she’d ever have of this less vicious version of Damien was this conference.

Better enjoy it, then.

“Back off, he’s temporarily mine,” she whispered back to Shireen.

“I think he wholeheartedly agrees with you,” her friend replied. “I’m surprised the tablecloth hasn’t caught fire yet from those looks the two of you keep exchanging.”

“Mockery is super kind right now. I appreciate the support.”

“Girl, you don’t need support. You need a bed and a condom.”

She’s got a point.

“I’ll settle for a sangria top up.”

“Here, allow me,” Damien said, reaching for the pitcher.

She exchanged a panicked glance with Shireen before assuring herself only the last sentence had been said loudly enough to be overheard.

“Thanks,” she said as he filled her glass.

“No problem,” he replied.

“Did Damien ever tell you about the year we spent studying abroad in Spain?” Spencer said, twirling the sangria in his own glass. “I, for one, never wanted to come home.”

“That’s amazing,” she said. “How’d you end up doing that?”

“Spencer got into the program, and I couldn’t let him go alone. Someone’s boyfriend or husband would have murdered him,” Damien said.

Spencer grinned. “I knew if I told him I was leaving, he’d follow me. Poor boy couldn’t stand to be alone.”

“I can’t imagine Damien ever needing anyone,” she said.

The words were meant teasingly, but the intensity of the stare he leveled on her was anything but light.

“Those were the days before Papa Reid started roping him into the company,” Spencer said, oblivious to the tension. “He was a different person then.”

“Really,” she said, her eyes on Damien. “How different?”

Spencer downed his drink and waved the waiter over to refill their pitcher. “He laughed easily. Was always down for a party. Wandered around with his sketch pad everywhere.”

“Sketch pad?” she asked.

“That was a long time ago,” Damien cut in.

“Sounds fun,” Shireen said. “Do you still draw?”

“No,” he replied. “No time for it anymore.”

There’s another sad sentence.

Why did he have so many of them?

“We backpacked across Europe, and the one thing you could always count on him having was that damned notebook. Remember when you left it in Vienna? He made me take a train back to get it when we were already an hour away.”

“If I remember correctly, that lead to an epic Austria weekend that you said was a highlight of the trip,” Damien said mildly.

“I’d love to see one of your drawings sometime,” she said.

His gaze shot back to hers. There was a long pause before the corner of his mouth twitched. “We can arrange that.”

Does he mean in Boston?

Were they thinking beyond the imposed timeline of the conference?

“Tell us more about this Spanish exchange,” Shireen said, leaning forward to cross her arms on the table. “What else did you two get up to?”

“What didn’t we do?” Spencer said.

“Study,” Damien cut in.

“True.”

She smiled. “I always wanted to study abroad. You guys are lucky.”

“Why didn’t you?” Damien asked.

She shrugged. “We reinvested every cent back into the company. I started helping out at the labs at an early age, so by university I was studying and working. It would have been too hard to juggle everything if I’d been on the other side of the world.”

“Always the dutiful daughter, hmm?” he said.

“Always,” she agreed.

Even before her dad had gotten sick, she’d known the company came first. Before her mother. Before her. It was just the way it had to be. The work her father had done had kept hundreds of people employed, and many more had benefited from the drugs they’d helped develop. He’d grown an empire out of nothing, and his family had been a small price to pay for it. She’d never resented him for those decisions.

Much.

“That’s where you get your work ethic from,” Shireen said.

“Probably.”

“You guys are making me feel unsuccessful. In undergrad I was drinking too much and sleeping in too late,” her friend said.

“I’ll drink to that,” Spencer said, clinking his glass against Shireen’s.

“In hindsight, I wish I’d been a little wilder,” she said. “Missed opportunities.”

“It’s never too late to make a few bad decisions,” Damien replied.

“Except now I’m an adult who understands the consequences of my actions.”

“Still,” Shireen said. “Doing the wrong thing every now and then can feel so good.”

“Agreed,” Spencer chimed in.

“You guys are a bad influence. I thought that was supposed to end in high school.”

“I do my best to shake her up a bit every time we meet at this conference,” Shireen said.

“Does it ever work?” Spencer replied.

“Rarely.”

“Not one to let loose?” Damien asked, leaning forward.

“How is the spotlight now on me? You two lived in another country. That’s far more interesting. Let’s talk about that.”

“I side with Shireen on this one,” Damien said as he met her eyes. “Sometimes we’re faced with opportunities we know we shouldn’t…indulge in. But doing the wrong thing for a few hours can be exhilarating.”

Like you’d be. In my bed.

“Sorry I’m so boring.”

His lips curved. “Cupcake, you are the least boring woman I’ve ever met. No offense, Shireen.”

“None taken,” Shireen said. “But what did you just call her?”

“Ignore him. Spencer, what else did Damien do in his youth that he doesn’t anymore?” she asked.

“Let’s see. Young Damien was pretty similar in other ways.”

“Which is good for you. I got us out of all the scrapes you got us into.”

“We made the perfect team.”

Damien rolled his eyes, holding out his glass to the waiter, who’d arrived with more sangria.

“I’m impressed your parents let you go,” she said as the waiter made the rounds to all their glasses.

“To be fair, he was three months into the year before they noticed,” Spencer said as he downed half his glass in a few gulps.

“What?” She turned to Damien. “How’s that possible?”

He waved a hand. “We checked in at Christmas and the summer. They got a copy of my grades each semester. As long as they stayed good, my parents stayed away.”

Her jaw dropped. “But you were a kid.”

“Eighteen is old enough to take responsibility for your own life,” he said. The words were rote, as if he were remembering them. “Once I hit that landmark, the parental unit eased off considerably.”

“That seems harsh,” Shireen said.

“That’s why he collected such excellent friends,” Spencer replied.

“Exactly. Who needs a real family when they have you on speed dial?” Damien asked.

“Everyone,” she breathed.

Three sets of eyes zeroed in on her. “Sorry, Spencer,” she said, realizing she’d spoken aloud. “I just meant, we all need our people. I can’t imagine life without my family.”

“By all accounts, the Brookses are far better people than the Reids,” Damien said.

“You’re speaking about your parents.”

“And yours. I’ve never been overly sentimental about anything. It’s not difficult to face the truth about who raised me.”

She blinked at the cynical words. “You have to have some sort of touch point in your life. If not your family, then what?”

“I do well enough on my own,” Damien replied.

“Because it’s the better way, or because you’ve simply learned how?”

Silence stretched across the table.

“Calling me weak, Brooks?” he asked, his voice deceptively even.

“No,” she replied while their other two companions watched their exchange with interest. “That’s not a word that could ever be applied to you. Prideful, stubborn, diabolical, sure, all those fit. But it’s not weakness to need other human contact. That’s just a basic necessity.”

He held her gaze for a long moment before saying, “Not in the Reid household.”

“Then as an intelligent adult, you should see that trait for the nonsense it is and correct it.”

“Have any candidates in mind for my new family?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be mean. You know I’m right.”

“That’s the problem,” Damien said. “You’re always infuriatingly right.”

Surprise swept through her. So many of their encounters had left her feeling like she’d failed. Like Goliath had come in and trampled her.

Had those exchanges played out differently from his perspective?

“Awk-ward,” Shireen said, stressing the word.

She blinked and leaned back. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You two are totally just rivals and nothing more,” Spencer said.

“How many glasses have you had?” Damien asked him.

“Not nearly enough to handle the sexual tension,” he replied, refilling his drink.

“You may be my new favorite person,” Shireen said, holding out her glass for a refill, too.

“Back at you, darling.”

“Let’s change the topic,” Caitlyn said diplomatically. “Spencer, tell us about New York.”

“Blah,” Shireen cut in. “Sorry, but there’s a reason I don’t live in the East. Tell us more about Damien’s damaged past.”

“I’m not damaged,” he said.

Three people snorted.

“People in glass houses. Just saying,” he replied.

Fair point.

“Damien was always the knight among us,” Spencer said, ignoring his friend. “You could count on him to make sure everyone got home on our nights out. He’d come through with an epic paper at the last minute on group projects. And he even rescued a damsel in distress one evening when we came upon a drunk girl making friends with a flower.”

“Been there,” Shireen said.

“He always had a chivalrous streak in him.”

She leaned back with a frown.

Am I a damsel in distress to him?

Was she rousing protective instincts when the last thing she wanted was a man riding to her rescue?

Damien tossed her a sardonic smile as if he could read her thoughts. “You’re not a damsel in distress, Caitlyn,” he said. “More often than not, you’re the freaking dragon.”

Another woman may have taken issue with the comment. But to her it was the sweetest compliment she could have received, and her smile said so.

“Perfect man, twelve o’clock,” Shireen whispered to her.

Don’t I know it.

…

He hadn’t meant anything by his comment. Really, he hadn’t.

Yet Caitlyn was staring at him as if he’d just given her a gift.

Some unnamable emotion rose within him. One that wanted to ensure she always looked at him the way she was now. He shifted uneasily at the thought.

Temporary. This needs to be temporary.

Because Spencer was right. He didn’t have any room in his life for family. Dating someone like Caitlyn could only lead to serious. Fast.

I’m not ready for that.

He probably never would be.

Even if a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered she might be everything he’d been waiting for.

She’s a good person, and I had a front-row seat to the train wreck that was my parents’ marriage.

If he was smart, he’d stay the hell away from her before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“What about you two?” Shireen asked. “You seem like unlikely friends.”

He tore his gaze away from Caitlyn. “You’re right. I did my best to get rid of him.”

“Like hell. We were sorted into the same dorm in our first year and Mr. Socially Awkward over there needed a buddy to go out in public. Honestly, you should have seen the things he said to girls. It bordered on murdery.”

“I just asked Elizabeth Carmer to go stargazing with me,” Damien said.

“Tell the whole story.”

He sighed. “I may have asked her to drive off the beaten trail into a dark forest with me without her knowing who the hell I was.”

“See? Murdery.”

“I chose to see it as romantic.”

“Her horrified look said otherwise.”

He would have objected more, but the delighted expression on Caitlyn’s face stilled his words.

For the first time, he was seeing her open and unguarded. He thanked the generous flow of sangria for that—and Spencer, who proved once again to be the perfect foil. How often had they done this in school? Riffing off each other to charm the women around them. It was easy to fall back into the old habit.

Except the old him wouldn’t have cared which woman he charmed.

Tonight, there was only one person on his mind.

She’s all I want.

All week he’d been meeting interesting people from every industry. The amount of offers for after-conference activities had not been lost on him.

But he’d turned down each and every one.

For her. It has to be her.

No other woman would do.

You’re in trouble. Deep trouble.

It was like he was in high school again. One kiss had him in knots.

All for a girl with tousled red hair and eyes too big for her face.

What is it about her that makes her so…

Special.

“We all learned how to flirt the hard way,” Caitlyn said, clearly trying to help him.

Wrong move, Brooks.

“Sounds likes there’s a disastrous story in your past, too.”

Her eyes widened, seeing her mistake too late to correct it.

“Tell us more,” Spencer said, resting his chin in his palm, elbow balanced on the table.

“No, no, trust me, there is no story.”

“I do not trust you even slightly on that,” Shireen said.

“It’s nothing.”

“Gotta tell us now,” Spencer said as he took a drink.

He watched her gaze dart around as she looked for an out. With none forthcoming, however, she relented. “It’s not an exciting story. In high school I was super shy. When I finally worked up the courage to ask out the boy I’d been crushing on, he was surprised and asked when I’d transferred into the school. We’d taken at least two classes together every grade for four years.”

The other two erupted into laughter with Caitlyn smiling gamely along with them.

But he’d heard the underlying pain in her story. And despite her smile, when she glanced his way, he could see the devastation below the tale.

Kids are idiots.

Couldn’t they have seen what a gem she was, even if her voice had been quiet?

“His loss,” he said before he could think twice. “You’ve become the boss of hundreds of people. Nothing about you is quiet now.”

Something gentled in her eyes as she stared at him. “Exactly. His loss.”

Will it be mine, too?

As the conversation moved on, and the wine continued to flow, he wondered if it just might be.