Those were the words I had been dying to hear someone else say instead of me just chanting them to myself in the mirror.
“Look, I never do this, and I have no idea how to even go about asking, but will you be my date to my sister’s wedding?” The crimson that dusted over his cheeks made me weak in the knees.
“You know I am going to be working. I can’t be your date.” I damned the words that were coming out of my mouth. This incredible man was asking me out and I had to decline.
“There is that tiny detail. I think I can work with it, though.”
“How?”
“Trust me, you’re going to be much more interesting to follow around than dealing with my family, not to mention the groom’s insufferable family members.” He rolled his eyes as he leaned against his restored Camaro. I hadn’t even noticed the gorgeous car until that moment.
“What is the deal with him? It’s plain as day you don’t like the guy.” I couldn’t help but be nosy. I had seen my share of disapproving family members in my time, but Trace took the cake on how forthcoming he was about his loathsome feelings toward his future brother-in-law.
“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“I always have time for coffee.”
“Follow me.”
* * *
Sittingdown with Trace in my regular café felt all too right and totally uncomfortable at the same time. I didn’t know why he had been able to hook me so quickly, but I wasn’t complaining.
“I needed this.” He sighed, relaxing back in his chair with a cup clutched in his large hand.
“It’s the nectar of the gods.” Shifting in my seat, I tried to not stare at Trace’s gorgeous green eyes.
“So you wanted to know about Rayford,” he offered up swiftly.
I nodded, sipping from my steaming mug.
“My sister was never a girly girl. She liked hunting, fishing, and working on cars with me and my father. Then the minute she meets a rich priss who expects her to become a 1950s house wife in sundresses and pearls, she gives up her hobbies. I just see her with someone else.”
His candor was refreshing.
“She seems happy,” I mumbled.
Crossing his arms, he looked right at me. “She’s comfortable and spoiled. Money doesn’t make a relationship last. It just puts a Band-Aid over the unhappiness for a brief amount of time.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
He just sat there, scowling. “It’s a little too late for all of that. She knows how I feel. I know she’s not really happy, but my little sister is going to be Mrs. Rayford King. It doesn’t help that my mother is overly excited that her little girl is marrying into old Southern money.” He shook his head.
“I get the whole family pressure crap. It’s awful.”
“At least someone gets it and had the balls to rebel a little.” There it was, the shit-eating grin that made my heart race.
“If you asked my parents, they’d tell you I was a destitute loser who was one step away from eating at a soup kitchen,” I admitted.
“But what if you were dating the CFO of a thriving business?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
I giggled. “That would really put a damper on my streak of rebellion.”
“I think you should give it a try. Have dinner with me on Friday night.”
I ran my hand over my face. “I can’t. I have a girls’ night planned to celebrate my friend’s home being finished.”
“That was the fastest shutdown in history,” Trace teased as his face twisted into a frown.