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I was so fucked.
TWELVE
DERRICK
Amelia came sailingup to the table wearing a bright yellow dress with white polka dots, white shoes with yellow polka dots, and a smile even more cheerful than the outfit. As she delivered a smacking kiss to my cheek, I wondered at the fact that we were even related. We had the same color hair and eyes, but I didn’t do cheerful or warm greetings—hell, I barely smiled.
But my sister was all about those things. Somehow, she had grown into a warm, sweet woman despite a childhood where our father mostly ignored us and our mom felt forced to dole out affection in small, closely guarded doses for fear of being accused of spoiling us.
Amelia dropped into the chair and eyed the tumbler in front of me. “Drinking already?”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Isn’t that a saying?” Despite my flippant response, I pushed the glass further away rather than taking another drink.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a song, and it’s barely noon.”
I didn’t want to tell her I was trying to take the edge off a hangover caused by too much whiskey the night before. After going back to my place – alone – I’d imbibed a little too much to help me sleep because that single kiss with Jessica had left me more turned on than I’d been in a long while. I’d barely touched her all night, and I was dying to have her under me.
Was that it? The chase? Was it because she wasn’t falling all over herself to get in my bed? Sure, she agreed to date me and marry me, but she’d stated in no uncertain terms that she had no plans to sleep with me.
Still, she hadn’t stopped me from kissing her.
“Earth to Derrick!”
Jerking my head up, I found Amelia resting her elbows on the table and looking at me with a wry smile.
“Am I that boring?” she asked. As our server approached, she gave him a charming smile and asked him, “Do I look boring to you?”
“Don’t answer that,” I told the young man before he could speak, and then I scowled at my sister. “You’re never boring.”
“We need a few more minutes,” she said to our waiter. “Thank you, sweetie.”
The guy flushed and hurried away. Amelia barely noticed, but that wasn’t anything new. She rarely understood the effect she had on guys, particularly the impressionable ones.
“All right, big brother,” she turned back to me, “tell me why you’re staring a hole through the table.”
“I was just thinking about my new book.” Knowing she’d lose interest fast, I leaned back and picked up my scotch.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh. That.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Tipping my drink toward her, I said, “You’ll hurt my feelings.”
“You’re a pick-up artist, darling brother.” She paused in her conversation with me as the server came back. After giving her order, she continued, “I love you dearly, Derrick, but if I met a man like you—”
“I’d beat him senseless,” I cut in with a chuckle.
Amelia deserved to be wined and dined, cherished and worshiped. She wasn’t like the women I hooked up with.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Am I so different from every other female out there—so precious that I deserve respect, but others don’t?”
“I…” Hating that she’d just put my thoughts into words, I put the glass on the table and gave her a dark look. “That’s not what I said. And you know that I’m always upfront with the women I’m with. I never make promises that I don’t keep.”
“I know.” She smiled a little, but her eyes were still a little sad. “That’s the worst part. You should. You could make somebody so happy if you’d try trusting people every now and then. Maybe somebody could even make you happy.”
“I’m happy with my life like it is,” I said, fighting the urge to snap at her. It was clear to me that she just wanted me to be happy, not understanding that I didn't want the same life as she did.
“Fine.” She huffed out a breath. “Let’s change the subject. You’re getting snarly on me.”
I wanted to argue that point, but decided not to bother. She wasn’t wrong, after all. “Mom texted that you two went to the opening night for that play you’ve been talking about. Was it any good?”