Page 11 of Players Like Us (Reunion Gap #7)

N eal should have kept his mouth shut about trying out local cuisine and measuring the competition.

Why had he gone and done something so foolish?

A trip to the famed Calvin’s Chop House meant time alone with Rachel looking beautiful and elegant in a red halter dress, auburn hair twisted into a chignon, gold earrings dangling against her neck.

Such a slender neck...flawless...definitely kissable. ..

Why had he not kept the meetings to a business environment where upscale restaurants and halter dresses were not involved?

The woman had started to occupy too much of his time and his brain space and he didn’t like it.

She was intriguing—he’d give her that—and she really didn’t seem to be in awe of him, which given their history in the back seat of his car was interesting.

Maybe she hadn’t even liked him back then, maybe she’d just wanted to borrow his expertise in a particular area a.k.a. sex. And maybe—

“Neal? Do you have any recommendations?”

He glanced up, and for just a second got lost in those amber eyes and red lips. He blinked, blinked again. “If you’re interested in seafood, then go with the crab-stuffed salmon. If you want steak, the filet medallions Oscar would be my choice.”

A nod and then she glanced around the restaurant as though she’d never seen such a grand place.

Her full lips pulled into a tiny smile. Of awe?

Of joy? Of what? He cleared his throat, homed in on the appetizer menu.

“Let’s try the honey-mint lamb skewers and the caprese salad kabobs.

Plus, I’ll add another one.” He didn’t miss the slight scrunch of her nose or the tiny frown when the waiter took their order and Neal mentioned beef carpaccio.

But when the appetizers arrived, he caught her staring at the beef carpaccio choice as if she might gag. “Have you ever tried it?”

“Not really. Almost, but…”

“You should. You want to make sure it’s from a quality restaurant though.

” He held out a hand for her plate, added a slice along with a forkful of arugula.

“Same with ahi tuna. The first time I tried ahi, I was twelve. Our father insisted we learn the finer art of dining. I took a bite because there was no option not to but I couldn’t swallow it.

I kept chewing and chewing and it got fishier and fishier and I swear I was going to throw up right on the dining room table.

I eased the napkin off my lap and Tate must have figured out I was going to spit it into my napkin.

He shook his head, and it was barely noticeable, but I saw it.

It was like he was telling me I had to swallow it, like the old man was testing me.

That’s all I needed. I swallowed that damn tuna, grabbed two more slices, and tore into them.

” A half smile, a shrug. “Dinner at our house was always interesting and always a test. Don’t use the right utensils, you get sent to your room.

Make a face at your sibling? You get to write a three-page report on respect and decorum.

Who the hell knows what that even means when you’re twelve?

” Neal shoved a piece of carpaccio in his mouth, chewed until his jaw hurt.

The memories of those years still tormented him, as did the man who’d ruined their childhood.

“It must have been very difficult. Our parents always gave us the line of eating because there were too many people who didn’t have enough food, but we were also allowed to take ‘no thank you’ helpings.

” She eyed the carpaccio, carefully lifted a piece onto her fork and placed it in her mouth.

Nibbled. Smiled. “This is good. Really good.”

“It’s one of my favorites. The ahi tuna? Not so much.”

Rachel placed more beef carpaccio and arugula on her plate, along with a honey-mint lamb skewer, and a caprese salad kabob. She forked a piece of lamb, hesitated a few seconds. “Neal?”

“Hmm?” He wondered if she’d be willing to try bone marrow or smoked trout p?té. Maybe even—

“Is that why you’ve always been against doing what’s expected and following rules?”

The gentle tone hinted at sympathy and he did not want that.

Neal grabbed his wine glass, took a healthy swallow.

“I don’t know. Probably.” Why was he telling her this?

He’d never gotten that close to admitting it to anyone other than Tate and that was years ago, when he’d been arrested for stealing cigarettes from the gas station.

“I can’t imagine growing up in a house where you didn’t feel safe, where you had to watch everything you said…” Pause and this time there was no mistaking the sympathy. “But I’m sorry you had to…”

Oh, no . He was not going to let her have a pity party for him.

“Do not feel sorry for me. Tate said it made us stronger, made us more wary of people and situations who were trying to harm us. Maybe that was true for him, but I’m not so sure about Meredith and me.

We just wanted to be kids, do normal kid stuff: laugh, run up and down the stairs, jump on the beds.

Not happening in the Alexander mansion, not when the old man was around.

If you made too much noise or broke something—and what kid doesn’t drop a glass or a dish—you got sent to your room.

Not watching television. Not listening to music.

” All those memories slid back into his brain, saturated it.

“The old man was very big on structure and if we weren’t writing a report, we were helping the gardeners spread mulch, dig ditches, fertilize those damnable roses he loved so much. ”

She stared at him as though she could not comprehend what he was telling her.

“Tate never spent time alone in his room, not unless he wanted to, and I can’t ever recall a shovel in his hands.

I doubt he’d know what to do with it, but he relied on his quick wit and brains to stay out of trouble.

Me? I plowed straight ahead, landed in all sorts of messes, most of them of my own making.

I just could not keep my mouth shut.” He let out a laugh, shook his head.

“I spent a lot of time in my room, mostly planning my escape once I graduated. As for Meredith, our father just ignored her because she was only a girl, so she didn’t count. ”

Rachel paused, another slice of carpaccio close to her lips. “What do you mean she didn’t count because she was only a girl?”

“I don’t feel that way. She’s special and talented and has gifts that can’t be measured by a spreadsheet or boardroom meetings, though I hear she’s become quite the businesswoman.

Wouldn’t matter though because Harrison Alexander was not going to place Meredith in a position with the company.

” A shrug, a half smile. “And he certainly wasn’t going to put his ‘good for nothing but trouble’ younger son in any of them. ”

She reached across the table, clasped his hand.

“We shouldn’t let our parents define us.

I did that for a lot of years, but I finally had to realize while I might have disappointed them and not been as perfect as my brother, I still had value.

I fought it for so long and tried to blame them, blame Daniel, blame the whole world.

” She squeezed his hand, offered a smile.

“That’s why this design job with Matilda’s is so important.

Daniel told me it was foolish to study interior design, that it would take years, if ever, to establish myself.

He said I needed to be sensible. ” Her voice shifted, filled with emotion.

“And yet what did he do? He made bowls and vases and starved for years before he was discovered. He followed his passion, why couldn’t he just let me follow mine? ”

Neal thought he had the answer, but he wasn’t sure she’d want to hear it. “I guess maybe he wondered if that really was your passion, or if you were just trying the next thing.”

She eased her hand from his, lips pinched, voice tight. “Still, he had no right to tell me what to do or whom to see, or…”

“Ah, is this about those weirdos you used to hang out with...? The bad boys in the hot rods?”

Rachel might not be happy about his comment, but she couldn’t hide her curiosity. “How could you possibly know who I was interested in?”

Now there was a question, one he didn’t plan to answer. “We might not have traveled in the same circles, but I always wondered why you hung out with those types when you were so much better. I just never understood why you didn’t see it.”

She leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “There were moments when I wondered the same thing about you.”

Neal stared at her, tried to dissect her words and interpret her expression. He was usually so good at both, but he couldn’t find the truth in either. What if she were serious? What did that mean? And if she weren’t, then...

The laugh came first, followed by a wide smile and a sparkle in her eyes. “You are so gullible.” Another laugh, a long sigh and then, “If I’d known this in high school, I wouldn’t have been so intimidated by you.”

“I hide my faults well.” Of course, she hadn’t been interested in him back then. At least not for anything other than a particular skill, which he’d refused. Neal squashed memories of that summer night and tore into a hunk of bread.

“Neal?”

He glanced up, caught her watching him. “Yes?”

“So, why do you challenge rules? Is it because you had so many growing up?”

He was supposed to be the one gathering information about her , not the other way around.

He’d definitely revealed way more than he should have, and it had to stop.

“Maybe I’m just a lost cause who gets bored with ‘normal’ and likes to cause havoc.

Ever think of that?” He expected her to shoot a comeback, some sarcastic quip, but she didn’t and he wished she had.

“I used to think that, but now I don’t know...”