Troy Page 2

He cupped her face and kissed her, giving her a scorching kiss that was only appropriate behind a locked door.

  “Okay…enough of that.” They could be in love all they wanted but they could play tonsil hockey on their own time.

  “Sorry.” Kara released a faint chuckle. “Sometimes we get carried away.”

  Sebastian rubbed his nose against hers. “We need to learn self-control.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes in disgust. “What are you guys getting?”

  That seemed to pull them out of their smooch-fest.

  “The lemon chicken sounds good,” she said as she looked at Sebastian’s menu.

  “Good choice, sweetheart,” he said. “I think I’ll get the same.”

  First, they had to share a menu, and then they had to order the same thing? God, they’re annoying. I don’t even care if I’m a bitch for thinking it.

  Mom and Dad entered the restaurant. Dad wore slacks and a collared shirt, his usual attire even if he wasn’t working, and mom looked like the first lady in her fine white dress that reached the area just above her knees. Her hair was in an elegant up do, and she held herself like she was the Queen of England.

  Why couldn’t I have a normal family that just went out for hot wings?

  “Darling, you look wonderful.” Mom hugged Kara and held her tightly.

  Darling? My mom tried to act British sometimes and just couldn’t pull it off.

  “Sebastian, it’s a pleasure to see you.” Dad hugged him then patted him on the shoulder.

  “You too, sir. We need to get together and hit the green soon,” Sebastian replied.

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Dad said.

  Uh, hello? Do they not see me?

  “How’s the modeling going, dear?” Mom asked like a stuck-up prude.

  “It’s so much fun,” Kara said. “They let me keep some of the shoes so I save so much money.”

  Mom chuckled and released a high-pitched, annoying laugh. “Every job has its pros.”

  Like she would know because she’s never worked a day in her life.

  “How’s the hospital?” Dad asked Sebastian.

  “Great,” he said. “Juggling ten or more patients at once is difficult but I manage.”

  Sebastian was a doctor just like my dad. While Dad was a plastic surgeon, Sebastian was an emergency room physician. They had a lot in common, and of course, my parents loved Sebastian the second he told them what he did for a living. So my sister landed a handsome doctor for a boyfriend, and probably a husband very soon.

  No one cared about what I did for a living.

  Mom finally moved to me. “Hello, Harper.” She hugged me but it was slightly less warm than the affection she gave Kara. I always felt like the lesser-loved sibling. I tried not to let it bother me, but sometimes it just got under my skin.

  “Hey, Mom. I like your dress.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t compliment me back.

  Typical.

  “Hey, honey.” Dad hugged me then patted me on the back a little too hard.

  It irritated me that neither one of them asked how my job was going. I may not be a supermodel or a doctor, but I thought my profession was pretty cool. Being an interior designer wasn’t easy. It was extremely competitive and difficult to make a living at. But no, no one in my family was impressed by that—except Kara.

  We sat down at the table and picked up our menus. Naturally, my parents asked Sebastian about every detail of his life, including his beach house in the Hamptons.

  I liked Sebastian a lot because he was successful and good-looking, but the thing I cared most about was the fact he was so humble about it. He seemed oblivious to his qualities, but my sister was the exact same way so they fit together perfectly.

  Then my parents asked Kara every detail of her life. Bubbly and buoyant like usual, she let them interrogate her without a hint of annoyance. Then the conversation went back and forth between Kara and Sebastian.

  I didn’t feel like being interrogated but I felt annoyed that I was left out.

  “How’s the business, Harper?” Kara said with interest. She was the only person who seemed to genuinely care.

  “Good,” I said. “The office looks nice and more clients are rolling in.”

  “You need to do my apartment next,” she said. “I’m terrible when it comes to decorating. I couldn’t even decide what color bed comforter to get. That’s how pathetic I am.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re pathetic, baby.” Sebastian rubbed her shoulder. “I loved the curtains you put up in my living room.”

  He was probably lying but he hid it well. My sister was great, but she did have horrible sense when it came to decorating and matching. One time she wore a thick vest with shorts.

  No wonder why she was a swimsuit model.

  Sebastian turned to me. “Congratulations, Harper. Being an interior designer in Manhattan is quite an accomplishment. That’s probably the most competitive field you can get into.”

  Thank you. I wanted to glare at both of my parents. “Thanks…I really enjoy it.”

  “So cool,” Kara said. “Next time my model friends redesigns their apartment, I’ll recommend you.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Very nice,” Mom said, but it was only half-asked.

  Dad asked Sebastian another question about medicine, and I knew my time to shine was over.

  I sipped my wine and tried to pretend I wasn’t seething.

  Mom turned to me, and judging the look in her eyes and the way her lips were pressed tightly together, she was going to interrogate me about my personal life—like usual. That seemed to be the only thing she cared about. If I had a serious boyfriend, would she actually start to like me? Or only if he was a doctor or a lawyer?

  “So, any men in your life?” she asked tersely, like she already knew the answer.

  “No.” I sipped my wine again.

  Dad turned to me, like he was somewhat interested in the conversation.

  “No dates or anything?” Mom asked.

  “No,” I said. “Too busy with work.”

  Judging the look on her face, that was the wrong thing to say. “Then you need to make time, Harper.” When she said my name like that, I knew she was irritated. “Your younger sister seems to make time for it.”

  Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her.

  “Mom,” Kara interrupted. “Harper will find Mr. Right when it’s meant to happen. Don’t worry about it.”

  I could kiss her.

  “Have you tried online dating?” Mom asked.

  Getting dates wasn’t hard. It was finding the right date that was impossible. “Mom, how’s the charity foundation going?”

  She rambled on about that for a while. Changing the subject only worked if you were somewhat complimenting the person’s ego.

  When I glanced at Kara, she winked at me.

  At least I averted the crisis—for now.

  After dinner was finished, I was excited to leave. I could only handle my parents in small doses. Kara and Sebastian were angels compared to them, but even they were annoying—unintentionally.

  I kept eyeing the waiter, hoping he would bring the tab over so we could pay and get it over with. He kept moving around to the other tables, clearly too busy to slip us the bill.

  Ugh.

  Sebastian cleared his throat then adjusted his chair, sliding away from Kara. “There’s something I want to say and…I think now is the time to say it.”

  What? What did I miss?

  My parents were both silent, and my mom’s eyes started to water.

  Holy shit. Sebastian is going to propose.

  Sebastian lowered himself to one knee and extended a tiny box. “Kara, you are my life and the other half of my soul. It’s only been a year but I don’t need more time. You are what I want forever. So please be mine.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Kara’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh my god…” S
he waved the moisture away but it didn’t help. “Oh my god…”

  Sebastian smiled at her response but his eyes were just as full of emotion. He took the ring out of the box, and before waiting for her answer, he slid it onto her finger.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she said through her tears. “I love it. I love you.”

  Goddammit, my eyes are starting to water. The hopeless romantic in me was coming out.

  “I love you too.” He cupped her face and kissed her, still on one knee.

  Everyone in the restaurant started to clap and whistle.

  Mom dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “So beautiful…”

  Even Dad was a little choked up.

  Sebastian returned to his chair and held her close. “Thank you for doing me the honor of saying yes.”

  “Thank you for proposing,” she said while she blubbered.

  “We’re so excited to have you in our family, Sebastian,” Mom said emotionally.

  “Now we finally have a son,” Dad said.

  Kara and Sebastian were in their own world, the love leaking out of every poor in their body. Watching them stare at each other with nothing but love in their eyes was a beautiful thing to watch. There was no doubt on either side, and there certainly wasn’t any possibility they wouldn’t last forever. I was so happy for my sister. She was one of the rare people in the world who was gorgeous on the outside, but also gorgeous on the inside. She deserved a man like Sebastian. I finally forgot about my own pain and just basked in her joy.

  When they finally broke apart, Kara turned to me. “You’ll be my maid of honor?”

  Then the happiness drained from my body. Weddings were a joyous time, but it would also be the time where everyone would wonder why I, the older sister, didn’t even have a boyfriend. They would pity me, the older, less attractive sister. And I would have to deal with this every day until the wedding was over. But I put that aside, knowing I couldn’t be selfish. “I’d be honored.”

  As soon I got out of there, I headed to my favorite bar and took a seat on the stool. Then I tapped the wood to get the bartender’s attention and ordered something strong. “Gin and coke. Make it a double.”

  “You got it, lady.” The bartender slid the drink to me.

  I downed half of it, felt the burn in my throat, then set the glass down. My stomach was immediately warm and some of the edge was off. When I thought about this wedding, I realized how much of a pain it was going to be. I was happy for my sister, but I would pretty much be a punching bag to everyone else.

  “Drinking alone on a Thursday night?” a familiar male voice said. “Pretty pathetic.”

  I turned and watched Troy sit in the stool beside me. “I don’t see you with anyone.”

  “Really?” He held up his beer. “I beg to differ.”

  “Then I’m not alone either.” I held up my glass. “And my company is better than yours.”

  “It’s stronger, I’ll give you that.” He rested his arms on the counter, and his large arms were noticeable even in the darkness. Troy had a lean body but it was ripped with muscle. I noticed it the first time I laid eyes on him. But my attraction didn’t go past that.

  “So, why are you here alone?” I asked casually.

  “You go first.”

  I set my glass on the coaster. “How will I know if you’ll answer after I do?”

  “Because I’m not a dick.”

  I cocked an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I’m not a huge dick.”

  “Just a small dick?” I teased.

  A small grin broke out on his face. “You tell me. Is eight inches small to you?”

  I drank my glass without looking at him. I wanted to hide the redness in my cheeks. Eight inches sounded perfect to me. I hadn’t had a good lay in a while, and Troy seemed like a guy who could do a decent job.

  “I doubt you could handle eight inches,” he said. “You’re so tiny.”

  “Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t handle something big.”

  “Really?” A cocky attitude stemmed in his eyes. “Let’s find out.” He leaned toward me, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. His bicep touched mine, and I noted the heat searing his skin.

  I turned in my seat and faced him. “You know what I think?”

  “That we should head to the bathroom?” That smirk was still on his face, and I hated the fact I liked it.

  “I think you’re all talk.”

  He released a sarcastic laugh. “Just lift up your shirt and I’ll prove my size isn’t all talk.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean, sweetheart?”

  I didn’t like it when he called me that. The word wasn’t offensive. It was just the way he used it. It was full of sarcasm and annoyance. It seemed like a term he used to subtly insult someone. “I’m not your sweetheart so don’t call me that. My name is Harper.”

  “I like nicknames,” he said. “Like Battleship.”

  Battleship was Aspen’s nickname. And it stuck to her like glue. “Then pick a different one.”

  “Okay.” He rubbed his chin as he thought for a moment. “I need to know more about you to pick the right one—preferably in the bathroom.”

  “Like I said, you’re all talk.” I challenged him with my eyes as I took another drink.

  He suddenly turned serious. That smile I loved and hated disappeared off his face like a clean chalkboard. It was gone, but some of it subtly remained. His eyes lost their playfulness. “Yeah? Why is that?”

  “I’ve seen you around a lot, Troy. You never leave a bar with a girl.”

  “I’m picky.” He drank his beer and didn’t look at me.

  “You’re so picky that you never pick up a girl?” I asked incredulously.

  “Who said I never pick up girls?” he demanded. “I go through chicks like sticks of gum. They taste good for five minutes before they grow bland and dull. Then I grab a new flavor and hope for something different.”

  I didn’t know Troy that well, but I couldn’t believe that. He acted like a tough guy but I knew he was just a big sissy underneath. Arguing was the last thing I wanted to do so I let it go. “So, are you going to answer my question?”

  “Which one?” he asked. “You have so many.” Irritation was obvious in his voice.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I told you to go first.”

  “Why do I have to go first?” I asked.

  “Because you might not tell me the truth if it’s the other way around.”

  “I’m not a bitch,” I argued.

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I’m not a big bitch.”

  He took a large drink before he set his glass down. “Alright, you ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “What we share between us is a blood tie.”

  “A blood tie?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t leave the two of us. You can’t tell Aspen and I can’t tell Rhett. Do we have an understanding?”

  I extended my hand to shake his. “Deal.”

  “It’s a blood tie,” he said. “We have to seal the deal with blood.”

  “Well, I’m not a freak so a handshake will have to do.”

  He smirked then took it. “Alright, listen up.”

  I sipped my gin and crossed my legs.

  “There was this chick I was with over a year ago. We were together for a long time, about three years. Long story short, she left me. It was totally unexpected and I never knew what I did wrong. Then I saw her about a week later with some guy. Everything became clear. Anyway, I just ran into her at the grocery store. She spoke to me like we were friends.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Then she had the nerve to ask me for a favor. It took all my strength not to slap that stupid grin off her face.”

  I nodded. “That would be hard for anyone.”

  “I’m so over her and couldn’t care less about her.” His voice carried his bitterness. “But I hate her.”


  “You can’t not care about her if you hate her. Hatred is a form of emotion, whether it’s positive or not.”

  He gave me a dark look. “Don’t try to analyze me, alright? I’m just explaining why I’m here.”

  “I’m not analyzing you,” I said simply. “I’m just trying to help you.”

  “Well, I don’t need your help,” he jabbed. “Now you go.”

  Mine seemed totally immature in comparison to his, but a deal was a deal. “My younger, more attractive, sister is getting married. I’ve always been the older and less successful sister living in her shadow. My family has been hounding me to get a boyfriend for a long time and now that torment will be worse. I’m happy for my sister, but I just wished this happened when I was seriously seeing someone.”

  He didn’t put me down like I thought he would. Since his situation was worse than mine, I expected him to say I was acting like a brat and I needed to get over it. But he didn’t. “I feel terrible for women sometimes.” He drank his beer in silence.

  “Why?” I didn’t expect him to say that.

  “For women, if you aren’t seeing someone seriously by the time you’re twenty-two, you’re considered a freak. There’s obviously something wrong with you. If you aren’t married or at least engaged by the time you’re twenty-five then there’s something seriously wrong with you. It’s an unfair standard that shouldn’t even exist. Why can’t a woman be single if she wants to be? Why do people automatically assume she’s unhappy? I could be a forty-year-old single man and no one would question it. But if I were a woman…different story.” He finished his beer then left it on the table.

  His words caught me off guard. Troy acted like a jerk sometimes but there seemed to be so much more underneath. But ironically, it seemed like he was trying to hide it most of the time. “That’s the first time a guy has ever understood my problem.”

  “Well, Rhett and the rest of the guys would understand it too. Perhaps you forgot what we do for a living.” He played with the coaster in his hand. “I’ve seen family be brutally mean to some of the women I escort. The fact she doesn’t have a boyfriend or husband doesn’t make her a bad person. It doesn’t change her at all, actually. Its just unfair.” He shook his head at the end.

  I rested my elbows on the table. “Thanks for being understanding.”