Falling for the Ghost of You(11)

"Pretty sure it's getting worse as we speak," I say.

He laughs, displaying brilliant white even teeth, and a sudden jolt of attraction sizzles through me, sending my pulse skittering out of control.

Matt who?

I can't believe I'm here, sitting in this fancy ass restaurant, talking to this guy, who is easily the best-looking person I've ever seen—and he's my future step brother. I don't know how to act around him. Nice? Flirty? Or should I just continue making a fool of myself?

Yeah, that sounds like more fun.

Zane's dark eyes are sparkling with humor. "Come on," he says. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Oh, let's see." I stare up at the fancy glass ball lamps hanging from the ceiling. "I got dumped at Taco Bill's today; fell down, split my pants, and generally humiliated myself in front of a complete stranger; went to dinner at a snooty restaurant, found out said stranger is my future step brother; got called a stripper, hooker, and virgin by my mother...did I leave anything out?"

"Well, I don't know. The night is still young—anything could happen." The corners of his beautiful mouth twitch upwards. "It can only get better, right?"

I frown. "Don't say that, you'll jinx me. Now my mom will come back and blurt out how she and Bill had kinky bathroom sex, and I'll run away before she can go into detail, and trip over that waiting carrying that flaming dessert—he'll go crashing into the lady with way too much product in her hair, and then the whole restaurant will be on fire."

Zane just looks at me for a moment, as if unsure what to say. He probably hangs out with gorgeous super confident women all the time, and I'm like a new species of insect to him. The neurotic kind that fly into your face, and freak out when you try to swat at them.

"So, you got dumped, huh?"

I wince. Me and my big dumb mouth. "Yup."

"Hey, it happens to the best of us. Hang in there, you'll find someone new in no time."

I peer over at him. "Are you reading from a list of the ten worst clichés, ever?"

"Saved the best for last: there's plenty of fish in the sea.” Zane shrugs good-naturedly. So some asshole dumped you at a Taco Bill's. Do you really think he was the love of your life?"

A waitress sets his food in front of him. She is pretty and bold, striking up a random conversation about the weather, all the while flashing the "do me" eyes.

When she finally leaves, I raise an eyebrow at him. "Have you ever been dumped before?"

He looks up from his plate, that cute half smile on his face. "Is this a trick question?"

"I thought so." I go back to poking at my food with a fork.

"Alright," he says. "Tell me one thing you didn't like about your ex."

"He has tiny girl wrists," I say promptly. "They're so delicate, he should model, like, tennis bracelets for a jewelry store. It really bothered me. And he would make these huge spit bubbles whenever he'd get excited and talk. I used to worry the bubble would explode, and splatter me in the face. So gross."

"Wow, that's just off the top of your head, huh?"

"And he's a terrible kisser." I blurt out. "It's kind of like he's...attacking my face! Even my friend, Lauren—she saw us kissing, and she said it was the most disgusting thing ever. Like a snake eating her young. Or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the bad kisser."

Zane is staring down at his food, and it looks like he's really trying not to laugh. "Have you had any complaints before?"

I bite my lip. "No, but, I've only ever kissed Matt."

His head comes up at that, but before he can say anything, Mom and Bill show back up. She looks much more calm and composed as she takes her seat. I try not to notice that Bill is wiping lipstick off his mouth with his napkin.

"Violet," Mom begins, reaching over to grab my hand. "I am so sorry for calling you a stripper and a hooker. You know how I go on when I'm nervous." She smiles tremulously me, then turns to Zane. "Zane, I hope you can understand...sometimes I say things that are completely out there—and have absolutely nothing to do with the subject at hand. For example, Violet. She worked as a cashier at her grandmother's bakery, not as a stripper. She would never take her clothes off for money, nor would she ever—”

I clear my throat loudly to interrupt the train wreck that is her good intentions. "I accept your apology, Mom. It's in the past, and let's just let those painful memories die."

Mom opens her mouth. "But Zane..."

"No worries, Lily," he says smoothly. "I assure you, I didn't believe for a second that Violet was a stripper, or a hooker."

"Thank you," I say warmly.