The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(18)

“I don’t think, I know.” She seemed vehement about that.

“Why?”

“I’m not suited to it.”

“Why not? Your parents are happily married, Daisy and Mason are clearly in it for the long haul . . . you’re surrounded by nothing but happy couples. Why wouldn’t you be suited to it when it’s in your DNA?”

“Lia’s wedding fell through,” she reminded him.

“Lia deserved better than that asshole. As far as I’m concerned, that was a happy ending for her. And you know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time before she falls for some other lucky guy and winds up happily married. I always figured you were headed the same way.”

“Not with the assholes I’ve dated in the past.”

“There must have been a good guy or two in the lot,” he probed, not really wanting to hear about her previous douchebag boyfriends, but curious nonetheless.

“Nah, rotten apples, the lot of them. I seem to attract losers and freaks.”

“Freaks? How so?” Her eyes slid from his and she started to look a little cagey, sending his curiosity into overdrive. What was she hiding?

“What about you?” she hedged. “You still holding out for that happily ever after, even after what Tanya did to you?”

Ouch. Living in a small town blew big-time. It hadn’t taken long for everybody from the priest to the local grocery packer to hear all about Tanya’s threesome. In fact, he estimated it had been less than a day before the whole town heard that he had caught her cheating. The humiliation had been unbearable, but he’d kept his head down and refused to discuss it with anybody. The only reason it got out was because one of Tanya’s asshole lovers—the local mechanic—was a blabbermouth who couldn’t wait to brag that he’d stolen the local rugby hero’s girl. As if he could steal Tanya—she didn’t belong to anybody, she belonged to everybody. She’d apparently flirted and fucked her way through half of the male population in town, seniors and high school kids included. A lot of them while she’d been with Spencer.

“I’m the eternal optimist,” he said grimly, and she giggled—as he had intended—at those words delivered in that tone of voice.

“Were you in love with her?”

“No.” He hoped the curt tone in his voice would discourage further questions, but she scooched forward in her chair and rested her chin in the palms of her hands, her eyes intent.

“You were with her for three years.”

“Habit.” Even more curtly. It didn’t deter her at all.

“Yes, but . . . three years. I was expecting a wedding announcement soon.”

“It never felt completely right with her.”

“Maybe that’s why she cheated? She knew you weren’t entirely into her.”

“Way to blame the victim, Daff,” he chastised. “But maybe it never felt completely right because she was fucking everybody she could almost from the moment we started seeing one another.”

“Yikes.” She winced theatrically.

“Come on, everybody knew.”

“I didn’t . . . not while it was happening. I found out afterward, of course, but I never knew it went that far back.”

“As far as I could tell, she was never faithful to me. She said that—” The memory of her exact words made him press his lips together in an attempt to stifle the laughter rising to the surface. He wasn’t wholly successful and pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his face as the chuckles escaped in fits and starts.

Alarmed, Daff watched Spencer lower his eyes and cover his mouth. His shoulders started to shake and she gaped, horrified to discover how very raw the whole Tanya situation still was for him. Was he sobbing?

Oh God.

She cast an embarrassed look around the room, but nobody else seemed to notice his reaction, and she scooted over to the chair on his left.

“Hey, come on now, buddy. She’s not worth this,” she soothed, running a hand over one shaking shoulder. He looked up, and tears were gleaming in his eyes. His face was red and he seemed to be attempting to curb his sobs.

Wait. Were they sobs? His eyes widened at her sympathetic words, and his shoulders shook even more. She tugged at the hand he had clutched over his mouth, and when she managed to draw it down she saw that Spencer was laughing. Huge guffaws shook his body, and her concern seemed to set him off even more.

Exasperated, she flounced back to her chair and sat with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for the chuckles to subside.

Part of her was enjoying the display, though. He looked boyishly handsome when he laughed, young and ever so slightly innocent. She’d noticed it earlier when he was telling that god-awful anecdote about his manager. He had an amazing laugh, warm and carefree, and she felt privileged to hear it when she knew that few others did.

Still, it would be nice to be let in on the joke. He reached for a napkin and wiped the corners of his eyes, finally seeming get himself under some semblance of control.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still trying to keep the chuckles at bay. “It’s just . . . the look on your face made it even worse.”

“What set you off?” she asked.

“Tanya—what she said in defense of her cheating—she said trying to keep her in a committed relationship was like caging a mermaid. When she was meant to swim free and frolic with dolphins.”

Daff blinked and then pressed her lips together.

“As mermaids do,” she said with a somber nod.

“Wild and free. With the dolphins.”

“A mermaid?”

“Yep. A freaking mermaid.”

“I mean . . . she knows mermaids aren’t real, right?” He grinned at the question, stifling another chuckle.

“Who knows? Although, since mermaids don’t have sexual organs and she was fucking everything with a dick, I don’t know why she’d go there.”

“Why were you with her so long? I’ve had a few conversations with her in the past and . . . she’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Like I said before, habit. She was a warm body to come home to. She was sweet and affectionate. And I liked that she made no demands. She seemed happy enough in the relationship.”

“Were you hurt? By her infidelity?”

“I think you mean infidelities,” he corrected, a shadow crossing his expression. “I felt betrayed, obviously. And humiliated.”

The last was conceded almost reluctantly, and he looked like he immediately wished the words back. Before he could say anything more, the waiter returned with their first course and Daff was suitably distracted by the beautifully arranged sliver of yellowtail, accompanied by a swirl of lemon jus and fennel foam.

She looked up to share her delighted smile with Spencer and caught him glaring at the plate in front of him.

“Should have eaten before this,” she heard him mutter beneath his breath, and her smile widened. He was entertaining as hell. Something she hadn’t expected at all. His sense of humor was odd, but it was gratifying to know that he had one. No matter how offbeat it was. She was already borderline addicted to the sound of his laughter, and she could watch him smile all night.

He was ridiculously attractive, and she was trying her level best not to succumb to that attraction. She did stupid things when she liked a guy, and for the first time in years she found herself without a significant other. It was revelatory. She liked herself more when she wasn’t trying to impress some man. It was like unearthing a whole new Daffodil McGregor, and she found that she liked the person she was discovering beneath the layers of pretense that she hadn’t even known were there.

An attraction to Spencer Carlisle might halt that discovery process entirely.

Put it out of your head, Daff, she admonished herself severely. It’s not going to happen.

She lifted her fork and noticed that Spencer mirrored her movement. He’d done that earlier as well, with the amuse-bouche, and she clued in to the fact that he wasn’t as familiar with the place settings as she was. She found it curious that he’d chosen to come here, despite the fact that it appeared to be outside his comfort zone.

“Why did you choose this place?” she asked, and his fork halted halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, and the food’s fantastic. I was just curious. You said you’ve been meaning to try it for a while. It just isn’t the type of place I pictured you liking.”

“Why not? Because I’m a Carlisle? Because I once did whatever it took to survive and grew up in a dilapidated old house with broken windows and no heating?”

Jesus, Daff hadn’t known that his childhood was that dire. She’d heard snippets from Daisy, but to hear it from Spencer himself was . . . sad.

“No.” She finally found her voice and responded to his defensive questions. “Because you seem like a down-to-earth, meat and potatoes guy like—”

“Like who? My deadbeat alcoholic father?” He bristled, and she rolled her eyes.

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but I barely remember your father. I was going to say, like my dad. But you’re acting like a hormonal chick, so I take back that particular compliment. My dad is awesome, and you’re being less than awesome right now.”