Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3)(11)

Okay, so Alex was at this fancy dinner for the crab cakes and her sister.

She was even in a dress, although it was black with a bright-red cherry print. She’d spent a good twenty minutes going through her lipstick stash to find the perfect shade to match. Her eye makeup was on point, dramatic winged eyeliner and smoky eye shadow.

Hey, if she was asked to dress up, she was going to do it her way.

Didn’t stop her from wearing lace-up boots, though. Because heels were the devil.

She took a sip of her wine and watched Violet carefully pick up the correct utensil to eat her fancy salad. Alex thought it looked like rabbit food, but clearly she wasn’t the clientele for a place like this. Ivy loved it and that was all that mattered.

Her sister looked radiant, wearing a purple dress, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her happiness was a tangible thing, floating in the air like a feather. Alex wanted to snatch it and tuck it behind her ear, save a little for herself.

She stared at her nails, which were painted dark blue, the polish chipping. She picked at a thumbnail, trying not to let her mind wander and think about Spencer.

His nickname for her had made her give up the clear soda for life. She wondered if he thought about her at all, if he regretted their time.

If he still had that keychain.

That had been dumb, to give it to him. No way would he keep something like that while he was cruising around New York, saying hello to his doorman and sitting in his fancy office.

Buying necklaces for women that weren’t her. She shouldn’t be bothered by that, because she’d agreed to the one-night rule. Hell, she’d wanted it. So what right did she have to be angry he slept with her the night before and bought a necklace for another woman the next day?

She didn’t have any rights to his life. She wasn’t willing to give him any rights to hers.

She shook her head as the waiter placed their plates in front of them. Alex dug into her crab cake right away, while Ivy tutted over the gorgeous “presentation” of her dish.

As they ate, Ivy was moaning about the tenderness of her fillet while Violet was talking about a boy at school.

Brent was—predictably—frowning at the idea of a boy paying attention to Violet.

“He told me my hair is the color of poop,” Violet said. “It was really mean.”

“That kid is a, a—”

Ivy looked up at Brent sharply with big eyes.

“Is an . . . awkward boy,” Brent said, cringing.

Alex hid her smile behind her napkin.

Brent’s glare told her she hadn’t hid her giggle well. “Anyway,” he said, focusing back on Violet, who was listening intently. “Your hair is beautiful. So’s your mom’s and so’s your aunt’s.” He grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Mine is great too, right?”

Violet nodded.

“You like your hair?”

“I love my hair,” Violet said, twirling a strand.

“Then don’t let a boy make you feel differently about it,” he said. “And if he bugs you too much, tell a teacher.”

“Okay,” Violet said.

Alex wasn’t grinning anymore. How she wished she’d had someone like Brent when she was a little girl. Then maybe she wouldn’t have let Robby change how she viewed herself. Maybe she would have been strong enough . . .

She took another sip of wine, and excused herself to head to the bathroom. Despite eating most of her crab cake, she probably shouldn’t have had so much wine beforehand. She was a little unsteady and even more grateful she hadn’t worn heels.

In the bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror, fixing her lipstick and wiping a smudge of eyeliner below her eye. Her hair was down, which was rare for her, and a little huge. It had rained earlier and the humidity had wreaked havoc on her mane, so it cascaded all around her like she was in a bad ’90s sitcom.

She huffed and did her best to tame it down before she walked out of the bathroom.

She weaved her way through the tables and was close to reaching her family when a feminine laugh caught her attention.

It wasn’t the owner of the laugh who stopped Alex in her tracks. It was whom the woman sat with. Alex remembered that suit jacket. Those shoulders. That hair that was a little on the longer side now, curling around his ears and brushing the collar of his shirt.

She couldn’t understand what he said, but she’d remember that deep rumble anywhere. His head was turned slightly, so she could see his profile.

Spencer.

Leslie Michael Fucking Spencer was back in town.

And he was sitting with a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a New York socialite magazine. Large earrings dangled from her ears and she wore a necklace that sparkled in the candlelight on the table. Her dress was a deep purple color, something classy, and her makeup was understated yet clearly done with care.

She was everything Alex wasn’t.

And Alex was okay with that, dammit. She’d always been okay with that until fucking Robby had made her feel like that wasn’t enough, like that would never be enough, until she didn’t know what was right anymore.

All she knew was that the man she couldn’t get out of her head was sitting with a gorgeous woman, and they were smiling at each other and drinking wine. This was the woman he belonged with. That he’d marry.

Alex had known all along, of course, that she wasn’t anything special to him. What they had was simply a hookup, but to see Spencer’s future with her own eyes wasn’t a good feeling. She thought she’d never see him again, and maybe it was a little irrational, and maybe they hadn’t made promises, but she was a little angry with him for violating this unspoken pact.

Something rolled in Alex’s gut and she placed a hand over her mouth. Oh God, the last thing she needed was to throw up in the dining room of Bellini’s.

So she put her head down and walked briskly to her table, hoping Spencer didn’t see her.

When she sat down, she gulped the rest of her wine as Ivy stared at her. “You okay?”

Alex set her glass down harder than she meant to. The centerpiece rattled. “Uh, yup.”

Ivy frowned. “You sure?”

“Never been better.”

Ivy opened her mouth to say more, but Brent—God bless the irritating bastard—began talking about the Halloween costumes he planned for this year, and Alex thanked him silently for the reprieve.

She pretended to listen while her brain could do nothing but focus back on that table. Spencer was here. He was back. In Tory.

The questions rattled around and around—questions she didn’t think she’d ever get answers for, because she intended to do everything she could to keep from running into Spencer again. He must have lied too. He had a woman. She was there, right across from him, with her perfect hair and white smile and class.

She ate dessert methodically, not really tasting it, while Ivy gave her odd looks in between bites of her crème brûlée.

Brent paid the check and everything was going swimmingly as they stood up from their table until Brent scanned the restaurant.

His eyes lit up.

And Alex knew at that moment she was a little doomed.

“Hey, it’s the English guy!” he said. “Babe, hold on, I wanna say hi.” He bent down. “Vi, you wanna meet someone from Britain?”

Violet nodded enthusiastically as Alex looked at her sister in horror.

Ivy pulled on Brent’s arm. “Honey, he’s having dinner, maybe we shouldn’t interrupt—”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He grabbed Violet’s hand and began walking toward Spencer’s table.

Alex didn’t move, just stayed where she was standing, because how the hell would this end well?

Brent arrived at their table, and Spencer’s dining companion looked up at Brent, smiling radiantly, and then Ivy was all possessive girlfriend, stalking haughtily over to the table and slipping her arm in the crook of Brent’s elbow.

Alex rolled her eyes and followed slowly, fingering the hem of her skirt and watching the table from under her lashes.

Spencer looked up at Brent and Ivy, his face going momentarily pale before he craned his neck around them, looking for . . . And then his gaze met hers.

He’d been looking for her.

His expression didn’t change as she arrived at the table and stood behind Violet. His gaze didn’t leave her face, though, until Brent drew his attention.

“Good to see you, man. You back in town for work?”

Spencer’s gaze flitted from Brent to Alex before settling back on Brent. “Um, yes. I am actually.”

“What do you do?”

“Royalty Suites.”

“The hotel chain?”

“Yes, and we’re looking here in Tory for locations to build one.”

“Huh.” Brent scratched his head. “Would create more jobs in the area, so that’s good. We can support another hotel?”

Spencer smiled and nodded. “Yes, it’s why we’re here. You aren’t far from the airport and your highway is a main thoroughfare for business travelers.”

“Cool.” Brent nodded, but his interest seemed to have waned. “So, how’s the car?”

“It’s running fine, thank you.”

“Great, great. Well, hey, this is my girlfriend, Ivy, and our daughter, Violet. And you met Alex, right? She works at the shop too.”

Spencer swallowed and shifted in his seat. “Yes, we’ve met. I actually met your girlfriend too, at Delilah’s.”