Sway With Me(17)
“It’s a mutual business relationship.” Her peace-loving hippy of a sister glowered at him with evil intent in her eyes. He’d better make sure he didn’t leave his drink unattended or Viola was likely to spike it with something which would get his system ‘running.’
Braden just smiled at Viola. “If you say so.”
Portia was about to jump in and break up the fight, when a man resembling Ryan sauntered up to Braden and smacked him on the back. “I need to get out of here if I’m going to get to the house before cur—” His gaze settled on her and widened. “Portia?”
Guess that was why he resembled Ryan—it was Ryan. As hot as she thought Braden was, when the two stood side-by-side, there was no contest in her eyes. Her girly parts suddenly woke up and started begging for attention. “What are you doing here?”
“Having dinner,” he responded sarcastically, eliciting an eye roll from her and a chuckle from her sister.
Braden smirked, seeming highly amused by the coincidence. “You’re that Portia? This keeps getting better and better.” He slung an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Ryan and I have been buds since elementary school. In fact, he’s moving out of my place to live with you.”
“We’re not living together,” Portia and Ryan simultaneously chimed.
“You two practically sound married already,” her sister commented, eyeing Ryan as though he were the last piece of chocolate in a sugar-free world.
Ryan returned the smile. “And you must be Viola.”
He sounded exactly like Braden had when he’d introduced himself to Portia—only smarmier. Something sour and hot twinged in her chest and she lightly rubbed the spot. The fish must have given her heartburn.
What did she care if he hit on her sister? It wasn’t as though she wanted anything to happen between them.
“Lola,” her sister corrected. “Only my sister and Reina call me Viola. Please sit down.” She motioned for the men to join them.
Braden slid into the booth next to Viola leaving Ryan no choice but to sit next to Portia. She hated feeling like a consolation prize. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that everyone preferred her bubbly personality and pink hair to Portia’s predictability.
“Anything I should know about your sister before we move in together?” Ryan asked.
His knee brushed against hers and she glanced down at his hands which drummed against the plastic cushion of the booth, making her aware of how close they sat. His presence unnerved her, woke her up better than a Grande cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, and at the same time gave her a sense of tranquility, as if nothing could go wrong in his presence.
Viola pretended to consider the question, her fingers pressed against her lips. “She hogs the blankets. Oh, and she talks in her sleep.”
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I do not! Besides, we’re not going to be sharing a bed. Ryan and I already discussed the matter. For the next three months, we’ll work together fixing up the house, but otherwise, we’ll lead completely separate lives.” She turned to Ryan for confirmation, but he threw up his hands and shook his head, refusing to back her up.
“If you say so,” Viola said in a singsong voice.
“Ryan has a life?” Braden quipped.
She laughed as Ryan grunted a “thanks man” at his friend.
Viola ignored Braden and jumped in to add her two cents. “No offense, sister-mine, but you don’t even have a car. How are you going to get around? It’s not like New York where you can hop on the subway or hail a cab. And as much as I love you, I can’t chauffeur you around every day.”
“I’ve got a couple extra. I’d be happy to lend you one until you can make other arrangements.” Braden reached over the table, picking something white and fuzzy off of Viola’s Violent Femmes T-shirt.
“No, my sister doesn’t want your—” Viola said, swatting at Braden’s hand.
“That would be great,” Portia interrupted cheerfully. “I can pay you. Not much, but a little—”
“Nonsense. I can only drive one car at a time. Would you prefer a Lexus or a Jeep? You seem more like a luxury type of girl, so I’d guess Lexus.”
Her? A luxury type of girl? She’d lived in a Brooklyn apartment the size of a closet and shared it with two other girls. Tonight’s dinner was the first she’d eaten in a restaurant in more than a year. Yes, she’d occasionally attended a formal reception for the patrons of the theater, but she’d rented those dresses, and her accessories were all bought secondhand. Growing up with a mom who’d dressed them in medieval dresses, kilts, and lederhosen, she’d learned to appreciate plain old T-shirts and jeans. And cars? She’d never owned one. Any car was a luxury in her world.