"Down boy, I don't think he's gay."
"I wasn't talking about me." Dillon gave me a less than gentle push toward the bar. I almost fell right into him.
"Hello, Billie, you look beautiful tonight."
"Derek, it's great to see you," I said, embracing him. Derek was Damien's younger brother.
"I really like your hair."
I liked his too-thick, black and wavy.
"Thank you. Dillon-" I turned to find Dillon but he was nowhere in sight.
"He's over there," Derek said, pointing toward the patio where Dillon and a waiter were conversing far too intimately for it to be a casual conversation. Damn, that boy moved fast.
"I see him. So, how long are you here?"
"About a week. I'm on break."
"I'm sure Damien's happy to have you home."
"It's good to be here, but I have to admit I'm tired as hell. I thought studying for my MCATs was grueling, but it's nothing compared to playing with George, Paul and John."
"Been there myself. Those boys can wear out the most physically fit person."
"I blame your mom. She feeds them all that crazy healthy crap so they have more energy than most kids. Plus, she doesn't let them watch television."
"She's always been that way. We were all raised like that."
"Well, whatever she does, she's doing it right, because she raised some exceptional girls."
He was very complimentary tonight. There was something else in his eyes too-a glimmer of something.
"Your mom told me you broke up with Preston."
Yep, there it is.
"Is she trying to set us up?"
"Nothing so premeditated. She was just making conversation."
"I see."
"Not that I wasn't paying close attention."
"Are you flirting with me, Derek?"
"I must not be good at it if you have to ask the question."
"You're very good at it and you know it." The band started up what appeared to be a promising rendition of Tony Bennett's Body and Soul. "Let's dance."
"Sounds like a plan."
He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. He was tall and his eyes were like liquid gold.
"How's UCLA?"
"I'm interning now. I'm working for some amazing doctors. I miss Chicago, though."
"That's great, Derek. Or should I say Doctor Wolfe?"
"You would only need to call me that if you were a patient. I can't see that happening."
"Why?"
"I work in a limited field dealing with tumors and rare cancers."
"That sounds interesting."
"It is." He tightened his grip around me. He was handsome, successful and kind, so why wasn't my pulse racing? I thought about patting my chest to give it a jump start. "Billie, I'm home every few months. Would you like to go out sometime this week?"
My mom's laughter interrupted the moment. I looked over and saw the cause. Damien whispered in her rear before he nibbled on it. I turned back to Derek. Whatever short-term spell that was happening broke with that laugh.
"This is weird, isn't it?"
"You're a carbon copy of your brother, who happens to be my stepfather."
"And you look like your mother, especially when you smile. Not that your mom isn't super-hot. Shit, I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay. You're right, this is weird. I mean you're my … step uncle."
He swallowed, lifting his collar away from his neck, his hold on me loosening. "Please don't ever refer to me as ‘uncle'. I'm only a few years older than you."
"I promise to never say it again."
He kissed my forehead. "Take care of yourself, Billie. If it ever happens to stop being weird … "
"Then I'll ask you to dance again."
"And I'll accept."
I didn't even get my first drink before my sisters and Mom assaulted me with questions.
"I saw you dancing with Derek," Stevie said in a singsong voice, like we'd been kissing in a tree.
"He's gorgeous," Marley added.
"He's a good man," Mom, the voice of inward reasoning, said.
"He's all that and a bag of chips," I said, holding my glass up.
"Did he ask you out?" Stevie asked.
"Yes but we decided it would be best if we were just friends."
"Why, sweetheart?" Mom asked.
"He looks just like your husband."
Her face flickered with understanding. "That's true."
"I guess it might be a little freaky," Stevie said.
"Ya think?" I asked, with an extra dollop of fresh sarcasm.
I didn't add it, but I honestly didn't feel any pangs of anything … no racing pulse, no dry mouth, no rapid heartbeats … not that I ever did. Except for one boy-the one who strummed a guitar like a man should stroke a woman. The very one I should stay away from.
"I think I'm going to go."
"Are you sure?" Mom asked. "It's early."
"I'm tired."
"I'll give you a ride."
"No, you guys stay. I'll catch a cab."
"Don't take the bus," Mom said.
"I can give her a ride," Dillon said, swooping in from nowhere.
"I thought you were chatting up the cute waiter," I said, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Now I'm chatting up the cute blonde with a kickass hairstyle. Let's go."
We kissed our goodbyes, which took an unreasonably long time. As my family grew, so did every hello and goodbye. I didn't mind, though. Every person we picked up along the way made us whole.
As soon as the valet pulled Dillon's car up, I asked him the question I'd been dying to since he'd offered me a ride home.
"Want to go to a bar with me, Dills?"
"Now you're talking."
Chapter Seven
We strolled in just as Evan finished his original song.
Dillon paused, taking in the lyrics. "Is he singing about … ?"
"Yep."
Dillon pulled out a bar stool for me. "A subject matter I have no interest in, but the song's kind of catchy anyway."
"Sure is."
Tilla took our drink order and I introduced Dillon to her. He complimented her on the design scheme and, Dillon being Dillon, made some suggestions to organize the bar. Tilla seemed to appreciate them, and even jotted down notes.
I was thankful Dillon was having his own conversation, because I wanted to concentrate on Evan. He looked in my direction, giving me a nod and smile that would linger in my head long after it was over. His smile projected boyish mischief. A girl could get stuck in that smile. It was like quicksand.
"Here's a song I just learned. I've been waiting to play it for y'all until the right moment." He looked at me once more. "The right moment is finally here."
My breath caught as he the sounds of Extraordinary Girl by Green Day came out. Had he learned the song for me? Was I the right moment? He sang it differently, making it his own and skipping the second part entirely. It was rock ‘n' roll with a slight country twang and I loved every second.
"He sounds like sex," Dillon whispered.
"Yeah, he does."
He finished the song and made an announcement that they were taking a break. I grabbed Dillon's sleeve. "Watch this."
Just like last time, all the giggly girls followed Evan to the bar.
"He's like the Pied Piper with his rats," Dillon said.
"It was mice. The Pied Piper had mice."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes."
"Billie … are you with me?"
I realized he was waiving a hand in front of my face. "Sorry, I was just contemplating something."
"What's that, kid?"
"What it's like to be a rodent."
He looked between me and back at Evan. "I gotcha. I definitely wouldn't mind following his magic flute around." Dillon hopped off the stool, heading to the bathroom.
"I like what you've done, Price." Evan's deep, raspy voice caused the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"What I've done?"
"With your hair."
"Really?" I asked, feeling self-conscious of my new style.
"You don't?"
I bit my lower lip. "I'm getting used to it. I've always had long hair. I miss it. It was romance hair." I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself for that last bit.
Evan's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Romance hair?"
"You know what I mean."
"Have no idea."
I sighed, deepening my voice to an octave above whisper. "He threaded his hands through her long, silky strands. That's what I had. It makes me sound vain, doesn't it?"
"Nah, but I'll tell you, I like this much better."
"Anything's better than the mullet."
"This is better than the first time I saw you." He leaned closer to me. "You have a pretty face. I like to look at it. And who says a man can't thread his hands through your silky strands just because they're shorter?" He didn't quite thread, but he did tuck a wayward strand behind my ear. I struggled not to fan myself. Thankfully, Dillon came back just in time, his presence acting like the symbolic bucket of ice water I so desperately needed.