Tough Enough(36)

“You must be Rogan’s brother,” I say kindly, trying not to feel put off by his frown. If it weren’t for that, he’d look a lot like Rogan with his blond hair and green eyes. He even has the same strong jaw and slightly crooked nose. But where Rogan appears happy and charismatic, his brother just seems . . . cold.

“Yep. I’m the cripple,” he remarks snidely, casting an angry glare at Rogan.

“He didn’t mention that part,” I lie in an effort to diffuse the palpable tension. Well, it’s not technically a lie. Rogan didn’t say he was crippled; he said he was handicapped. Semantics, yes, but still . . . “Thank you for having me to dinner.”

“Like I had much choice.” Another fuming look thrown at Rogan.

“If I’m imposing, I can come back another time. I don’t want to put you out.”

Finally, the brother looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time and not some tool Rogan is using to infuriate him. “No, you’re fine.”

For some reason, I feel sorry for this man. I know it would kill him to know this, but I can’t seem to help it. It’s not for his handicap that I pity him, though; it’s for his anger. I know from past experience that anger and bitterness can eat you alive and steal away what life you have left if you let it. It’s best to just let go and move on whenever possible.

It’s with this sense of sorrow that I feel for him that I stick out my hand and put on my biggest smile. “Great, then. I’m Katie. It’s nice to meet you, Rogan’s brother.”

He watches me silently for several long seconds before he looks down at my outstretched hand and then back up to my face.

“Kurt. It’s nice to meet you, Katie,” he replies, a very small smile curving his lips.

I feel gratified to get civility from him. “So I hear we’re having stir-fry. Your idea or his?” I tip my head to indicate Rogan, who is standing quietly at my side, watching our interaction. When I glance over at him, I see that it’s now his brow that’s creased with a frown. I smile at him and the wrinkles deepen. What is it with these men?

“Mine,” Kurt replies, shooting Rogan a quick grin as he wheels his chair one-hundred-eighty degrees and takes off toward the kitchen, which is separated only by a raised bar in this open floor plan.

“He’s full of shit. I’m the brains in this operation.”

“No, you’re the legs. I’m perfectly capable of doing everything else,” Kurt calls from in front of the refrigerator. When he turns back around, he’s holding two covered bowls in his lap and boasting a cocky grin that’s one hundred percent Rogan. “My legs are the only things that don’t work right.”

I smile again, sliding my eyes over to my Rogan. “He’s definitely your brother.”

I don’t know what happened to make him frown back there at the door, but his wink assures me that all is right with the world again.

By order of Rogan, I am confined to a chair during dinner preparations. “How can I impress you with my extensive culinary expertise if you help?” he asks.

“You won’t have to worry about that. She’ll be too dazzled by me to give you a second thought,” Kurt says.

“You haven’t dazzled anybody since Regina Lawson in the second grade.”

“You wouldn’t know dazzling if it exploded right beside your head.”

“I’m the definition of dazzling.”

And so the banter goes until the table is set, the wine is poured and dinner is served. Time passes so pleasantly, so humorously, so effortlessly that I can’t quite remember how the conversation turned to Star Wars. I only know that the guys are hilarious as they debate who would’ve made a better Han Solo.

“I have better reflexes, which would make me the better pilot of the Millennium Falcon,” Rogan declares.

“But I’m a better kisser, and where would Han be without Leia?” Kurt argues.

“How the hell could you possibly know that you’re a better kisser?”

“Amy Steadman told me.”

“Amy Steadman? The only reason she kissed you is because you were gettin’ all girly and emotional and shit over that sophomore who broke your heart. What was her name again?”

“You’re a damn liar! Amy kissed me because she was tired of putting up with your cheatin’ ass.”

“I didn’t cheat on her. We weren’t seeing each other when all that happened. Which brings me to my next point. I’d make the best Han Solo because I’m taller. You’d get stuck being Luke.”

“You’re only taller because your legs work. I’m taller sitting down.”