Hunting Human - Amanda E. Alvarez [21]
Chase leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression petulant. “I’m not a kid.”
“So you’re not planning on jetting the minute I leave?”
Caleb’s quiet laughter was the only response.
“Whatever.” Chase didn’t bother to contradict him; his mutinous expression made his feelings clear.
“Relax, bro. I won’t make you go to bed by nine.”
Caleb stumbled into Braden. Before the shoving could get out of control, Braden cut in, “Cut it out. He’ll pull a stitch and I am not explaining to Mike why he has to drive all the way back out here.”
“Buzzkill.”
Braden ignored him and shrugged into his jacket. “You,” he said as he pointed at Caleb. “Keep an eye on that one.” He jerked his thumb in Chase’s direction. “Mike left an antibiotic and a painkiller. Make sure he takes them with dinner.”
Palming his wallet and his keys, Braden made for the door. “Later.”
“Nah, we’ll crash at my place. You know, just in case the mojo you’re trying to buy with that tie actually works.”
Braden slammed the door on his brothers’ laughter.
***
Beth checked her makeup in the cracked mirror above the hand-washing station in Angie’s kitchen one more time. It would have to do. She’d tried twice to create a dramatic effect with some smoky eye shadow, but what the container advertized as “smoky nights” translated to “murky swamp” under her shaky fingers. Instead, she had settled for the navy blue eyeliner Rachel introduced her to years ago and a neutral shadow.
God, I’m boring.
“Nah, natural’s a good look for you, Lizzy. Very Abercrombie.” Beth knew the voice was only in her head, just as she knew the image of Rachel, smiling at her nerves, in the reflection of the mirror was only her imagination. But for the first time, the warmth of Rachel’s memory pierced the bitter pain of her absence.
The swinging door that separated the kitchen from the café hit the wall with a bang, evaporating Rachel’s reflection. “Girl, you’re gonna knock him dead!” Marianne tore through the doorway, a pint-sized tornado of energy with a bus bin on her hip. “Turn around, turn around.” The dishes rattled against each other as she dropped the entire bin into the sink and came over to take a closer look.
Amused, Beth did a quick spin to appease her. Marianne’s enthusiasm was a welcome distraction.
“That’s a great dress. And snazzy shoes,” Marianne said, a wistful smile on her lips. “There was a time I’d dance all night in a pair of shoes like that.”
“You mean last week?” Beth tossed over her shoulder as she reached for her purse and matching wrap.
Marianne’s delighted laugh filled the kitchen. “You’re a sweet one. Now, you give me a head start. I want an uninterrupted view of his face when you make your entrance.”
“He’s here?” Beth clenched her hands to keep from rubbing her palms against her dress.
“Yup. Give me ten seconds, then come on out.” Marianne paused at the door. “And Beth? Have fun tonight, sweetie.”
Ten seconds. Ten seconds separated her from the first date she’d had in three years.
God, what am I thinking?
Chicken shit. The words crossed her thoughts, but the voice was all Rachel. Dammit. Somewhere, Rachel was utterly amused that she was the voice in her head. Beth took a deep breath and walked toward the door.
Chicken shit, my ass.
“She’s coming, honey,” Marianne said as she cruised back into the café.
“Thanks.” Restless, Braden propped his left arm on the bar and stuck his right hand in his pocket. When no one emerged, he glanced to where Marianne was still hovering.
“You sure she’s not sneaking out the…” The soft click of heels against wood heralded Beth’s arrival. His chest tightened and his breathing stalled.
She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her frame and swirled like the tide around her legs as she walked into the café wearing shoes designed to drive a man crazy—tall heels with little strappy things that tied around her ankles and extended her toned legs into impossibly long planes of silk. It required a conscious effort to drag his gaze back up, only to discover that the rest of the picture