This birthday was no different. She gave me a beautiful smile, a heartfelt thank you and a hug after opening it. Even with all the things she had, the way she was spoiled and adored, she had been raised by two parents who were already ensuring that she would turn her into a remarkable young woman.
The party was, of course, extravagant. Tables were piled with beautiful food with fresh flowers everywhere. The entire place was decorated in a butterfly theme, but not the kind of plastic butterfly tablecloths or paper plates that most kid birthday parties would have.
No, this looked like what I imagined a Kardashian would do for their child’s birthday party. Everything was tastefully decorated, ornately designed, wooden and crystal butterflies scattered around the house. The party spilled outdoors, onto the patio where the theme continued. It was like some kind of garden party, but not the stuffy, pretentious kind where the kids were hushed quiet and not allowed to have fun or get dirty.
No, the kids roared around, playing various games that Gwen had set up. There was a rotation of parents watching over them, mostly just to make sure Zane and Mia’s kids didn’t try to set anything on fire or blow anything up.
This party was full of light and love and happiness. My kids had run off in two different directions as soon as we’d arrived, And I probably wouldn’t see them for the rest of the afternoon.
I could make it through this. All of the birthdays, parties and gatherings. The happiness. Surely, I’d be able to really feel the smile plastered on my face instead of just faking it. Eventually.“Fancy seeing you here.”
I had just grabbed another beer from a tray set up beside a table full of cupcakes, definitely needing it. I looked up, even though I knew the owner of the voice. I shouldn’t have recognized it after only a couple of interactions. And I sure as shit should not have had any kind of reaction to the voice. It was the alcohol. It had to be. Even though I’d only had a few beers. I hadn’t eaten lunch, though. Yes, that was it. It was the beers today, and it had been those fucking cocktails last week. I’d imagined whatever feelings I thought I’d felt. I’d convinced myself of that.
I didn’t smile at him. That would send the wrong message. To the both of us. And to everyone at this party. Most importantly, to the women with eagle eyes and romantic hearts.
“Why did you come and talk to me at the club that day?” I asked, toying with the label of my beer.
His eyes went first to my fingers then to my eyes. “You were alone, figured you might want someone to talk to.”
I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure I remember that everything about me that day communicated that I did not want or need anyone to talk to.”
He smiled. In that easy way of his.
“Ah, but you most likely didn’t want or need anyone to talk to that knew you. Anyone who had expectations, for better or for worse, of you. Sometimes it’s nice to talk to a stranger, someone who has no idea who you are so you have no pressure on who you’re meant to be.”
I blinked. He’d spoken the words in the same way he smiled. Easily. He was all alpha male, there was no doubt about that, that was all but a requirement to patch in. But most of the alpha males I knew found it hard if not annoying to speak in complete sentences. Especially to women they barely knew.
The words themselves were something else. Emotionally perceptive.
“How old are you?” I demanded, leveling him with a steady gaze.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Because I’d barely put you over thirty. And if I’m right, then you must be some kind of warlock or demon. Men in their twenties, and men with all those muscles, rarely have emotional intelligence like that. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the male race. God doesn’t give with both hands.”
“God, warlocks and demons in a sentence about emotional intelligence. Don’t think I’ve heard that before,” his brow crinkling and his tone too close to familiar and teasing for someone that was meant to be a stranger.
“You didn’t answer my question.” I made sure there was no teasing or anything familiar in my tone.
He smiled. “I’m thirty.”
Yeah. Younger than me. By ten years. That was a lot. Too much. Not that it should’ve mattered since there was no reason we were going to have any kind of relationship where his age would matter.
He was a new member in the club, trying to do good by the widow of the member he’d replaced. Trying to make a good impression on the rest of his brothers. He had a nice smile. A nice body and a presence about himself that was purely and utterly unique. He was good with kids—I knew this because I’d been watching him all afternoon—and he seemed to get along with everyone in the club.