When Daisy beckoned her toward them, Lia sighed and reluctantly walked over to their table.
“Hey, wanna join us?” Daisy asked, and Lia, diligently avoiding Brand’s eyes, shook her head, hoping she looked reluctant enough.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I have a date.” She sneaked a glance at Brand and was surprised to see his brow lower at her words.
“You can both join us,” Brand suggested, and this time she met his eyes directly, trying to prevent her sister and brother-in-law from seeing the daggers she was throwing at him.
“I don’t think so.”
“A date? Who is he? Anyone I know?” Daisy asked eagerly.
“I don’t think so. His name’s Michael Kendrick.”
“Mikey? I know him, we were in the same grade.” Which meant that he was about twenty-eight, four years younger than Lia. Not a deal breaker or anything, just disconcerting. Most guys in their thirties were married already anyway, so it was actually surprising that this was the first younger man she’d encountered since she had started dating again.
“Doing a bit of cradle snatching, are you, Lia?” Brand’s voice was as smooth as silk, and Lia tried very hard not to react to his comment.
“Younger men have so much more stamina, though, don’t they?”
Gah! Had she really just said that? She didn’t make insinuations about sex in public, or in private, for that matter, no matter how mild. Daisy looked startled by her comment, Mason was grinning, and Brand looked angry. She didn’t think she had ever seen him angry before. Charming, in pain, turned on, tired, and grumpy, but never truly angry.
He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something scathing, when a deep voice, coming from behind Daff, interrupted him.
“Dahlia?” Lia spun around and then smiled as she looked up at the tall, very handsome man standing behind her. He had dark hair, a well-maintained beard, and deep-set brown eyes. “I’m Michael. Nice to meet you.”
“How did you know it was me?” Lia asked in confusion, still a bit awed by his height and good looks. Blind dates were supposed to be disappointing, but Michael Kendrick exceeded expectations by a mile. She heard Brand make an irritable sound and ignored him.
“You said you’d be wearing a pink cardigan,” he said with a kind smile. “Although I’d say it’s more fuchsia, don’t you agree? It’s a very pretty cardigan—did you make it yourself?”
Lia looked down at her bright cardigan and blushed.
“Yes, I did. I knit . . . as a hobby. I like to make pretty things. I put a lot of them away, as gifts, or, you know, for the future and . . .” She was babbling. She cleared her throat, her voice tapering off, and took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Brand’s. He was watching her intently, so she shifted her gaze back to Michael’s patient stare.
“Hi, Daisy, long time no see,” Michael said, smiling at her sister and bending down to drop a kiss on her cheek. Oddly enough, Mason, who was usually absurdly possessive over Daisy, remained completely relaxed through the interaction.
“Hello, Mikey. Nice to see you again. This is my husband, Mason, and his friend Sam.” The two men stood up to shake hands with Michael.
“We should find our own table, Michael,” Lia said, and he grinned, looking quite roguish.
“We should . . . although maybe we could join this table? Unless you all are expecting more people?”
Daisy looked hesitant, her eyes widening as she looked at Lia, who was frantically shaking her head behind Michael’s back.
“Not at all,” Brand said pleasantly. “More than enough space for you two at our table.”
Sam kept his eyes on Lia’s miserable face as she and her date joined their table. He shouldn’t have intervened—he should have let them go off to their own table. But he was trying to protect her. Initially, after learning about her date, he’d felt an irrational spurt of possessiveness at the thought of Lia out with some undeserving bloke. Worse, what if she liked the guy? What if there was a second date and a third? What if it became a thing? Sam didn’t like that idea, because it would completely eliminate the possibility of any renewal of future intimate interactions between Lia and him.
Then this Kendrick guy showed up and he was tall, dark, and handsome. A slightly younger stud. He could tell from Lia’s reaction that the guy had made a strong first impression, and all Sam had wanted to do was sabotage the whole fucking evening.
But then Kendrick had opened his mouth and called Lia’s pink cardigan fuchsia. What the fuck was a fuchsia? At first Sam wasn’t sure if the guy was referring to the wool or the design until it had clicked that he meant the color. And then the guy had turned to the table, his eyes had gone over Mason, checking him out quite thoroughly, before his gaze had fallen on Sam and lingered. Sam knew that look—he had perfected that look. The surreptitious and appreciative once-over.