In a very real way, Brendan saved me.
“He sounds like a good guy.”
“He can be.”
He’s also the antithesis of me in every way. A straight, charismatic and overconfident daredevil who’s spent more time in the air then on the ground, in a very literal sense. When he isn’t flying a plane full of people across the country or over an ocean, he’s finding new and improved ways to get himself in trouble. Women are always involved.
My mother called him precocious.
The last time I saw him I called him an asshole and kicked him out of my house along with Regrettable Robbie (which was actually the night he earned that nickname).
For weeks afterward, I told myself I was right and it was time. Brendan and I were too different. We’d both cared for my mom, but I didn’t approve of his irresponsible lifestyle and he thought I was wound too tight to have a successful relationship, sexual or otherwise.
Did you hate him for being right?
I push the question aside and focus on apologizing to Austen. “I should have known better, but by the time I got off the phone with Royal, I was nearly convinced he was perfect for you, and I disagree with matchmaking on a cellular level.”
Royal had been persuasive and sincere. And he knew enough about her and what they had in common to surprise me. Both his and Austen’s fathers are professors and bibliophiles. Both are from insanely large families—Royal is one of ten close-knit foster brothers and Austen has six siblings of her own, some of whom she sees on a daily basis. They’re both confident, well-adjusted, funny and almost too attractive for their own good, inside and out.
Like I said, I was nearly convinced.
“But since they haven’t bothered to show up,” I continue with a scowl, “and no one’s called to let me know what the hell is going on, none of those reasons matter anymore. So I’m taking the hint and retiring from the Cupid business, effective immediately. This was it. My first and last matchmaking assignment.”
Austen sits up straighter, eyes wide with surprise. “The guy’s name is Royal? You’re sure? He wouldn’t happen to be a pilot, would he? A big, muscular airline pilot with a loud laugh and a brother who married a guy he met in this very pub? That’s who wanted to meet me?”
I send her a sheepish grin. “Small world, right? That’s why we’re here, for the record. He said it had to be here, since this is where he saw you for the first time.”
Which, for Royal, sounded pretty damned romantic to me.
“Wow.” She exhaled slowly, expression vaguely stunned. “Small world is right. Exactly how is the Rock-lookalike your friend? How did you meet him? He lives in New York, doesn’t he?”
Wait, how does she know that? “He does, but he and Brendan work for the same airline. They’ve been buddies for years.” I’m distracted by the strange look on her face. “Austen, are you blushing?”
“I never blush.”
Until now, apparently.
Holy shit.
“Do you actually like Royal? Before you answer, remember that saying yes would really make me feel better about myself after dragging you out tonight under false pretenses.”
She presses the back of her hand to her cheek. “I saw him at one engagement party, so don’t know him well enough to like him. To make you feel better, I’ll admit I find him moderately attractive. And they weren’t false pretenses. You’ve agreed to another friend date, and offered free massages at my first public meet up of the GPP next week. With your magic hands, I’ll be in high demand in no time.”
I don’t remember agreeing to that, but I haven’t been paying attention and she’s willing to forgive me, so I’ll take her word for it. “Are you sure you don’t want to change the name while you still have time? ‘Guinea Pig Party’ was funny when it was just your family, but for the public it might be too…experimental. You’re products are some of the best around, but most people aren’t willing to volunteer their face to science.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, which tells me I’m not the first person to point that out. “I’ll think about it. So now that we’ve settled our business and we both know why we’re really here, why don’t you call your Brendan and see what’s taking them so long?”
My Brendan.
I drop my gaze to the table to hide my reaction. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You think they ditched us, don’t you?” She sounds affronted, though I’m not sure if it’s on my behalf or hers. I don’t imagine anyone has ever ditched Austen Wayne before. “I thought these guys were your friends.”
“They are.” Note, I never said they’re reliable. Or that they’re not easily distracted by shiny objects, like flight attendants. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. “Maybe there was a layover some—”