I think you should meet.”
“Now? Are you serious?” she asked, as he started pulling her toward the sidewalk.
“Come on, Nat, don’t look so worried. You can trust me, I swear.”
“As fucking if,” she grumbled under her breath, though he was still able to catch the words.
Keeping a firm grip on her soft, slender hand, Sean tugged her along behind him, then through the front door of Peyton’s . A bell chimed, signaling their arrival, and Peyton’s smiling face peeked around the open doorway to the back storeroom. “Sean!” she said with surprise, shooting him a wide grin. “Give me just a sec.”
Natalie had started trying to yank her hand from his the moment she’d seen the pretty sign that hung over the front door. Then she’d completely frozen when Peyton had come into view. Now, as she stood beside him, he could all but feel her seething with fury. The kind that had made her go bright red in the face, her gray eyes glittering with emotion.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hissed, finally managing to yank her hand from his grip. She nearly stumbled into one of the racks of designer dresses from the force of the movement, and he was trying to reach out to help her when Peyton came hurrying into the room.
“Ohmygod, are you okay?” she asked in a rush, giving Natalie a worried look when she nearly bent herself in half to avoid him getting a grip on her.
“I’m fine,” she gritted through her teeth, cutting him a deadly glare as she straightened and put another foot of space between them.
Figuring he better hurry up and get this done before she ended up running out the door, he said, “Peyton, meet Natalie Richards. She works as a bartender at Manolo’s. And she hates my guts because she thinks we’re a couple and that I’ve been screwing around behind your back.”
Peyton’s green eyes went wide, and then she burst out laughing. “You actually thought I was dating this doofus?”
Natalie froze again in an instant, her dark eyes so big she looked like someone had just dumped ice down her pants. “Uhh…”
“Doofus?” Sean muttered with a snort. “Nice, Pey. What are you, two?”
“Shut up, you butt-munch. And only Mom gets to call me Pey.”
“Butt-munch? Jesus, Pey—”
“Hold that thought,” she said, cutting him off when the phone beside the cash register started ringing. She shot Natalie an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to answer that, but I’ll be right back. Please don’t leave without giving me a chance to talk to you.” Then she hurried over to the phone and answered it.
To his left, Natalie drew in another deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled as she turned her head to look at him. There was a crease between her graceful brows, the gray of her eyes clouded with confusion. “She’s your sister?”
“Half-sister. We have the same mother, but different dads. I never got to spend much time with her, living up in San Francisco. That’s why all the dinners at Manolo’s. She’s trying to start a tradition, making sure we get to know each other better. Paul’s actually meant to join us, but he keeps making excuses.”
“Okay.” She wet her lips, then spoke at a careful, deliberate pace. “You could have just told me. You could have just explained that I had the wrong idea and needed to mind my own damn business. Doing it this way—it wasn’t very nice.”
He shot her a shuttered look. “Yeah, well, neither are you most of the time,” he argued quietly.
“You really do think I’m a bitch, don’t you?” she murmured, crossing her arms over her middle, almost like she was trying to protect herself from his answer.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave her an honest response. “I think you’re cynical. And I also think there’s a reason…a story that explains why.”
She scoffed and shook her head, her shadowed gaze sliding away. “Of course there’s a story. But don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the gruesome