Page 36 of Good Directions

“I think we have different definitions of that,” Jace snickers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got a date yet?”

Jace smiles. A devilish, I’ve-fucking-got-you-cornered smile. A smile that is making me want to drop-kick him into the middle of next week.

“Don’t you worry ’bout me.” I shrug off the comment like it’s nothing.

But it’s not nothing. Because he’s right. Not only do I not have a date, I don’t even begin to have a prospect for a date. At the rate I’m going, she really is going to need to sprout up from the peach grove.

“So you don’t have one?” Ewan comments.

Seriously? Baby brother is going to get in on this too? As the introvert of the family, Ewan is usually pretty quiet at family events. You have to get him one-on-one to actually get words out of him. Except, every now and again he delivers a one-liner so perfectly timed that Will Ferrell himself couldn’t have planned it better.

“I’ve got a date.”

The lie pops out of me so smoothly even I believe it for a second. Six pairs of eyes slam into me as every one of my brothers, and an all but brother-in-law, look at me like I just told them I saw Bigfoot this morning.

To be fair, seeing Bigfoot is probably more believable.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly at this end of the table,” Nash says, standing up and moving in closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I heard you say you found a date to my wedding.”

I swallow hard, the thud of my pulse rushing blood through my veins growing louder with each beat of my heart. Panic starts to set in, the whole group still staring at me. Expecting an answer. One I don’t have.

Because either I continue the lie, or I admit that I lied.

And frankly, I’m not exactly sure which is worse.

“I did. I…do,” I spit out.

Okay then. Continuing with the lie it is.

“Oh, this is gonna be good…” Milo mutters, sitting back in his chair and taking a long swig of his beer.

Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t have the energy. Or the mental capacity. Not when I’m trying to figure out what to say next. How to keep this going.

And how I’m going to get out of it.

That, however, is later Anton’s problem. Right-now Anton has to sell this thing. Big time.

“You don’t believe me?” I lean forward, as if I’m being challenged. Digging down, I try to find confidence I don’t have at the moment, hoping that the five guys at this table who know me better than anyone aren’t going to see through it.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you…” Gus starts.

“It’s just that we don’t believe you,” Jace finishes for him.

Fair. Totally fair.

“Sucks to be you. Because I do. I have a date all secured. And she’s very excited to be attending.”

“Who?” Ewan asks.

Really, Ewan? Really?

I glare down at him, seriously reconsidering his status in the hierarchy of my favorites list. On any given day I would have told you he was the favorite sibling, mostly because he doesn’t give me too much grief. Of course, of all moments to challenge that, he picks this one.

“Do we know her?” he continues to push. Fuck, you’d think he’d been taking notes from me all these years.