Page 45 of Players Like Us
She’d been about to say she didn’t feel well and would like to go home, when she glanced toward the back of the restaurant, spotted Neal, shirt sleeves rolled up, dress slacks, no necktie. He saw her a few seconds after she noticed him. His steps slowed, his gaze turned dark. Unhappy? Furious? Hard to tell from this distance, but she couldn’t look away… Couldn’t—
“Are you kidding me? What is Alexander doing here, acting like he owns the place?” Simon lifted his glass, emptied it. “That man is everywhere.”
Rachel sipped air, torn between the desire to see Neal again and the hope that he wouldn’t confront them. She should have known a man like Neal didn’t back away from anything—least of all a challenge. The old one might have, but not this one.
“Don’t look, but he’s coming our way. Be casual, just relax.”
Neal walked toward them, no smile, no lighthearted expression, nothing but stoic determination as if this was something he had to do. When he reached the table, a smile appeared, the shoulders relaxed. Both were manufactured. She didn’t miss the stance that indicated he wasn’t as comfortable as he wanted to appear. “Nice to see you both again.” His gaze slid from Rachel to Simon, narrowed. “I’m surprised.”
“Rachel called me.” Simon puffed out his chest. “Just thought you should know.”
Neal kept his gaze focused on the man seated across from him. “You don’t say?”
Simon picked up his empty glass, set it back down. “I was just as surprised. Rachel picked the place and I figured, why not? It’s got the best veal medallions in town.”
Neal glanced at Rachel, his expression unreadable, his tone bland...as though he were looking at a stranger…as though they hadn’t shared anything more than a handshake. “My guess is she can be very convincing.”
Had those blue eyes sparked or had she only imagined it? “Hello, Neal.”
A nod, a quiet “Rachel.”
“Anyway, what are you doing here?” Simon forced a laugh, took in Neal’s rolled-up sleeves and tieless shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d just come from the kitchen.”
“I did. I was tasting the Bolognese. It’s superb tonight, you should try it.”
Why had she never noticed the hard edge to this man? The control that said he was in charge? She drew in a deep breath, managed to find her words. “Thank you for the recommendation. I think I’ll try it.”
Why would he say something like that? Why would he imply he had a knowledge and familiarity of the restaurant’s kitchen, unless—
“You were in the kitchen? Tasting the food?” Simon scratched his jaw, his tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Are you friends with the owner?”
“Dominic and I are best friends.” Neal crossed his arms over his chest, adopted a casual stance and offered details she guessed few people knew. “Dominic and I are partners.”
“What? Partners? Are you saying…?” Simon sputtered, opened and closed his mouth, sputtered again.
Neal finished the question for him. “Am I saying I own part of Matilda’s?” A slow smile spread across his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sure that comes as a surprise because you and most of our acquaintances think I’m just a rich trust-fund loser with no ambition or direction. I was exactly that for a long time, but we all have to grow up at some point, don’t we?” His voice turned soft, but she didn’t miss the coldness laced through it. “I’m also part owner of a few other restaurants and businesses. They’re all doing very well, and I don’t have to live off of my trust fund anymore.” Laughter spilled from the lips she’d once tasted. “People even come to me for business advice. What do you think about that, Simon?” Another laugh, a sigh. “Almost unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“I… No, no. Absolutely not.” The man’s cheeks burst with red. “I always knew you’d do something big one day.”
There was nothing worse than trying to rewrite a story everyone knew wasn’t true. “Congratulations.” Rachel willed him to say something, anything, to let her know what he was really thinking. But, of course, he didn’t because this Neal Alexander wasn’t sharing anything.
“Thank you.”
She wanted to get away from this disaster and the man who eyed her with such coldness. Rachel placed her napkin on the table, cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” She did not look at either man as she eased out of the booth and headed to the back of the restaurant. Maybe she could plead a headache or an upset stomach. Both would be true since the past few minutes had given her a headache and a stomachache.
Rachel pushed open the bathroom door, headed to the sink where she grabbed a paper towel and ran it under cold water. How had she gotten into this horrible predicament? She pressed the wet paper towel against her forehead, sucked in calming breaths. There had been so many opportunities to see the real Neal Alexander, but she’d been too busy believing what everyone had been saying for years, that even when he revealed something else, she didn’t want to believe it. And when she did finally realize there was so much more to the man than he let on, what did she do with that? She turned him away, answered his offer of a relationship for all-in with doubt. I just need some time to work things out in my head and then… Why hadn’t she realized how much she cared? How much she loved him? Yes, loved him. The second she admitted it, she rushed to tell him, but it was too late.
Neal hadn’t deserved her doubt or her hesitancy. She should have been strong enough to open her heart and see that she wanted him in it—that he already lived deep inside. But she hadn’t because she’d been too afraid, and her rejection had been too much for him. He’d closed her off and shut her down, and now every time she saw him would be a reminder of what she’d lost and how much he would never open up to her again. He’d become a stranger, and after what happened tonight, that’s exactly where he intended to remain.
It wasn’t possible to stay in the restroom all night so ten minutes later, Rachel opened the door and prepared the speech that would convince Simon to take her home. I’ve got a horrible headache and I don’t feel well. I doubt I could eat anything right now. I’m so sorry. Could we just leave? Who cared if he didn’t believe her?
Rachel opened the bathroom door and spotted Neal three feet away, leaning against the dark wall, hands shoved in his pockets. “I thought I told you he was trouble and you should stay away from him.”
Trouble? She was staring at the real trouble—to her brain, her logic, her attitude, her heart. “A person can’t take advantage of you unless you let them.”
The brackets around his mouth deepened, the gaze narrowing to let her know he didn’t appreciate the comment. “Or you never see it coming.”
He was talking about what happened between them. “Right. There is that.”
