Page 27 of Dating His Brother

“What is it?” I answered with a heavy sigh, making no mistake of my disinterest. That’s what it was right? Yes. A complete lack of interest. I was sure of it now.

“Don’t sound so excited to hear from me,” he quipped. “I was just calling to check on you. Last night’s date was a real doozy.”

“You’re watching the webisodes of this whole charade!?” I shrieked.

“That’s what they’re for, right? For regular old people like me to watch them?”

“I didn’t think you were a regular old person,” I shot back. “I thought shows like that were the same as money to you. Aren’t you too cool for all of that?”

“I want to see you again,” he insisted. “How about tonight? Dinner on my rooftop. It beats any of these expensive rip-off restaurants these jerks are parading you around at. I promise. Best spot in town.”

“I have other plans tonight,” I told him.

“Another date?”

“Dinner with friends, actually.” I sank back onto my couch, grabbing a bottle of nail polish to touch up my toes. It felt a little like being in high school all over again, bickering on the phone with a pushy guy begging to take me out.

“Hmm. Friends. I see,” he said slowly. “Tomorrow night then.”

“Goodbye, Dawson,” I sang in a careless tone before hanging up.

I hated the smile that crept across my face, knowing he was still thinking of me. It only made me that much more eager to get ready and race out the door—before I had time to admit to myself that I was still thinking of him too.

I did just that—putting on a Gucci dress with matching shoes and bag. Not that I ever slumped on my appearance, but I felt the pressure to be more perfect than ever now that Heartstring was regretfully turning me into an even bigger celebrity than I was before. At least before the campaign launched, I was only well-known among rich people and maybe the occasional follower of the Lifestyles section in the paper. Now, everyone seemed to know my name and face.

That was made even more obvious by the sounds of phone cameras that clicked as I walked into Shrub—some trendy new gourmet vegan joint in an up and coming part of town. The girls had all switched to plant-based diets for their figures, and insisted we give the place a try. For some place so concerned about not eating animals, it sure didn’t stop them from breaking the bank on luxurious leather banquettes and fur rugs.

“So, tell useverything,” Veronica gushed the moment I joined their table.

“Hello to you too,” I replied, immediately waving over the waiter to order a drink.

“Richard Hayes,” Miranda swooned in a dreamy voice. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like to date him. Much less to have him fighting other men for my affections.”

“I’ve seen him in court on TV a few times and some of his press conferences,” Kate chimed in. “He’s so arrogant and bossy. I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

“Sexy as hell,” Veronica concurred.

I thought they’d go on like that forever, but then they all stopped and turned to me with wide expectant eyes.

“He’s…really down to earth in person,” I lied.

“Down to earth!?” Miranda shrieked. “Boooring! Who wants down to earth? Not for you Isabella Landson. You only deserve the most fabulous…including your men.”

“If he’s too fabulous, I might not be his type…if you know what I mean,” I quipped.

Not wanting their fantasies about Richard Hayes or Michael Waters or any of the other rich and famous men to be destroyed, they carried on with their gossip—throwing out their theories about each man as if the person who would know best wasn’t sitting right across from them.

I didn’t mind. It was entertaining to hear what they thought, and it saved me from having to talk about it anymore. But as they went on, I felt that old familiar restlessness and boredom creeping back in. Sometimes I wondered if I needed to find new friends. Maybe that was the problem. But these women were some of the most powerful, successful, fascinating people in the whole country. What group of friends could possibly be better than that?

I didn’t join them for drinks and dancing after the restaurant, which seemed to be a habit of mine lately. My mother would have said leaving a group early in the evening was always a good thing. It only added to your mystery and allure, which people craved in a person. Maybe she was right. But it sure was a lonely way to go about things.

As I reached for the handle of my car door, I paused. Suddenly, I caught myself thinking about that chance meeting with Dawson in the park when I decided to take a walk. At least he had made things interesting. Maybe another walk would welcome some new exciting thing into my life.

But as I strolled down the crowded sidewalks, bustling with the city’s nightlife—Dawson was all I could think about. I slowed down too much, for too long apparently. That coupled with his phone call earlier had let him creep right back into my mind, like some kind of poisonous vine that took over everything.

My phone rang in my purse, and I stopped to quickly dig it out. Maybe it was him calling again. I had to admit, I kind of wanted him to try and talk me into that rooftop dinner again. Especially if he was serving something other than wheatgrass shots, legumes, and brussel sprouts.

But this time, it was Richard calling. I didn’t want to answer. Not in the way I didn’t want to answer Dawson’s calls. But in the very real way that made me get a sick sinking feeling in my stomach.

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