Page 13 of Tripped Up

Instead, it’s Wyatt, grinning at me like he’s a leopard with prey in his sights.

I think I’m supposed to be the prey in this scenario, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that he can’t prey upon me. I won’t make that mistake twice.

“Eleanor,” he sings, a bright smile stretching across his face.

“What are you doing here?” I grind out.

“Henry and I are here for dinner.” It’s only then that I notice the other tall, wide, devastatingly handsome man behind him. “He’s taking me on a tour of the city.”

“Great. Then continue your tour somewhere else.”

The waiter hovers. “Is there a problem here?”

Wyatt grins toothily at him. “Do you mind if we combine the tables? You don’t mind, do you,” he says to Anastasia, who looks confused and possibly a bit concerned.

“I mind,” I tell him.

“Great, perfect,” Wyatt continues, ignoring me. He and Henry maneuver their table until it’s joined next to ours. He slides the chair over and slips in beside me, Henry across from him.

His buddy reaches over the table to offer his hand. “Luke Henry. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ah, one of the infamous Henry brothers, then.

“Elsy. I’ve heard of you.” I keep my expression neutral. Mitch is not a fan of his. Something about a woman they both dated who cheated on them with a third guy.

Unwanted butterflies flutter low in my stomach as he aims his bright hockey smile my way, missing tooth and all. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Not exactly.”

Henry shrugs. “You win some, you lose some.” He turns to the woman beside him. “I’m Luke.”

She eyes his hand like someone might a snake. “Anastasia.”

“How do you guys know each other?” Wyatt asks, putting his arm on the back of my chair. I shove it off.

His citrus-and-cloves cologne is intense. I should be used to it by now, but when he sets his arm on my chair again and I’m treated to another wave of his intoxicating scent, it’s more difficult to push him away again. Why does he have to smell so damn good? It should be illegal.

“We’re in the symphony together,” she clips out.

Henry looks between us curiously. “Is this, like, a date? Did we interrupt your first date?”

“I’m married.” The ice in her tone could freeze Texas.

“Cool,” Henry says.

Anastasia raises her eyebrows. “Cool?”

“Yeah. Monogamy is neat. Not for me,” he adds. “But the concept in general is sweet. My brother loves being monogamous with his girl. I don’t have to want it for myself to recognize why other people might.”

Wyatt shifts in his seat. “How was your day?” he asks me.

I glare at him. “You don’t care.”

His eyes lose some of their brightness. “You’re right. I’m just making conversation.”

“My day went fine.” I reached out to a few music schools about signing on as teaching staff. So far, they’ve all said no, but I’m sure I’ll find something. “I put up some flyers in coffee shops about music lessons.”

“I can see if any of the guys have kids who want to learn,” Wyatt offers.