Brutally Beautiful(50)

I cleared my throat trying to get my breath back. “Why don’t you come and sit with us? Have a bit of normal conversation, friend.”

His right eyebrow shot up. “I’m not normal,” he said, trying to provoke me, crossing his thick arms over his chest as if he was waiting for my rebuttal.

Leaning forward, I placed my face a few inches in front of his and whispered, “Then redefine what normal is, Kade.” Being so close to him, I noticed the slight widening of the whites of his eyes, making his grey irises more brilliant than they already were. His pupils dilated completely, leaving me staring at complete black pools of desire. I swear I saw a layer of sweat burst out across his forehead.

A chuckle fumbled unevenly past his lips, and his head tilted to one side to look at the table I had invited him to sit at. “I appreciate your invitation, but I believe that every time that Fran of yours speaks to me, he’s actively trying to annihilate every last one of my brain cells.”

He was teasing me.

“Well, considering the average intelligence level of the people, and let’s say the chairs and crumpled up napkins there, I believe you’d fit in perfectly with any conversation we could throw at you. Now, get up and stop your whining.”

His smile…his smile almost killed me. Arrow right to the heart, with a stampede of fluttering butterflies exploding from it. That man was breathtaking when he smiled. And that dimple, holy divots of smooth skin everywhere, I could have fallen right into it and lived a happy life there for the rest of my days.

Sliding himself out of his chair, he stood up tall, and stretched. I was captivated by the way his shirt stretched and clung to the muscles of his arms and back. I was well aware that I was the one that looked like the obsessed stalker then, so I stepped away and tried to rub the sight of him from my eyes.

Walking side by side, we made our way across the bar to where everyone was seated.

“Here she is, just ask her,” Bree slurred, smiling at me. “Who is the Karaoke Queen of Manhattan?” Crap. Bree was drunk. And telling everybody exactly where we were running from. Perfect.

I sat down across from her, leaving open the chair that faced the entrance to the bar for Kade to sit in. His face looked ashen, his entire demeanor screamed uncomfortable, and guilt quickly overwhelmed me. Catching his glance, I offered him an encouraging smile and he sat down and slid the seat closer to the table. The expression of everyone was astonishing to me. Dylan was giddy with happiness that his brother was there, but Fran was sneering like an ass. Bree was plainly drunk, and Natalie practically shoved her breasts in his lap.

“Bree was just telling us a little secret about you,” Fran broke the silence. “She swears that your Karaoke skills are unsurpassable.” Need I tell you that my stomach dropped for a bit, wondering what secret she could have drunkenly let loose?

“Ugh. My brother loved karaoke and he used to drag me to bars when we were younger to sing. It’s no big deal. How did you guys get on this subject,” I asked, watching Bree. Her eyes were closed and I knew she was thinking about Michael.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a brother,” Fran said, scanning his eyes back and forth from Kade to me, and back again.

“Well, he’s deceased, so I don’t usually talk about him,” I explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How did that happen?” Fran prodded.

Why do people think it’s okay to ask that question? The answers are just for their own morbid curiosity and it hurts the person whom they’re asking.

“They said it was suicide. Any other inappropriate questions you’d like to ask?” I said, offering an uncomfortable laugh.