“Have you thought any more about talking to Dad about this?”

I have discussed my unhappiness with my career path more times than I can count with Amalie. “I don’t think now is a good time.”

“It’ll never be a good time. You can’t spend your life doing something you hate.”

“I can’t really afford to do what I’m doing if I lose my trust or my shares in the company, though, so I can’t quit either.” Jesus. We’re such spoiled brats.

Amalie frowns. “Dad wouldn’t pull your trust or take your shares.”

“He’s threatened it before.”

“When you were screwing around in college, being a frat boy. This is different. I’m not working for the family business and I still have my trust and my shares,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re the reason the company exists in the first place. It’s different for you. Anyway, we’ll have to see how things go this summer, and if this can be more than a hobby. For now it’s a good break if nothing else.” The server delivers our appetizers, saving me from further discussion on this subject. I spear a few leaves of lettuce. Amalie has calamari and it smells fantastic. My salad smells like garlic. “Can we share?”

“Having healthy-choice remorse?”

“Not if you’re willing to let me steal a few of those.”

She pushes a few to the edge of her plate, specifically the ones that look like tiny octopi. “These ones always freak me out. You can have them.”

“So generous.” I steal her fork out of her hand and eat the ones she’s already speared.

“Hey!”

I hear an indelicate snort from my left and glance over. Rian is still alone. Maybe her date isn’t coming back. I revel in the joy of that possibility as I take another moment to appreciate her. She has a nice neck, long, slender, and her hair is pulled up away from her face, highlighting her cheekbones and the delicate line of her jaw. When I reach her face, I find her glaring at me.

Man, she looks pissed off. Maybe because I keep staring.

She slaps her napkin on the table and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape. She smooths her dress out, squares her shoulders, and takes four long strides, stopping in front of our table.

My grin widens as she gets right up in my personal space, one fist propped on her curvy hip. Her height puts her chest close to eye level—okay, I still have to look up a bit—but I’m forced to lean back in my chair to make eye contact.

“Hi again,” I offer by way of greeting.

“You!” She points a shaking finger at me.

I glance at my sister, who has set her silverware down to watch whatever is about to go down. Her smile is almost a smirk. It’s an expression we share since our mouths are the same.

Rian turns her attention to my sister and takes a deep breath, plastering on a strained, but somewhat piteous smile. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I feel it’s only right to warn you that your date is an a-hole.”

I’m not sure if she’s censored because we’re at a restaurant, but I think it’s pretty cute.

Amalie’s grin widens, showing off her perfect, white-toothed smile. Her nose crinkles, and she directs her next statement at me. “I love her already.”

Rian’s brow furrows, her confusion obvious as Amalie turns back to her.

“He really can be an asshole, but I assure you, he can also be very sweet. When he feels like it.”

“I find that hard to believe, considering he’s been messaging me all week until about two days ago asking me on a date, and he’s been eyeing all the women in this restaurant,” she says with faltering accusation. “Which is … ridiculous since you’re absolutely gorgeous. Like a Barbie doll. And I mean that as a compliment—”

“Untrue,” I cut in. I like how defensive she is of a woman she doesn’t even know, although she’s wrong about me eyeing every woman in the restaurant. I’m solely focused on her.

Her angry gaze cuts to me. “Are you serious? What the heck is wrong with you? She could be a model and your eyes are all over the place. And you’ve been asking me out relentlessly!” She snaps her fingers in my face. “You are unbelievable! I mean, I know this dress is a bit”—Rian makes flailing motions and then tries to hide some of her cleavage—“but that’s not an excuse!”

“Oh, you have every right to show those off.” Amalie nods her appreciation, which I echo silently.

I bark out a laugh. “You’re not helping here, sister.”

Rian’s head whips around, her mouth opens and then clamps shut with a click of her teeth. She blinks a few times. Her cheeks flare red. “Sister?” It’s a tiny, mortified whisper.

“Mmm. You don’t see the family resemblance.” I gesture between Amalie and me. Really, it’s only our smiles that are similar. “Rian, meet Amalie, my baby sister. Amalie, meet Rian. Her twin ruined the paint job on my Tesla and fled the scene a couple of weeks ago. I mistook Rian for her last week and said a few things that may have painted me in an assholish light.”

“Shocking,” Amalie deadpans. She extends a hand to Rian. “If it makes you feel any better, Pierce treats his car like it’s his girlfriend, since he doesn’t have a real one.”

A hint of a smile appears as Rian takes Amalie’s offered palm. “That’s outrageous. He seems like such a catch.”

Amalie’s grin grows wider and she turns to me. “I really, really love her.” Still holding Rian’s hand in hers, she asks, “Are you single?”

Rian’s eyes go wide. “I’m on a date. And I like men. A lot.”

Amalie throws her head back, laughing. “I like men too. A lot.” She lifts her ring-clad hand and wiggles her fingers, the diamond-wrapped one glinting in the sun. “I’m not asking for me.” She inclines her head in my direction in the least stealthy head nod ever.

“I already have a date.” She gestures behind her.

Amalie frowns at the empty table. “Hmm. That’s a complication. I suppose Pierce is someone to consider in the future if this current date doesn’t work out.” She releases Rian’s hand.

“Uh, right.”

“Rian?” Shit. Her date is finally back.

All three of us turn to find him standing behind her. I have a moment to better assess him. I guess he might be okay looking, in an I-work-in-a-cubicle-with-no-sun-ever kind of way. His pallor is pasty white, and he appears to be sweating. Why is she dating this guy?

“Oh, Terry! I, um … you’re back! I was just saying hello.” She motions to us, her cheeks flushing again.

He gives us a nod of acknowledgment, then his eyes roll up and he blows out a breath. “I, uh … I’m not feeling very well. I probably should’ve cancelled. I went for Mexican at lunch with some colleagues and my digestive system is sensitive—” His explanation is interrupted by a loud gurgle.

Rian takes a cautious step back. “Oh, that’s … unfortunate.”

“I’m so sorry. I was really looking forward to our date. And your dress is … wow. But with pants this light, there really is no margin for error. I should’ve worn brown or black. Even dark gray would’ve been okay since I had the enchiladas. I need to go. Now. I have to … I’ll call you?” And with that, Terry turns tail and basically sprints back the way he came, one hand over his mouth, the other on his ass.