I smirked. “I’d say you guys might have overachieved a little on that mark. But it’s sweet of you to care so much about her.”

“We all do,” he said. “She was just a kid when mom passed.”

“So were you,” I said softly.

His eyebrows twitched together and he seemed to shake off the truth of what I’d said. “I’m the oldest. Looking out for the rest of them helped distract me, I guess.”

I thought of how good he seemed to be at reading people–how much he tried to take care of them. It made a little more sense. He’d been doing it ever since he was young, after all. “But who looks out for you?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever emotion was starting to claw up from his insides. His easy smile was back, along with his carefree confidence. “I’ve done fine for myself. I can handle it. I always have.”

I smiled, but I felt something in my chest go out for him. Dean had spent his whole life worrying about other people. I wondered if his relationships all failed because he wasn’t willing to let anybody take care of him, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask about that–even if the wine was definitely getting to my head. But I definitely couldn’t stop from thinking that if he was ever mine, I’d want to give him a taste of what it felt like to be taken care of for a change. I would want to show him how he made other people feel.

“So, why do your brothers want to set you up so badly?” I asked after our food had been set down. Mine was just as Dean had described, and absolutely delicious. I’d saved a little bit of the bread to dip in my sauce, and I was glad I had. The combination was almost better than an orgasm.

“Because they don’t know how to mind their own business, I guess. What about you? Why are your parents so keen to see you hitched?”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of them. “Because they’re the picture-perfect couple. My mom was a dancer on a cruise ship and my dad was a cook. They met on a ship in the Florida Keys and had a storybook romance. They make each other complete, and I think they can’t imagine anybody existing alone. They think everybody has a story like that waiting for them, and they’re worried I’m not going to find mine. Something like that,” I said.

“Do you believe that?”

“I used to.”

The candlelight was reflecting in Dean’s eyes, and when he smiled, I felt like I was melting as easily as the wax between us. “I suppose the two of us need to convince everybody we believe it, don’t we?”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“The only thing I believe is that I don’t know shit about relationships. If reality wants to step in and show me I’ve been wrong, I’ll give it an ear.”