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“Do you think I should bid on this purse?” she asks, testing whether or not I’ve been listening to her.
I say yes without looking at it. I’m too busy narrowing my eyes as yet another woman in a clingy gown touches James’ arm and titters like a little schoolgirl. I recognize her. I’m pretty sure she’s a news reporter—yes, a local weather girl. Shouldn’t she be off chasing a storm or something?
“But the bidding is already up to $85,000,” Ellie points out.
“Oh, crazy,” I say, sounding about two percent interested.
The weathergirl inches closer and drapes her hand casually on his arm. In doing so, she manages to edge a few women out of the group, and I start to see red. Clearly James hasn’t been lacking for company since I left for Spain. If this is any indication of how he’s spent the last year and a half, I’m surprised he even still remembers my name.
“I’ve got a forecast for you: cloudy with a chance of skanks,” I mumble grumpily.
“What was that?” Ellie asks.
I turn my back to him. “Nothing.”
She smiles, clearly pleased with her role as firsthand witness to my outrage. “You should just go talk to him.”
“Oh okay, Ellie. What a good idea. Do you think I should just get in line behind the blonde? Or how about the curvy brunette that could balance a champagne glass on her ass à la Kim K?”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder and tugs me into her side. “I wasn’t kidding about what I said earlier. He still loves you. He asks me about you all the time.”
I jerk away in surprise. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs and continues down the line of auction items. “Every time our paths cross at Twin Oaks, he asks how you’re liking Spain, if you’ll be returning to the States any time soon, that sort of thing.”
This is news to me. I told Ellie I didn’t want any James updates, but this is different. This is something she should have told me!
“AND,” I stress. “What do you say?!”
She leans down and studies a diamond ring that is currently going for $74,000, staring intently like she’s actually going to bid on the thing.
“Ellie!”
She stands and waves away my obvious panic. “Oh, right. I tell him you’re loving life over there and you never want to come home.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Good. Yeah, that’s what you should tell him.”
“I even tell him about all the Spanish men you have after you.”
I reach out and grip her shoulders, spinning her around until she’s facing me. “Why would you say that?!”
Her blue eyes, a pair that match my own, are so large and vulnerable that for a second, I forget I’m supposed to be mad at her.
“Because it’s the truth,” she says defensively.
Still, she had no business telling him that. I just assumed that since she wasn’t giving me updates about James, she wasn’t giving him updates about me either. Clearly, I was wrong.
Her eyes narrow at a sight just behind me before she unravels a conspiratorial smile. “Come on, sis. I’m thirsty.”
We both have champagne, and I point that out as she drags me after her, but that doesn’t stop her from leading us to the bar where James is currently waiting in line. There are half a dozen other bars in the ballroom, two of which were in between where we stood at the silent auction and this one. To anyone watching, it’s obvious that we darted across to room to get in line behind him, but hopefully no one is studying our actions that closely. If they are, they probably also saw me pick some spinach out of my teeth using my phone’s camera five minutes ago.
James isn’t alone; Weathergirl still clings to his side like a low-pressure storm system. Lacy is probably seething with jealousy. Me, on the other hand? I’m busy coming up with more weather-based insults in my head.
“James,” Ellie says, tapping him on the shoulder and drawing his attention so he turns and finds us standing there. “So good to see you. I didn’t get the chance to say hi earlier before Lacy started ordering you around. Boy, she can be a real bear sometimes, right?”
With her tone, she makes it seem like it was a happy coincidence that we got in line behind him, but James is too smart for that. He drags his gaze from Ellie to me, and there’s an extra little spark of something that wasn’t there before. Anger? Annoyance?
“When did you return to Austin?”
Yeah, it’s anger. Definitely anger.
“A week ago.”
“And I assume it’s—”
“Temporary, yes.”
“And when do you leave?”
“In a few days.”
He nods in understanding. “Enjoy your trip.”
Then he turns and picks up his conversation with the weathergirl like I’m not even there. I’ve been dismissed.
OH OKAY. Good to see you for the first time in years too.
