“I’m sorry, sir, there is a private function on this evening.”
I hasten forward and put a hand on Specs’s leather-clad arm. “He’s with me.”
The valet gives me a curt nod. “Apologies, Miss Roper.”
He turns to Specs, and if he has any doubts about the big biker, he doesn’t show it. “Would you like me to park your bike for you?”
“Hell no.” Specs slides off the Harley. “No one touches my girl.”
As he says the words, his eyes dart to me, and a delicious shiver races down my spine.
The valet steps back to assist another arrival, and Specs’s gaze remains on mine. He’s trimmed his beard into a neat style, and the scent of masculine cologne reaches me. Heat pulses through my body, and my stomach does a double flip.
“I’m sorry about the valet. That was rude.”
Specs shrugs. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To cause a stir?”
He’s right. This is a fake date, I remind myself. Nothing more.
We head to the covered walkway that leads through to the terrace where the party is happening. Lanterns hang in the walkway, their soft light absorbed by the stone walls.
On the other side of the passageway is the hustle and bustle of the party. I hear the sound of glasses clinking, chatter, and high-pitched laughter.
I take a deep breath. My parents are in there with every single one of their business partners and associates. Am I really doing the right thing?
Specs stops before we get to the end of the passage and step into the light.
“Hey.” He turns to face me. “I can leave if you want me to.”
In the dim light, his face looks softer. His kind eyes peer at me, full of concern. Even if we weren’t doing this for show, Specs is exactly who I want to be by my side.
“No,” I say. “I invited you. Let’s go to the party.”
He takes my hand, and warmth shoots up my arm. “Let’s do this.”
We step out the other side of the walkway and into the party.
Soft light illuminates the paved area in front of us where guests mingle. Fairy lights run along every pathway, and torches blaze in iron torch holders.
A string quartet plays classical music, and the strains of a violin ring out across the vineyard. Beyond the paved area, the ground dips to a walled rose garden, and beyond that, the lines of grape vines fade into the darkness.
I take a deep breath as I scan the crowd, looking for my parents. People close to us stop and stare at Specs. Soon, the entire party is looking at us.
I tense. This is what I wanted, right? To make a scene. But I hate the attention on us.
Specs squeezes my hand. He doesn’t look bothered at all, and that makes me mad. He should be bothered that these snobby assholes are staring at him because he looks different from them.
Instead, he nods toward the bar in the garden. “Let’s get a drink.”
He walks casually, and the crowd parts for him, eyeing his Wild Riders MC patch as we pass.
Ladies frown at me in disapproval. I hear the words whispered: “That’s Cassie Roper. That’s Ian and Lynn’s daughter.”
There are disapproving looks from the women, but not all of them. One woman, sucking on a cigarette with thick wrinkles around her eyes, looks Specs up and down and raises an eyebrow in appreciation. She winks at me and smiles, and I smile back at her. The gesture gives me confidence, and I square my shoulders and lift my chin.
Why shouldn’t Specs be here? I was invited to the party, and he’s my plus one.
I tilt my shoulders back and hold my head high.
