“I’m with Emzee now.”
Emzee
Chapter 2
At first, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.
Me? And Ford?Together?
No, I must have misheard. I’d allowed my fantasies to overload my reality. I was imagining things in my drunken state. Foolishly hoping for something I’d never actually have, but wanted desperately.
Then I clocked the expression on Mrs. Malone’s face, which was truly a thing of beauty. To say that she looked shocked was a vast understatement. And I felt as stunned as she looked.
“Come on, dearest,” Ford said, his arm still tight around my waist.
“You can’t be serious,” Mrs. Ford said, her voice dropping to a hiss.
She reached out and grabbed my arm, her diamond encrusted talons digging into my skin.
“Ouch,” I said.
“Mother,” Ford warned her, his tone steely. “Let go of Emzee.”
She immediately released me, shooting eye-daggers in my direction.
“This won’t stand,” she sputtered as Ford’s relatives began to close in, seeming to intuit that something untoward was going on.
The thought of them surrounding us, all their eyes on me, made me want to curl up in a ball or throw up or both. Thankfully, Ford pulled us out of the shrinking circle of people and out of the ballroom.
It wasn’t until we were outside, with Ford’s strong arms steering me around the pool and toward the bar, that I realized I still had the same fake, frozen smile stuck to my face.
“Ummm, Ford?” I somehow managed, speaking out of the corner of my mouth. “What the hell just happened?”
He laughed, as if this was all one big joke to him.
Yup, that was Ford in a nutshell—nothing fazed him. Everything was a good ol’ time just waiting to happen.
“Just roll with it for now,” he said, still holding me close. “It’d be a real solid. Besides, did you see her face?”
I couldn’t help giggling aloud at the memory. “I wonder if it will stick like that.”
Ford threw back his head and let out that infectious laugh of his.
“Serves her right,” he said. “I hate the way she’s always trying to meddle.”
He pulled us over to the bar and ordered a Pappy Van Winkle, his favorite bourbon.
“Thanks again, Em,” he said, releasing me to take a drink. “I really owe you one.”
I deflated a little at that. I was supposed to be done doing solids for Ford, dammit. For anyone, really, but especially him.
Yet I couldn’t deny that it felt good to be laughing together and sharing a secret. It was always these moments that kept me coming back, even when he’d ditch me for Claudia or get careless about returning my calls. Or forget my birthday. Ford would always make it up to me later, layering on an extra helping of charm to smooth things over.
This, though—our banter and our shared history—was real.
So for now, I’d be the good friend. I’d roll with the punches. If doing him a favor meant pretending to be his girlfriend, well, maybe it wasn’t too much of a hardship after all.
“Come on,” Ford said, finishing his bourbon with one long swallow.
