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“But now they’re thinking of pulling out?”
Cam sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound. “Yep. Thank you, Laney.”
Cold threads wove between my ribs, twining jealousy and irritation throughout. “Laney Delacroix? Your ex-girlfriend?”
He grimaced. “I don’t know if I’d call her that.”
Confused, I took my glass in hand, focusing on the golden liquid. “Your current girlfriend, then?”
A laugh burst from him, some strange combination of delight and bitterness. “Definitely not.”
“Then—”
“My father approved of her,” he said shortly.
“Ah.” I tried to hide my surprise behind a sip of bourbon.
“But it got to a point that even his approval wasn’t enough to overlook her…less favorable qualities.”
The tiny giggle that emerged from my mouth was wildly undiplomatic, but I couldn’t stop it. “You’re so tactful. When I talk about my ex, it’s just a bunch of expletives and insults that devolve into steam coming out of my ears.”
His eyes sparkled when he looked at me again, his crooked smile doing peculiar things to my pulse. “That bad, huh?”
“He stole my favorite scarf and gave it to his next girlfriend. That’s satanic.”
His smile only grew. “Diabolical.” He gestured to the bartender for another round and leaned closer to me. “You know, I hear there’s a special circle in hell for scarf-stealers.”
“You think you’re teasing me, but I’ll sleep soundly tonight, imagining him in said circle.”
“Shay Honeycutt, the grudge-holder. Who knew?”
His voice. My name. Beneath me, the floor dropped. “What have I told you about my first name, Shepherd?”
“That I’m forbidden to use it unless I admit you were right that comic sans is never appropriate in PowerPoints,” he said with a reminiscent chuckle.
“Ah, so you do remember. Do you admit it?”
“I admit nothing, and I’m not suffering through that argument again.”
“Because you know I’m right,” I muttered.
“Your inexhaustible need to be right is—”
“Exhausting?” I gave him a cheeky smile.
His fond expression belied the vexed shake of his head, almost as if he was more exasperated that he liked my flaws than by the flaws themselves. The idea of that nestled deep inside me, nudging me closer to him.
Emboldened by alcohol, I leaned into him in a way I never had. “So I guess the ultimate question is… Do you really need Gray-Freeman? Are you ready to take over?”
“It doesn’t matter if I am or not. What matters is that he doesn’t think I am. What Shep says goes. That’s how it’s always been.”
“That’s obnoxious.”
“Yes, well.” He straightened to his full height. “I did say he has his faults.”
Jessie set before me another glass of scrumptious golden liquid. If I drank it, I’d certainly be drunk, but it seemed rude not to. I settled for wetting my lips with it and nothing more. Cam downed half of his in one gulp.
Okay, then.
