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“Who’s that Dusty guy anyway?”
My belly flips. My mother went to great lengths to take that secret with her to the grave, but it’s also my truth. I never denied who I was, and I won’t start now. “He’s actually my dad.”
Troy’s eyes widen. “That mangy-lookin’ dude is your father?”
I scowl. “He’s not mangy. He works on cars all day out in the heat.”
He crinkles his nose. “I would have thought your mother had a little more class.”
I lean away. “You take that back, Troy McNamara, or else tell your man to turn the car around and take me right back home.”
He blanches. “You’re right. That was crass. I’m sorry.”
“Good. You should be.”
His hand covers my fist. “Can we just pretend I never said it?”
In the interest of our night together, I nod despite the fact that the damage is done.
A velvet carpet graces the entrance of Red Drum Country Club. We saunter in like royalty, Troy’s hand securely fastened at the small of my back as if asserting ownership over territory that isn’t his to claim. It’s okay. I can play to his crowd. I will be his for one enchanted evening, then we’ll go our separate ways.
Bodies grind on the dance floor, moving and swaying to the beat of the music pumping overhead. It isn’t long before we’re settled in a group. Troy’s friends and their dates take up a single table with two seats reserved. “That is a wild dress,” Robbie says as Troy pulls out my chair. “You’re like a forest fairy.”
I’m sure it wasn’t meant as a compliment, but I smile anyway. “Thanks. I made it.”
Troy laughs. “Sure.”
My cheeks grow hot. “No, I did. Well, I upcycled it anyway.”
He clips his brows. “I would have just given you money to buy one.”
“I don’t need your money, nor do I want it.”
A round ofoohswaves around the table. Troy plasters on a wide grin. “Ellie deems herself some kind of fashion designer.” He rubs my shoulders, smothering the burn. “I’m gonna get us some punch.”
“I like it,” Robbie’s date—a girl dressed in tit-to-toe glitter—adds. I appreciate her attempt to lighten the mood, but I’ve already made the conscious effort to ignore Troy’s reprehensible commentary. He doesn’t mean to be offensive. He was bred into his way of thinking by similar-minded individuals.
Most of us go through life wearing blinders, knowing only that small station to which we were born. Up until recently, I was no exception. I sat atop my throne looking down on allthose I deemed beneath me. But I was given a gift. The Wilders bestowed upon me the rare privilege of escaping my bonds, if only for a short time. Having seen how the other half lives, I can’t go back to my old ways. I’ve seen the world from an entirely new perspective, making me a better person.
A plastic cup comes down before me. Troy takes a seat and drops another kiss on my temple. I suppose he considered our last interaction and thought better of it after all. His gaze scans the room. Appeased with what he sees—or doesn’t see—he reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a flask. He fills the remainder of his cup and stirs it with his finger. “You want?” he asks.
“Maybe later,” I say.
“Well, fuckin’ fill me up,” Robbie crows, pushing his half-empty cup of punch across the table.
Sweat begins to collect under my arms. Sober Troy is a sweet-and-sour combo I could totally handle, but Drunken Party Troy is an insufferable ass I want to beat with my shoe. He gets handsy when he’s drinking, and I don’t like it.
“It’s gonna be a long night. Let’s take it easy, okay?”
He snorts. “Who are you, my mother?”
Robbie raises his hand in a high five, and Troy meets him halfway. “Don’t worry, lil lady, I’ll make sure he makes it to the after-party.”
I lift a brow. “After-party?”
Troy gulps down his drink in a single sip. “Just a few friends at the house. No biggie.”
“So we’re going back to your house after this? Will your driver still be available to bring me home later?”
