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A towering form in a black suit blocks our path, his back to us.
After a glance around for another route and then a moment of hesitation, Mom chirps, “I’m so sorry, could we squeeze by you?”
The man turns …
And my jaw drops. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Chapter Seventeen
Garrett and I stare at each other, his face plastered with the shock I’m feeling.
“Honey, do you know this gentleman?” Mom’s eyes flitter nervously between the two of us and the few people around who heard my outburst.
Well, obviously. I bite my tongue against that snippy response as I process seeing my enemy in the last place I expected.
Garrett gives his head a small shake. “Who are you here for?”
“Joe’s my brother.” I blurt. “Who are you here for?” In his stylish black-on-black tieless ensemble, the buttons of his shirt unfastened far enough to reveal the hint of collarbone, he somehow looks both casual and elegant.
His cheeks puff with his exhale. “Sara’s my cousin.”
His cousin. As in family. “All you rich people are related,” I mutter, feeling my mom’s sharp glare boring into the side of my face. God, but this means Garrett’s going to be at the wedding too. It isn’t bad enough I have to deal with seeing Bastard Bill and Isabelle, now I have him to contend with too?
I knew I should have stayed home.
After another awkward beat, Mom thrusts her hand forward, taking over the conversation. “I’m Justine’s mother, Joan, but everyone calls me Kitty.”
He shifts his glass and collects my mother’s invitation. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kitty. I’m Garrett.”
“Garrett.” She looks to me, waiting for an explanation.
“Garrett Harrington. From HG.”
Vague awareness flickers in her expression, but she’s not connecting the dots yet.
“The developer who’s tearing down the building next to Ned’s. Well, his uncle is the developer. Garrett works for him. He just had his training wheels taken off.” It’s basically what his admission last week alluded to.
“That’s an interesting interpretation.” I catch the amused twinkle in his eye. Of course, his sour mood is gone, now that they’ve played dirty and won.
“Oh … Oh. I see.” My mother’s eyes widen. When I sent her the online link to the newspaper, she called me immediately to warn me off causing trouble for those kinds of people—the rich and powerful sort. Turns out those kinds of people are going to be related through marriage soon. “What can I say except Justine is very passionate when she finds a cause she believes in.” There’s an apology in her voice.
“Passionate.” Garrett nods slowly. “That’s one word for it.”
“He called me a terrorist.”
“Menace. Though she has been terrorizing me.”
“My apologies. A menace.” A tiny, beautiful one. A jolt of awareness skitters along my spine. He’s only ever seen me in my Polson Falls habitat, which comes with snow boots, sweaters, and offensive T-shirts. I pull my shoulders back, suddenly more thankful for the extra time and effort I put into my appearance tonight.
But what does he think of this version?
Garrett sips on his drink—bourbon? Whiskey? Something amber colored and no doubt hard—while his eyes slip down the V-neck that exposes my well-taped cleavage, and farther, to where the two slits on either side of my dress cut all the way to the tops of my thighs. Eyes sliding back up, his gaze seems to snag.
“I thought staring at a woman’s rack was beneath you?”
“Gosh, where is that drink of mine?” Mom caps that off with nervous laughter, looking around for an escape. I didn’t get my barge-into-trouble-like-a-bull demeanor from her.
“Allow me.” With the lift of one finger, a penguin suit with a tray of champagne flutes appears out of thin air. Garrett collects one and hands it to my mother, before collecting another, his gaze steady on mine as if daring me to take it.
Dean is still waiting in line for our drinks and chatting up a stunning woman with black hair and tawny-brown skin. That guy is a magnet for conversation. As attractive as he is, he’s approachable. Maybe it’s his “I’ll rescue your cat from a tree before we go test your mattress” vibe. Twenty bucks says he’s trying to find a way around his no-number pact.
“Why not?” I accept the glass, my fingertips grazing Garrett’s in the process. I can’t ignore the way my skin grows hot with the feel of his touch. But I do my best to drown it by tipping my head back and pouring the entire serving down my gullet in one shot.
“Justine,” my mother quietly admonishes.
“It’s okay. Garrett knows I have no class. Right?” I wink at him. “By the way, is Uncle Richard here? I want to make sure I say hi.” Nothing about that sounded friendly.
“I believe he’s over there.” He nods toward the other side of the room. “And I’m sure he’d love to learn about this turn of events.”
