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Willa follows but no one gives her the time of day.
There’s something on Lawson’s mind. His knee bounces next to me at the table and his twin takes one look at him, rolls his eyes, and then grins and turns back to the big screen.
And I’ve got a real good idea what it is.
Lawson glances at me then leans in. “You got the invite, right? From Sarah?”
Something goes cold in my veins. “Yeah, I did.”
It’s a fucking lie because I don’t know what he’s talking about.
He nods, not really paying me that much attention so he misses that fact. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box.
“Lawson, you shouldn’t have. You know I’m not the marrying kind.”
His narrow-eyed look is more than enough to make me grin as I take it from him. I open it and whistle low.
The ring is beautiful, simple, elegant, and functional. It’s no idle rich woman’s rock. This is a sweet diamond in a plain setting that shows off the piece. And it’s a ring Dakota can wear while getting her hands dirty and not having to worry. She’s going to love it.
“Do you think I should have gotten bigger? Fancier? It’s one diamond and—”
“It fits your girl, Lawson. Down to the ground. Elegant and beautiful, and just the right size for her.”
“So, you’ll be there? At the surprise engagement?”
Fuck. “Try and stop me.” I finish my drink and stand. “I need to take care of some things.”
And then I’m out the door.
I don’t care if Sarah King doesn’t like me or pretends she’s not attracted to me. I don’t give a damn about the bug up her ass. I care that she deliberately set out to not invite me to my best friend’s engagement.
The two of us are about to have words.
I park right in front of the resort and climb out, taking in the lights glowing yellow and warm in the cool night air. The door’s open and laugher tumbles down.
Male laughter. Smokey laughter.
Heat grips me as I take the short set of steps fast and I storm in. Dakota is sitting on the sofa with a pile of papers and not paying attention to anything else. I turn in the opposite direction and stalk in the direction of the sounds of laughter, finding myself in the big, gleaming stainless-steel kitchen.
That damn chef with the tattoos and girly hair is there, holding something up to Sarah’s mouth.
He stops and stares at me, and I’m vaguely aware Dakota is behind me. Guess she saw I’d stormed into the building and knew something was up.
Sarah turns. There’s a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She sees me, and the smile fades.
I point at her.
“Outside. Now.”
Dakota steps up and folds her arms. “Leland—”
“I need to talk to your friend, Dakota,” I say.
“It’s fine.” Sarah touches her friend on the arm as Dakota comes over to take up a defensive stance. Then she looks at me. “This way.”
I follow her through the kitchen and out through a back room to the porch. Then she rounds on me.
“You don’t have to like me, Sarah, I really don’t give a shit. But this?”
