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Because that’s pure bullshit.
Cole hops up easily now, making room for me and Chance next to Luna, and flashes me an impressed smile. He whispers something to Chance, and though I don’t hear it clearly, it kinda sounds like ‘cojones’, but I can’t be sure.
He makes his way to Kayla, sitting next to her.
Though all the Harringtons have that California beach beauty look, Cole and Kayla are copy/paste fraternal twin versions of one another—down to the same natural highlights in their hair and the observant spark in their eyes. Cole’s wearing black slacks and a bright blue shirt, but though he’s dressed the part, there’s something a little rougher about him than the other brothers. I can’t put my finger on it, but he seems a little more physical than cerebral like Carter and Chance, like he’d be more likely to pick you up in a farmer’s carry than get into a verbal debate over thread count minimums for sheets.
I sit down as Chance pulls out my chair, and beneath the table, Luna pats my thigh in support, but then she pinches me, so maybe a bit warningly too.
Miranda sits back down at Charles’s side, and I realize that he’s said nothing. I kinda took away his opportunity with my little speech. Politely, I say, “Good to see you again, Mr. Harrington.”
His eyes narrow, and he picks up the small glass of brown liquid in front of him. He lifts it the tiniest bit in some sort of salute and then sips, still not saying a word.
Yeah, I probably pissed him all the way off, but he’s not my concern. Chance is.
And maybe I want to show Chance that his family isn’tall that, so he doesn’t need to be scared of angering them or, more likely, disappointing them. They’re humans, flaws and all, too.
Echoing his father’s lead, Cameron takes a drink from his glass, but rather than a sip, he tosses both fingers back in one go. I don’t know Cameron other than through Grace’s stories, and to hear her tell it, he’s always busy with work, but he calls her ‘beautiful like her mother’. I’m not sure what happened to her mom, only that she passed away when Grace was little, and I wonder if Cameron is still dealing with his feelings about that.
I’d love to give him a recommendation for a grief counselor who could help, but he’s probably seen one already or isn’t ready to face that loss yet. And professionally, it’s not really my place. Still, my heart breaks for him a little. Nobody deserves that kind of pain.
“Is Gracie here?” I ask Cameron.
He shrugs but still answers, “She’s with a sitter. She’ll be here soon.”
“I saw her at the park the other day. She's growing up so fast! I think she and my sister had fun with Peanut Butter,” I say, trying to make conversation with him.
“Yeah.”
Okay, so either he’s not a conversationalist or he doesn’t want to talk with me.
“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Miranda interjects, covering for Cameron.
I nod affirmatively. “Yeah, Olivia’s sixteen, with all the accompanying drama. My mom’s basically going for sainthood with that one.” I smile lightly as if teen girls and drama are an absolute given.
Miranda winks at Kayla. “Well, I wouldn’t know. My daughter was, and is, an absolute angel.” Everyone here knows that Kayla is no such thing. Chance describes his sister as ‘a bomb in pretty packaging’, and I imagine that’s a developed trait to make Charles proud of her considering she’s not one of his favored sons.
“How’d you two meet?” Beth asks. “Did I catch that you and Luna are friends?”
I look to Chance, letting him take this one. He can share as much or as little as he wants about us, though I don’t expect him to say we’re hooking up and I’m only here because Kayla invited me.
“They are,” Chance starts, “but somehow, I’d never met Samantha through Luna since I missed the ‘wedding’.” He says it with air quotes because technically, it was Luna and Carter’s vow renewal that he missed. Their wedding was teeny-tiny and drama-filled. “But Samantha and I ran into each other one day at a, uh...conference, and we hit it off.”
I grin, trying to swallow the giggle at our dicks-out meeting being called a conference, and oh, did we ‘hit it off’ in a spectacular show of fireworks and orgasms. Chance places a heavy hand on my thigh, reading my mind.
“She’s helping at the Gentlemen’s Club now too, offering classes for our members. I think Evan and I have her talked into being a guest on our podcast as well.” He sounds proud—of himself, his business, and me.
“Oh, that’s lovely. What sort of classes?”
Beth’s seemingly innocuous follow-up leads right into dangerous territory, and I can feel Chance’s stress as he tries to figure out the best way to describe what I’m bringing to the club table.
But I’ve done this before. My scope of practice is always a shock for people, and I’ve learned that blunt professionalism is best to dissuade any lewd jokes or tactless commentary.
Taking over, I say, “I’m finishing my graduate studies in psychology, with a focus on intimate relationships. I’m helping the club members reshape expectations born of decades of indoctrination to find more intentional mental space, which will allow them to be good partners in their romantic relationships.”
Beth blinks and then looks at Chuck. “Did you catch that?” He doesn’t move his head in the slightest, which I take to be a no. Turning back to me, Beth says, “Tell it to me like I’m stupid.”
She’s no such thing. If anything, I’d bet she’s the most emotionally intelligent person at this table, having grown up in a time of ‘sit still and look pretty’ but somehow managing to become a powerhouse in her own home. Oh, Chuck’s the boss, but I suspect it’s because Beth lets him be. Or think that he is. She’s a wily one.
