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I swallow as if I’ve done something naughty and am getting caught. Truth is, I’m just a horny twenty-eight-year-old woman who can’t make eye contact with a man without blushing.
“You’re not good at it?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation alive before I melt on the spot. I’m pretty sure there’re eyes burning a hole in the back of my dress.
“Notasgood. I mean, anything else, I’m better. Girly cocktails? He can have it.”
My nerves seem to ease as I sit at the bar and watch Charlie make my drink.
“How’s Anthony?” he asks.
“He’s okay. The same.”
Charlie nods. Mason doesn’t talk to me about our Dad—ever, but I know that he’s extremely close with Charlie and Elliot, and they will know everything there is to know and would never let him struggle with the weight of it.
“I’ll pop out sometime. Maybe we could go down to Rosestone, see Glen and Frey.”
Rosestone. Elliot’s parents’ estate and the neighbouring estate to Lowerwick. The only reason Charlie would suggest that is because Mason would never contemplate coming home. “I’d love that,” I tell him, knowing he’s being genuine and will want to come out and see us.
“Scar, I want a picture of you, please.”
Spinning around in my seat, I eye my brother as if he’s grown three heads. “You want a picture of me?”
“Is that okay?”
I frown, sliding off the stool. “I guess so.”
Elliot grins at me as I follow Mason out of the room and over to the entrance, where the matte-black tile wall works as the perfect backdrop.
My heels tap against the floor as I approach the wall, and as I turn, I hear my brother’s camera clicking off. “I’m not ready. Wait!”
“I’m trying to get some candid shots.”
“Bullshit, they’re blurry as shit, aren’t they?”
He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. The shutter goes off again. “Mase!”
“Here.” Charlie takes the phone from Mase and pushes him toward me. “Go stand with your sister.”
Mason joins me by the wall and wraps an arm proudly around my waist. We smile and laugh, and something special seems to happen in the brief moment. One of those memories so small and unplanned that I’ll remember it forever.
“Thank you for this evening,” I say, looking up at him.
He glances down at me. “Thank you for coming.” Leaning in, he kisses my forehead. “I’ll do better, yeah?”
I smile, not trusting a nod.
“Aldridge, get in here,” Mason tells him.
Charlie swaps with Mason, and we have a picture. Then Elliot insists he can’t be left out. And then Lance strolls around the corner, his black tux, with a crisp white shirt and braces stretching over his strong chest, making me want to run a mile.
“Lance,” Charlie says. “You’d better get over there too.”
God, no.Charlie Aldridge, I will murder you!
At first, I don’t think he’ll do it—he’s not even spoken to me yet—but then something sparks in his eyes as he watches me.
His feet set off toward me.
I swallow, my body burning as his arm brushes my shoulder. I probably look stiff and uncomfortable, but I can’t even think straight to correct the expression on my face. I glance up at him, catching a glare directed at me. A hard, pained look marring his already harsh face. But still, he slips his arm behind my back, his fingers splaying across my dress and flexing into my hip as we both turn toward Charlie.
