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“Running out in tears already, huh? It’s only her second week,” Kyle said. My teammate walked up behind me, tossing his half-burned cigarette on the ground and stomping on it. How much of that had he heard? I groaned inwardly, knowing this was going to cause issues for me. “She won’t last.”
“Get fucked, Kyle. She’s going to be fine,” I told him. She would be more than fine. Amanda was the type of woman that was going to make a difference—the kind of real estate agent that would be well known. I shook my head. “She’s going to be amazing.”
Kyle clapped my shoulder, laughing loudly. “If you say so.” His laugh echoed off the buildings behind me, and I clenched my jaw. He was always moments from getting an earful, and right now my hand buzzed with the desire to punch him. Would he cry?
Get it together, Drake.
“I know so.”
Chapter thirteen
Amanda
“I’m not hiding, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes and pulling the cork from another bottle of wine.
She was right. I couldn’t hide out in the kitchen all night, but I wasn’t really hiding from the party. I just couldn’t stand listening to Dallas trying to make another business deal. It was the downside to seeing an investment banker. Everything was an opportunity, and everyone was a potential client. Even if they weren’t.
Nobody at Mackenzie and Bryson’s shower turned dinner party was going to buy into his ridiculous investment opportunities, no matter how successful he was. It wasn’t that kind of crowd. So when he walked off after another dead-end deal, I slid into the kitchen.
Mackenzie and Bryson were busy flittering around and talking to people who were here to shower them with gifts. It was my job to keep Mackenzie’s glass full all night. At least that was the excuse I was using.
Mom looked at me like she was about to tell me our goldfish died. It couldn’t be more obvious she didn’t believe me based on the look of pity that flashed across the eyes that mirrored mine. “It’s okay if you’re a little upset, honey,” she said, brushing a loose hair behind my ear.
I debated taking a swig of the wine directly from the bottle. “I’m not upset.” I shrugged as if to emphasize how upset I was not.
“How are things with you and Dallas?” My mom always wanted to know about that. It was probably partially hope that her daughter was going to end up married to a rich man that could take care of her. I thought back to the misunderstood proposal in the gardens, and my stomach churned. If only she knew.
“We’re just taking it slow. He’s a nice guy.” I smiled, wishing she would take enough to be enough. She wasn’t going to let it go, though, especially not now that she’s been planning my brother’s wedding. Now she wanted to plan mine.
My mom looked skeptical, running her hands over the bottle she had just set down. “Taking it slow?” She sighed. “And you’re sure everything is okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine.” I looked her in the eye and held her stare, hoping to erase the apprehension she so clearly felt. She always did this. She assumed I was unhappy being single—or whatever I was in this limbo with Dallas.
Mom nodded, gently patting my arm. She didn’t believe me. “I’m here for you if you need me,” she said, picking up the opened bottle and pouring herself a fresh glass. I sighed.
“I know, Mom. But really, I’m perfectly fine!”
I knew she didn’t believe me when she walked away, looking over her shoulder from the entryway to the dining room. By the time she was completely out of the kitchen, she’d be back in mother of the groom mode and would forget all about her concerns with my single-or-whatever-it-is life. At least I’d hoped.
I shook my head, rolling it in a circle and grabbing the open bottle of white wine by the neck to rejoin the party. Should I open another bottle? Just in case.
“A little tense?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice, feeling the bottle slip from my hand, and before I could stop it, it fell back to the counter. The bottle made a loud clunk sound before it tipped on its side and a flood of white wine flowed onto the granite. It dripped onto the floors, and when Drake chuckled next to me, I whipped around to glare at him.
“Seriously?” I shrieked. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?”
He laughed again, shrugging. “I didn’t mean to?” He smirked and looked back at the bottle of wine that was now mostly empty and still on its side.
“Shit,” I gasped, snatching it. Frustration filled me, chased by panic as the semisweet scent of the spilled wine filled the kitchen. I glared at him, reaching for the roll of paper towels next to the sink. I unrolled a few squares before shoving the roll towards him. “Here. You can help.”
He took the towels from me, pulling a couple from the roll without argument and soaking up the mess on the counter. He looked gentle, like he was lacking the normal sarcasm that would be dripping from him any other day.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
When I looked up at him, he was staring at me. Was he being genuine? My jaw dropped in temporary surprise, and then I snapped it shut again. “You should be,” I said, wishing I’d sounded sterner. Instead, I sounded as soft as he looked.
I threw the first bundle of wine-soaked paper towels into the trash, grabbing another handful. As I did, Drake just watched me. His sopping wet towels sat untouched in front of him. “I don’t mean for startling you,” he said. His blue eyes were intense looking into mine, and I couldn’t turn away.
