by Vivian Wood
He could tell, even from across the room, that they’d started to grill her mercilessly. Connor felt a wave of protectiveness and made a dash across the ballroom to save her. He didn’t care that he left his own conversation somewhat abruptly.
“Do you mind if I steal my bride-to-be for a moment?” he asked the old women as he plastered on a smile.
“By all means,” one of the blue hairs said, and gestured them off with a flick of her gem-encrusted bony fingers.
Connor glanced down and expected a thankful smile from Sam. But all she gave him was a stony expression. Damn. I’d started to expect that smile.
He took her hand and pulled her to a quiet corner of the ballroom. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I, um, I thought you could… you know, use some rescuing there—”
“Have you got your money’s worth from me yet?” she asked coldly.
Connor pulled back. It felt like he’d been slapped. “What?”
“Well, it’s clear you have a specific idea of how your ‘fiancée’ is supposed to behave. So, I’m just wondering, how am I doing?”
“Uh, good?” he asked. This was new territory and she clearly had the advantage. Though he didn’t know how or what that meant. “Sam, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “That line? Really? Wow, okay. Although, maybe you’re right. Because it certainly is you.”
“I know!” he said, then glanced around when he realized a couple of people had jumped at his voice. “I know, okay? I just… I don’t like the idea of being too emotionally involved.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before taking me to Monaco and fucking me for four days,” she whispered to him.
“I know,” he agreed. “That was a mistake.”
Her eyes widened.
“I don’t mean that. You weren’t a mistake. Jesus Christ. I mean, it was a mistake of me… doing that. It shouldn’t have happened. Look, I don’t—I’ve never liked the idea of being tied down.”
“Oh, now I’m tying you down?” she asked. “You’re the one who was engaged before. Not me. So, clearly, you do like being tied down. Just not with me.”
His head spun. He couldn’t keep track of what was happening, especially since her words seemed to make sense. “Listen, I want you to understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” she said as she shot him a scathing look.
“I don’t think you do,” he said. “When I came up with this crazy idea of hiring you, I’ll admit it was totally impulsive. That’s not what I had in mind when I came to your work. I was pissed off, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I—”
“And you just thought you’ve bought everything else in life. Why not a fiancée? I’m a fucking moron,” she said as she shook her head.
“Let me explain,” he said. “And it’s not you. I took advantage of the whole thing.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “And I let you. Can I go now?” she asked, like she was asking permission from a parent. “I have a headache.”
“Can I just try to get you to understand?”
“I read once that after twenty minutes, there’s no point in talking or arguing anymore. Both parties have said all they can say at that particular time. So please, will you just let me go? You can make up whatever story you like to tell these people.”
He sighed and looked around. Nobody watched them. It was like they didn’t exist. “I’m not your keeper,” he told her.
“Could have fooled me,” she said and headed toward the door.
He watched her leave, and felt like an asshole. How could you do something that would make her react like this?
“Connor, where’s the fiancée off to?” One of the donors, already drunk, wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulders and leaned into him.
“Women stuff,” Connor said. “You know how it is.”
“Actually, I don’t,” the donor said.
“Excuse me?”
“Gay. Remember?” he asked and wiggled his brows at Connor.
“Oh, yeah. Well, consider yourself lucky.”
“Right,” the donor said, suddenly pissed off. “Because it’s so hard being a straight, white, rich male.” He wandered off, and Connor berated himself. How could I piss off one of the most promising donors?
His touch had faded, and he could only blame himself. Sam made him crazy, and drove out all thoughts of the business from his mind. He couldn’t stand that she was mad at him, but he couldn’t come up with any way to win her over again.
He pulled out his phone and wondered if he should call her, or text her. But when he scrolled to her name, he just couldn’t do it. Instead, he erased Sandra’s name and typed in Sam. It was the least he could do.
Connor’s notifications on the dating app had piled up. Simply to clear them, he clicked on it and went to “erase all.” But he saw that a familiar-looking girl had matched with him, and viewed him recently.
“Jenny_fromthe_Ward” didn’t look particularly like his type. Although that night in Monaco, he’d swiped right like a maniac without even looking. He clicked on her profile and went through the handful of pictures. She was kind of cute, petite with a severe black bob. “I’m an event manager,” she’d written.
Event manager? Shit. He realized exactly who she was. What were the odds of Sam’s coworker getting matched with him on the app? Well, pretty high, actually. Everyone was on it. And he’d never not matched with anyone before.
What if Jenny told Sam? The girl didn’t seem particularly confident or outgoing. Was she a gossip? How close were they exactly? And what if Sam figured out he’d matched with this girl while they were in Monaco?
You’re overreacting, he told himself. There’s no way that will happen.
Connor clicked off the app quickly, as if that would do anything to erase what he’d done. Again he went to Sam’s name in his contacts, but he couldn’t think of what to say. Maybe he should just give her more time to cool down. Do something now, and it might blow everything up.
“What are you doing over here like a wallflower?” His dad came out of nowhere, as per usual. “Go out there and mingle. Where’s Sam?”
“She was just here,” he said. “And I’ve mingled them to death.”
“Yeah? Carlos didn’t seem too happy just now,” his father said, as he nodded toward the donor Connor had just insulted.
He sighed. “He’ll get over it.”
“I certainly hope so. The last thing we need is one of the most influential young donors in the city claiming Trezor is homophobic, racist, or both.”
Yeah. I’m the one who’s going to give us that reputation.
25
Sam
Sam bit into another of Aunt Mary’s famous soft oatmeal cookies and moaned. “I don’t know how you do it,” she told the older woman.
“Cold ghee, not butter,” she said simply, and placed down two cold glasses of cashew milk for her and Ellie.
“I’m so glad you never sold this house,” Sam told her. “I have fond college memories of waking up here on Sunday mornings!”
“And me pretending I didn’t know you girls were hungover as all get out,” she said. “Ain’t no amount of cheap cocktails a few cookies can’t fix.”
“I wish a hangover was the worst of it,” Sam said.
Ellie held her hand across the table. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “You have my full attention for the next few days. Especially with Henry going all James Bond with his US Marshals mission and everything,” she said with a smile.
Sam let out a deep sigh. “Thanks,” she said. “To both of you. But this is good. It helps. I just—God, I just need to get away from my life for awhile.”
“You know,” Ellie said gently, “you don’t have to keep up this charade. Why don’t you let me look at the contract? I’m sure there’s something in there—”
Sam made a face and cut her off. “Oh, I’m going to finish out the month, and then I’m quitting. Yo
u can bet on that. I’m tired of his bullshit.”
“Language,” Aunt Mary said.
“Sorry,” she said, ashamed. “That’s how crazy he makes me! You see? Ugh, I wish I hadn’t gotten mixed up in this whole mess.”
“That’s what you get when something sounds too good to be true,” Aunt Mary said as she sat down with them. “How much did you say he was paying you again?”
“Um, a lot,” Sam said. It embarrassed her to say the amount out loud. She’d cut the real number in half when she’d told Ellie, and Ellie had still flipped out.
“Well, money isn’t more important than your sanity,” Ellie said. She pulled her thick red hair up into a ponytail.
“I don’t get this whole ‘arrangement’ thing,” Aunt Mary said. “Are you allowed to date other people during it? Is he?”
“As far as I know,” Sam said. “I can tell you for certain he is, that’s a fact.”
“Well, then if you don’t mind the advice of an old woman, I suggest you do just that.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked. Already, Ellie had perked up.
“Go out tonight. Meet some fellows. Have fun, for goodness’ sake. You’re young and beautiful!” Aunt Mary said. “And you,” she said to Ellie. “You be a good wingwoman while our Henry’s gone. You deserve to go out, too. I know he can be a bit of a stick in the mud.”
Ellie blushed and looked away. “Aunt Mary, I didn’t exactly bring any clubbing clothes with me. That wasn’t what I was expecting when we decided I’d stay the week with you.”
“You girls and your excuses. I’m sure Sam has something you can borrow.”
Sam locked eyes with Ellie, who arched an eyebrow at her. “Why not?” Ellie said. “Just because I’m coupled up doesn’t mean I can’t be one hell of a wingwoman.”
“That’s the spirit!” Aunt Mary said. “Just make sure you take a taxi. And don’t worry. I won’t wait up.” She began to clear the plates, and they jumped up to help.
“Where should we go?” Ellie asked her as they scrubbed the plates in the farmhouse sink.
“Ugh, somewhere that doesn’t remind me of him, please,” Sam said. “Wait, I have an idea.” She grabbed the newspaper from the counter and flipped to the arts section. “Here,” she said, and pointed to a half-page ad. “A huge barbecue and beer festival going on today and tomorrow. There’s no way he’d be caught dead there.” However, in the back of her mind, she remembered that killer smokehouse he’d taken her to. But that had just been a one-off oddity, for sure.
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t exactly have a club type of vibe…”
“No, but look! There are horses available. Wouldn’t it be awesome to go on a ride again, like we used to? And afterward, some barbeque. Some beer. Some cowboys…”
Ellie laughed. “Sounds like you have it all figured out,” she said. “I’m in. When’s it start? Three? Let’s do it.”
They raced up the stairs to get ready in Henry’s old room.
“Good girl, Gypsy,” Sam cooed as she patted the rich brown mare with a bright blaze of white on her nose.
“I have to say, this is the first time I’ve been armed with a squirt gun on a ride,” Ellie said beside her as she examined the fluorescent green gun.
Sam shrugged. “Who knows? These kinds of events are always managed by hipsters.”
Whether it was a slow amble or a trot, being in the saddle wore on her thighs and groin. It annoyed her that even out on a ranch, she was reminded of Connor. Sam couldn’t wait until all traces of that shitstorm in Monaco were out of her system.
After two hours on the trail, they were helped off the horses by muscled, middle-aged farmhands. “You lovely ladies have a good time,” one of them said as he eyed Ellie in her skintight jeans.
They dug into the Louisiana-style baby back ribs, creamy coleslaw and buttery cornbread with gusto. “I don’t know what it is about riding,” Sam said. “But it gets my appetite going like no other. I’d weigh three hundred pounds if I ever lived on a ranch.”
“Yeah, right,” Ellie said with a laugh. “And it would all go to your boobs and butt, I’m sure!”
She swatted at her as she wiped her hands on the wet towelettes that came with their paper plates. Sam swallowed the last of her beer and shook the bottle. “I could go for something stronger,” she said.
Ellie pointed to the barn. “They have whiskey and moonshine back there,” she said. “I saw a sign.”
“You want to?” Sam asked with a grin.
Ellie laughed. “Sure. As soon as you wipe that sauce off your cheek.”
They ordered doubles of Jack Daniels on the rocks and walked around the side of the barn. “I can’t believe you did that!” she squealed to Sam.
“I didn’t do anything! They did! I just asked if they’d fill our guns with the moonshine. They didn’t have to. Watch out!”
Ellie barely avoided a sun-baked cow pie. “I wish I’d brought my cowboy boots to Aunt Mary’s,” she grumbled.
Sam rolled her eyes. “You look perfectly fine!” she said.
“Hey, look,” Ellie said, but she didn’t need to tell Sam. A group of five guys around thirty years old were tipsy while they made full use of the water guns.
“They never grow up,” Sam said with a laugh. But she had to admit they were cute. It was in a private area, far from the festival grounds. One of the guys had already stripped his plaid button-up off and had it draped over the stable fencing.
“Looks like we have a crowd,” the blond guy said as he caught sight of them. “Sorry, ladies, no voyeurs allowed. You either join in, or you mosey along.”
“Mosey?” Sam asked. “Sounds like you’ve been on this farm too long.”
She saw two of the guys nudge each other in back as they sized her and Ellie up. They wore wide grins that matched. “Those are the rules,” the blond said as he approached them.
Ellie giggled and deferred to Sam. It had been a long time since Ellie was single, but Sam had this. She looked at his chest, which was either bare or clean-shaven. He wasn’t nearly as bulked up as Connor, but he wasn’t slight like the models either. It was an all-American type of build, and in its foreignness to her it was attractive.
Sam looked him in the eye, raised her gun and sprayed him lightly. “Who’s the voyeur now?” she asked.
He laughed and backed away. “Holy shit, that’s not water.”
“Moonshine,” she said with a smile.
He raised his own gun and sprayed her white shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest in protest. “Hey! Not fair, you didn’t have a shirt on.”
“Nobody’s making you keep yours on,” he teased her. The boys descended on them and aimed for their chest. Both her and Ellie’s tight white tank tops were instantly soaked through. Here’s to wearing cute, bright lace bras under Hanes tank tops, she thought to herself.
“Give me some of that,” a boy with long black hair said to Ellie, and forced her to squeeze some of the moonshine into his mouth.
“Totally not fair,” Ellie said. “You’re lucky we were nice and didn’t drown you in cheap liquor.”
“What can we say? We have a thing for nice girls,” one of the guys said.
“So, what are you two up to now?” the blond asked. “This will be shutting down soon. I mean, unless you’re staying for the campfire events and stuff.”
“Nah, I think we’ve had enough,” Sam said.
“Cool. So, you want to hang out? Or…”
Ellie looked at her. It was all up to Sam. “Sure!” she said.
“Great, any ideas? We’re not from around here, so we’re kind of playing it by ear.”
“How about Kabin?” Sam asked. She couldn’t stop the words from coming out. It had to be the whiskey, that was it. But she felt emboldened and strong. Who gives a fuck?
Ellie shot her a look.
“Uh, sure,” the guy said. “Never heard of it. Here, let me put my number in your phone and you can text me the address.”
“Looks fancy,” the guy said as he looked up the place.
“You’ll be fine as long as you have a button-up,” she said. “How about we meet there at ten? We need to go home and change. You know, change out of our wet t-shirt outfits and all,” she said with a wink.
He smiled at her, and she recognized the look. He thought he’d score tonight. Maybe he will, Sam thought.
“Sam,” Ellie hissed as they headed for their Uber. “That’s where you ran into Connor last time! Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Sam knew Connor would probably be there, but she didn’t care. That was the point, she realized. “It’s fine!” she reassured Ellie. “It’ll be fun. Besides, what are the odds of him being there tonight anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ellie said pointedly. “Do you?”
Sam sighed. What was the big deal if she wanted to make Connor jealous? It’s not like he owned the freaking club. She could go where she wanted, with who she wanted.
“Just be careful,” Ellie said. “This was supposed to be a fun night out. Remember? I said I’d be your wingman, but I don’t know what I’m getting myself into with—”
“Relax,” Sam said as she wove her arm through Ellie’s. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
26
Connor
He stepped out of the shower, grateful to wash the workout sweat from his body. Ever since he’d left Sam on that plane, he’d doubled down at the gym. It was the only place and the only way he could focus on anything besides her.
Connor vaguely remembered Arnold Schwarzenegger talking about his Mr. Universe days. Working out was likened to a blackout. He’d said it didn’t even really click when he got a call that his father had died. He’d just gone right back to his reps.
That’s what Connor hoped for.
However, it was mostly quantity and not quality. He barely slept, and insomnia wasn’t the best accoutrement to gym sessions. He couldn’t lift as much as he used to, and his reps weren’t as high. He powered through them, but mostly it was cardio. When he looked at the time and realized he’d somehow lost an hour on the treadmill, it felt like a gift.