“Granted,” she continues, “my aunt’s work last year raised an unprecedented amount of money for the hospital. I’m sure good old Cecile had more than enough on her hands, teaching her boyfriend how to act in public. No wonder he isn’t here tonight. He’d probably wander around, picking up empty glasses and clearing plates from the tables.”
What’s that feeling in my head? Like somebody kicked a beehive over. There’s a buzzing in there now. It’s almost deafening.
“Excuse me.” I take a few steps toward their cluster.
She turns my way. “Yes?”
I’d guess she’s roughly my age, maybe a little older. It strikes me as sad that somebody so young could be so close-minded.
“I was just wondering exactly who you think you are, talking about Peter that way. Do you even know him?”
She sniffs, looking me up and down. “Do you?”
“I do in fact. He’s my grandmother’s companion.”
Boom. Big, bright red spots pop up on her cheeks like magic. Not that she’ll back down that easily. “Oh, is he? That would make you the writer, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m her only grandchild, so yes.”
“You write that trashy stuff, don’t you?”
“Trashy?” I fold my arms but otherwise stay perfectly still.
“Romance.” She wrinkles her nose. “I can’t imagine that takes much work. It must be nice, knowing there’s a safety net in place once you decide to stop writing filth.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Not only is romance not the same as filth, but there’s also a place for both.” I take a step closer. “As for knowing there’s a safety net in place, don’t even get me started. Or did you somehow earn the trust your grandparents had set up for you before you were even born?”
That’s a guess, but knowing Whitney is her aunt tells me it’s a pretty good guess.
Her eyes narrow a second before her mouth opens like she’s about to come up with something really, truly nasty.
Which is when a knight comes in and saves the day. “Hi, honey.” Suddenly, there’s an arm around my waist, and a tall, firm man in a tuxedo is leading me away, toward the bar.
“Wha—who—”
“Just relax.”
Whoever he is, he’s strong. And fast. Before I know it, we’re practically on the other side of the room.
“What are you doing?” I finally manage to catch my breath long enough to speak, and then I plant my feet once we’ve put a little space between us and that wretched girl.
“Avoiding a catfight, right here in the middle of the Children’s Hospital fundraiser.”
I realize he’s laughing a split second before I glance up at him. I practically have to crane my neck, the man towers over me.
And he’s extremely handsome.
Other things matter more right now though.
“Thanks a lot, but I can handle myself.” I sidestep him, so I can get another look at that witch whose extensions I’m about to tear out.
He sidesteps, too, blocking me. “I’ve seen you walking around with the kind lady chairing this ball, and I don’t think she’d like it much if she knew you were throwing fists.”
“I have no intention of throwing fists. I can’t claw her eyes out with my fists clenched.”
She’s in the same spot, saying something snippy to her friends and looking over her shoulder at us. The skank.
He laughs again. “Come on. Let me get you a drink. You deserve one after dealing with that.” He ushers me to the bar.
“She has no right to talk about them.”
“And I’m afraid you’re going to crack a tooth if you clench your jaw any tighter. What would you like to drink?”
“Bourbon.”
“Got it.” He requests our drinks from the girl behind the bar, and soon, he presses a glass into my hand.
“Thank you,” I say before taking a big gulp of the amber liquid.
I probably shouldn’t drink it so fast, but he’s right—whoever he is.
“So, who was she talking about?” When I glance up, he shrugs. “You said she has no right to talk about them like that. Who was she talking about?”
“My grandmother and her partner, Peter. He’s the best. He’s like a grandfather to me.”
“That’s nice.”
“He used to be my grandmother’s butler.” I look up to check his reaction.
Dark brows draw together over a straight nose. “I see.”
“So, I guess you think that’s ridiculous too?”
He holds up his free hand. “Now, miss, I never said that. I’m not one of those highfalutin snobs like her.” Then, he slides a finger under his collar like he’s uncomfortable. “I hate these events. My daddy insisted I come with him since we’re in town this week and my mama was always a big supporter of children’s hospitals and programs for the families of sick kids. She’s gone now, but I think it would’ve made her happy to know we’re doing our small part.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mom.”
“Me too.” He offers a tight smile. “Anyway, here I am. Forcing a smile for a bunch of people I’ll never see again.”
I hold out a hand. “You also saved that girl’s life back there because I would’ve killed her. Kitty Valentine.”
“That’s quite a name.” His handshake is firm, his hand big enough to swallow mine. “Paxton Cleary.”
Bingo.
Do my eyes widen just a little too much when he says it? I try my darnedest not to look too happy at having accidentally attracted just the man I was looking for. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It was the perfect excuse to steal you away and pull you over here.” He looks me over with his coffee-colored eyes, and his smile widens.
Bingo again. He’s interested. This is going well. Don’t mess this up, Kitty.
“So, what do you do for fun, Paxton Cleary?” I toss my head a little because, well, that’s how people flirt. I’m trying to flirt. I’m trying to make him think I’m not a low-class troublemaker too.
He purses his generous mouth. “Hmm. I enjoy football, though in Texas, you either enjoy football or you’re shunned by friends and family, so I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I enjoy movies. Old ones in particular.”
“Me too!”
“Favorite director?”
“Billy Wilder.”
A smile lights up his face. “Me too! Elia Kazan is a close second.”
“Good choice.”
Just the fact that he can name-drop like that tells me he knows a little something.
“You have good taste.”
“I like to think so.”
He looks me up and down again in a way that makes my cheeks flush.
His glass is empty, and he signals the bartender for a refill. Just as she’s about to pour a fresh drink, Paxton is hit from behind and lurches forward, causing her to splash his tuxedo sleeve with alcohol. As the bartender apologizes and tries to wipe off his sleeve, a busty blonde clings to Paxton’s arm.
“I am so sorry!” she gasps. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I stumbled.”