The back door banged against the house, and Debra shouted a greeting from the middle of the deck. “Momma, you came! And Dena . . . you brought him with you?” Her voice trailed off.
Great. The infamous Nana Ruby was here.
And so were Dena’s kids.
“I came across him as he was strolling up to the door,” Dena said, speaking in a tight drawl that conveyed her disgust.
Dena was the spitting image of her mother, right down to the way she curled her upper lip when dealing with someone she didn’t like, which not so surprisingly included a great many people. Blair still had her back to the deck, but she was certain Dena’s lip had curled into her trademark sneer, and she was equally certain she knew who’d put it there. She wouldn’t turn around yet. If she kept her back turned, maybe everything would be okay.
The high-pitched screaming of Dena’s children made Blair cringe. “Great. Dena did bring her wonder brats. They’re the most ill-behaved children I’ve ever met, but she thinks they’re absolutely perfect.”
“Blair,” Megan reprimanded. “They’re children.” She eyed them running all around the deck like a set of wild banshees. “They’re bound to have some energy.”
“Ha. We’ll see if you’re still saying that by the end of the evening. Ten dollars says one of them will end up in the pool.”
“Only a fool would take that bet,” a familiar male voice said from behind her. “And I wager you’d push one of them in to make sure you won.”
A chill ran down Blair’s spine. She clenched her fists at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms. Oh, how she wanted to take in the sight of him, but she knew it would be safer if she kept her back to him while she tried to resuscitate her dying self-control.
Surprise filled Megan’s eyes as she stared at the man behind Blair. “I didn’t know my mother had invited any men to the party.”
“Technically, she didn’t invite any men,” Blair said, wishing Libby would show up with her drink already. Hopefully it would be whiskey. “They just keep dropping in.”
“Like that song about raining men.” He laughed, a rich warm sound that sent a fire racing through her blood. “That sounds like a single woman’s dream come true.”
“No,” she said, slowly spinning to face him, glad her anger had kicked into gear. It made it easier for her to fight her reaction to him. “Change it to women, and it sounds like your dream come true. Player.” The word was jagged and sharp, like a weapon, but she needed the reminder.
He looked even more gorgeous than he had this afternoon. He’d changed into a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips, making her imagination run wild, and a blue button-down shirt. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a smattering of hair on his chest, and his long sleeves were rolled up, showing her that his forearms were just as built as they’d been when they dated.
Her body was about to combust.
“Blair,” Megan said, jolting her back to reality. “I take it you know him?” Of course Megan hadn’t met him. She’d run off to Seattle by then, running away from her mother.
So Libby hadn’t squealed. She’d love to run away and hide from this, but running had never been her style. No need to start now. “Megan McMillan. Meet Garrett Lowry. My ex-boyfriend.”
Chapter Thirteen
The moment Garrett stepped onto the deck, his eyes instantly found Blair. Her back was to him, but he had no doubt it was her. He ignored the chaos his aunt and mother were creating while Nana watched with narrowed eyes. As far as he was concerned, he’d fulfilled his duty by escorting Nana to the party.
Common sense told him that pursuing Blair at her own wedding shower was a bad idea, yet he was as drawn to her as a plant was to sunlight. She’d changed into a simple peach dress and a pair of white sandals, and her hair hung down her back in loose waves.
The pretty brunette next to Blair watched him closely as he approached, probably wondering why there was a man at a wedding shower. Blair was talking about his cousin’s bratty children, so he decided to lead with a joke about her pushing one of Dena’s kids into the pool.
Smooth, Garrett.
Instead of stomping off, she introduced him to her friend Megan. The way she did it insinuated she didn’t want him there, but he noticed a couple of things, both in his favor. One, the way she moved a little bit closer when she turned to him, as if she felt as helplessly drawn to him as he did her, and two, her eyes had turned that enthralling shade of sky blue.
But he was struggling to stay focused on the conversation. She was gorgeous in peach. It brought out the color in her pale skin and made her eyes even bluer.
He could tell her friend—Megan—had already heard about him, not that he was surprised. Blair had told him plenty about her two best friends. “Garrett from law school?” the woman gasped.
Blair’s lips pinched as she slightly stuck out her leg and crossed her arms. “The one and the same.”
Megan lowered her voice to a hiss. “What’s he doing here?”
“Stirring up shit. What he does best.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Garrett said. Her words didn’t faze him—he knew that every second she continued to talk to him was a second in his favor. “I’m here because Nana insisted I bring her to the shower. You know me, Blair. The last thing I would choose to do with my night is play what’s in your purse with a bunch of women.”
“The fact you know a shower game is a bit frightening.”
He shrugged. “I’m a wealth of information.”
A sardonic smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Looks like you’ve done your duty. I’m sure you’re free to leave.”
He shook his head and gave her a smug grin. “No can do. Nana says she owns me for the night.” He scanned the food table. “Got anything to drink besides that pink punch on the table? Is it spiked? I think we’re all gonna need it if we’re going to endure a couple of hours with my mother and my aunt.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the argument still raging behind him. The hostess was probably regretting throwing this party right about now. Or at least inviting those two.
“You still haven’t explained how he ended up here,” Megan said, addressing them both.
Blair sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s actually very convoluted.”
“Oh!” a woman exclaimed from behind him. “I arrived just in time. I love convoluted stories.”
Blair’s eyes narrowed, and if possible, she tensed up even more. “You already know the story, Libby.”
The woman came to a stop at his side and handed Blair a red plastic cup. “I had to sneak that out of the house. The red clashes with Knickers’ party colors, and I’m pretty sure whiskey doesn’t fit in with the food theme.”
“God bless you.” Blair snatched the cup and took a generous sip.
And this was another sign in his favor. Blair had never needed a crutch to get through adversity—hell, she thrived on it—but now she was acting like she needed alcohol to get through the evening. Sure, Libby had left to get her a drink before he arrived, but he knew it wasn’t his argumentative and judgmental relatives who were affecting her.