The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I don’t think we’re supposed to do this if we’ve picked the wine selection,” I murmured, watching the waiter fill up the first glass in a line of six.

Matthew stopped him with a hand. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

I ignored how surprisingly hot that had been and watched the waiter nodding and walking away, leaving the display of bottles in front of us.

“Wow,” I observed. “He really left six bottles of very expensive wine unsupervised. They must know we’re bride and groom.”

There was no reason for me to freeze at the last three words, but I did. Maybe it was how easily they’d left me, or the familiarity of saying them, as if my mouth was used to working around them. Or the fact that it was the first time I acknowledged us as bride and groom. Out loud. Casually. Like nothing.

I gave myself a shake. “You know what I mean.”

Matthew’s eyes remained on me a second before returning to the bottle he held in his hand. “I do.”

“Let’s strategize,” I offered quickly. “We should think what we’re going to tell Bobbi when she finds out we had a sit-down with Willa. Let’s think of exactly what we said and how we said it and when we said it. Yes. That way we’ll know what’s on that tape.”

Matthew frowned at the glass he’d just filled. “All right,” he conceded. “But we can do that while we drink.”

I arched my brows. “Getting drunk is not going to help us strategize.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk?” He turned back to me, leaning an elbow on the bar. “This is a wine tasting. For us.” He pointed his head at the far end of the bar. “It says so on the—very classy—sign: Andrew Underwood is pleased to welcome you into his home to celebrate the engagement of Josephine and Matthew with a local selection of wines for your tasting.”

“Which we selected,” I repeated with a light laugh. “You and me. We sat down at Josie’s two days ago, in the evening, and picked six out of a long list. We know exactly how they taste.”

“Thing is, I’ve totally forgotten,” Matthew said with a shrug. “In fact, I can’t remember a single thing from that day, except for something about a tiramisu and no longer feeling sad.”

It was hard to ignore the way my chest constricted at that. “There was your pie too,” I said, voice the slightest bit wobbly. “That I loved. Remember now?”

There was a moment in which we looked at each other. Just that. Just gazed into each other’s eyes. Then he made a thinking face, looking so unbearably cute that it cost me a great deal of willpower to shoot him a warning glance. A reluctant sigh left him. “We should really act like bride and groom.”

The wording—or the words, once again—made me frown.

Matthew continued, “Willa has been staring at us since we left the table,” and I didn’t need to turn to know it was true. I trusted Matthew. Unlike me, he wouldn’t lie. Only thing was, now I wondered if this was the only reason why he insisted on us having that private moment. “If we strategize, as you suggested, it’ll look like she got to us. And I don’t trust her, or her intentions, after this afternoon.”

I didn’t either. Not completely. I knew she was doing her job, whatever that was at the end of the day, but… “We’re running out of allies,” I said with a sigh. “You never trusted Bobbi. Or Andrew. Now Willa. You don’t trust anybody.”

“Not around you, I don’t.” My lips parted with surprise, and his brows met, his expression turning intent. “Andrew’s also been looking like he wants to approach but doesn’t know how. I’ve waited all evening for him to do it, and I’m done with that, too.”

I’m done with that, too.

He was done with what? Waiting? And what was whatever else he was done with?

Matthew’s arms rose in the space between us, and he stepped closer, crowding my space in a way that had my heart skipping a beat or two. “Can I have this?” he asked, giving the handkerchief I had around my hair a soft tug. I nodded my head, overwhelmed by how nice he smelled and how good that sudden lack of space between us felt. “Thank you,” he said, voice going low. I felt him make work of the already loose knot, then my hair cascaded down. Goose bumps erupted at my shoulder blades at the tickle of my hair against my skin. “Close your eyes.”

My mouth parted with a shaky, “Matthew.”

“Close them for me, Baby Blue,” he insisted, as if my warning had worked. It hadn’t been for him. It was for me. And yet my eyelids fluttered shut. He hummed with something that could only be described as delight. If delight could ever sound a little too deep and dark. “I’m going to tie this around your eyes,” he explained softly, more of that cadence hugging his words. “You seem to know these so well that this is the only way to taste them.”

The silk fell against my skin, anticipation surging deep inside me. His wrists grazed the sides of my head. I sensed his fingers moving around a knot. My heart thrummed. “We’re doing a blind tasting?”

His words flickered across my temple. “You are.”

The handkerchief must have been secured around my eyes, because I felt his hands and arms falling. I brought mine up, feeling the impromptu blindfold with the pads of my fingers.

Excitement, plain and simple, broke through, bubbling in my belly. I failed to push it down, so the best I could do was say, “But we’re in the middle of a party.”

“And you’re my fiancée.”

A helpless breath escaped me, together with something that should have remained a thought. “You say that like nothing.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low. “I say this like it’s a reason to do with you whatever I want.”

A new wave of anticipation poured down my body in response.

Matthew hummed. “I love that smile on you. It’s a new one.”

I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. “I don’t think I have more than one.”

“You do.” A caress brushed against my cheek. I shivered. “And I think I’m going to call this one your please, Matthew smile.”

I huffed out a breath, giving my head a half-hearted shake.

“And that one right there is your I’m going to pretend you’re ridiculous, but I actually think you’re ridiculously hot smile.”

My lips pursed. “I thought we were tasting wines. Not smiles, Boston Boy.”

A deep chuckle coiled around me, making it twice as hard to keep my pout up. “My brain is very selective with the topics when I’m a little on edge. You were lucky my accent didn’t come out with all that Fenway trivia.”

I perked up with interest. “You have a Boston accent?”

“You’re doing your please, Matthew smile again. Does that mean you want to hear it?”

The glug glug of a glass being filled crowded the silence. I wanted to. So badly. “No, I think I’m good.” I leaned my elbow on the bar, regaining a little space and resting my hand on its surface. I drummed my nails. “When’s my blind tasting starting?”

The tips of my fingers brushed the base of a glass. My lips parted with a question, but then Matthew was right there again. Reclaiming the room between us. His scent, woodsy, peppermint, clean, permeated my senses, the sudden closeness twice as intoxicating. “Josie,” he said, voice grave, that Boston cadence clinging to my name. “The Green Monstah’s big, but I’m biggah.”

It was ridiculous how absolutely arousing I’d found that. Ri-dic-u-lous how my toes were all but curling, my cheeks most certainly flushing red.

I… was into Bostonians, it seemed. Or I simply was into him. I cleared my throat. “Is that a pickup line? Has it ever worked?”

Matthew’s words fell right over the shell of my ear. “I might use it again”—the tip of his nose brushed my hair—“if you ask nicely. See how well it really does.”

A shiver cascaded down my arms, his words triggering memories. Husky whispers and that hint of command in his voice. You’re going to be a good girl and let me work for those moans. I was hardly able to shake that off now, so I released a breath, feeling it wobble as it came out.

“I’m… thirsty?”

The graze of Matthew’s stubble over my jaw told me he was on the move again. Fingers wrapped around my wrist, gently turning the hand that had been resting on the bar. The neck of a glass pushed softly against my palm. “We’re starting nice and easy,” he said.

I closed my hand around it and brought it to my lips, biting down the disappointment that he wasn’t going to raise the glass there himself. I inhaled softly, the crisp and floral notes telling me it had to be a white. Closing my lips around the rim, I tipped the glass slowly, just enough for a small sip. I ignored the weight of Matthew’s attention on me. His gaze. Because it was silly that I could feel that with a blindfold on. I focused on the aftertaste, my tongue peeking out to clean off my lips. “Viognier,” I said. “Old Stud Winery. Has a red horse on the label. Owned by a married couple. She’s a biochemist, and I thought, who better than that to know what they’re doing around wine? I also think a lady in STEM just kicks ass. The peach note is very nice. No shame to her husband, but it was probably her idea.”

There was a pause that followed my words. A moment. Just a heartbeat. And then Matthew laughed, but it wasn’t his usual happy, smug, or amused laughter. It was an abated sound. Helpless. As if he’d just received a punch. Or bad news.

I frowned. Then the glass was out of my grasp in one gentle swipe of his hand. Then there was a weight on my waist. His hand. He pulled me forward. Right against him. Warmth erupted from the point where our chests now touched, spreading across my body. There was a quick, brisk rumble in his rib cage. I felt it on my breasts.

“You need to stop that,” he said, that huskiness surfacing once more.

My voice was nothing but a whisper. “Stop what?”

“Blowing me away like that,” he answered immediately. I felt his palm splay across the small of my back. My body swayed in response. “You set rules and then make it impossible for me to follow them. Why?”

There it was again, that command in his voice. That rough… softness, if that could ever be a thing. “Rules are important,” I told him, swallowing around the need to bring my hands to his chest and pull him closer. “They’re not that hard to follow. You yourself made one.”

“Part your lips,” he said. And when I didn’t, his hand moved up my body, reaching my face, cupping my jaw. “Everyone’s watching us, Josie.” His thumb brushed at my skin, grazing the corner of my mouth. “Seeing how I’ve blindfolded you in a sad excuse to spare you the sight of how I look right now.”

My throat worked. Everyone’s watching us, Josie. I could indulge in that. We could. “And how is that?”

“Like I want to throw you over my shoulder and run,” he said, voice low, just for me. He swiped at my bottom lip. “Like I want to drag my fiancée to that gazebo in the back and fuck the anxiety out of her.”

All the blood in my body swooshed to my feet. And the only reason I didn’t slip to the ground was Matthew’s body against mine.

“Now, part those lips, Baby Blue,” Matthew ordered. “I’m bringing a glass to your mouth.”

Ever so gently he did. Letting me go through the motions—smell, wet my lips, taste—although my brain was screaming at me to stop that and let him drag me to that gazebo. Drag him myself. All I wanted was to taste him, not the wine. Blindfolded was fine. Just this once. Just this once? “Chambourcin,” I said. Voice almost gone. “You skipped two wines. No. You skipped three. You—”

“I’m impatient.” His words sounded so strained, so very tense, that I wanted to take the handkerchief off my eyes. See him. Was that pain? Need? The urge I felt pooling down my body in overwhelming waves? “Greedy, too.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not.” And I felt it in the air that left him, the way he was ready to argue that, or distract me away from the point. “You’re the opposite of those two things.”

Warmth engulfed my waist, and then my hips were pushed against his. A breath hitched in my throat. He brushed his nose against mine before dragging it across my cheek, until it was deep in my hair. “Maybe I should kiss you, then,” Matthew whispered in my ear. “If I’m not that impatient and not at all greedy.”

My whole body shook. So much that I clasped his arms with my hands. I tried to make sense of this. I was blindfolded. In the middle of a party. Turned on like I had no business being. Pressed against Matthew’s hips. I wanted to squirm. Search for more. Chase the feeling making my belly tight. I… I wanted him to kiss me. “If everyone’s really watching.”

He huffed out one of those strange laughs, his hold starting to loosen, as if I’d said the wrong thing.

I fisted the fabric of his shirt, stopping him before he could move away. “Maybe you should kiss me, then.” He went still against me. “Maybe it’s what my fiancé would do.”

“Take the blindfold off,” Matthew said. Barked. His fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. “I want you to look at me.”

All that need and anticipation, and yes, urgency, rioting inside me came to a halt. Everything paused as I dragged the silky handkerchief down my face, letting it pool at my neck.

There was thunder in Matthew’s eyes. The brown behind the glasses I loved so much mingled with an emotion I swore I could feel swirling deep in my gut. Lower, too. He looked so on the edge, so absolutely on the verge of doing what he’d been stopping himself from doing. Was that kissing me? He could. It looked like he would. I wanted him to. Now. So badly.

“If you don’t wipe that please, Matthew smile off your mouth, I swear I’m going to kiss it away myself, Josie.”

His words made my ears ring. A sense of triumph tightened my chest, making me blind. Forgetful. Careless. God, yes. Matthew’s mouth. On mine.

Matthew’s gaze dipped, desperately returning to mine. I was still smiling. Then his hands were climbing up my spine, the roughness in the motion making everything in me rise, thicken. Where were we? What were we doing? I didn’t care. My chest heaved, and I moved into him, as if I could cling to him, speed things up. Matthew’s grunt was brief but telling, making me grow even more impatient, coming even closer. I felt him at my belly, hard. My breath caught. I—

A throat was cleared.

Loudly.

And whatever bubble we’d been in burst.

“Go. Away. Shark,” Matthew said, eyes on me, voice hoarse.

“Believe me,” Bobbi answered. “I wish I could. Because PDA I can deal with. But you crossed that line a while ago. You’re… edging each other with wine and blindfolds. And I wouldn’t mind watching if we didn’t have something of an emergency on our hands.”

Matthew’s nostrils flared, unwavering brown eyes not leaving me. I knew how that felt. I couldn’t look away myself, as if those minutes without the sight of him had me greedy for his face.

“Still not interested,” Matthew said, his jaw now bunching up.

“I don’t care,” Bobbi answered. “Because that senator wannabe, Josephine’s ex, is here. And we’re going to have to deal with that.”

My head spun then.

Reality finally seeped in.

“Duncan’s here?”

The one man I had once been sure I’d marry materialized in the distance.

My brain threw a memory at me. Blue dress shirt tucked in jeans, suit jacket hanging off wide shoulders. All of it paired with brown loafers. Turning around and walking away. Slipping through the door.

He’d been dressed a lot like he was right now, standing at the edge of the garden, talking to Andrew. I remembered looking at a loose thread on the shoulder of his jacket that day, as he told me that he couldn’t do it.

That he couldn’t marry me.

He’d been so polite about it, so nice. Even smiled encouragingly, as if saying don’t worry, honey. You’ll get over me. Ever the Southern gentleman, Duncan. Born and raised in Charleston. I always wondered what brought him to North Carolina during that time we were engaged. What would have tied him here. Couldn’t have been me.

“Josie, sweetheart.”

Those two words, uttered with a cadence I was starting to crave, pulled me back to the present.

“I’m over him,” I heard myself say. Warmth rose to my cheeks. Or perhaps it had been already there. Matthew tipped my chin in the direction of his face. Brown eyes met mine. A handsome face. I’d been about to kiss him, and it had nothing to do with where we were, or who we pretended to be. “I’m not just saying this to reassure anyone. I’m over him. And I wanted you to know that.”

“I believe you,” he said. And I knew he did. “Is he over you, though?”

I scoffed. But it wasn’t with outrage or disbelief. “He left me.”

Something registered on Matthew’s face, quick and subtle. Understanding? Surprise? No. It was none of those things.

“Ah, hello?” Bobbi said from our side. “I’m still here. And you’re still ignoring me. I shouldn’t be ignored right now.”

Matthew set his jaw. He seemed to make a decision. “We know you’re still there, Shark.” He stepped away from me, leaving me all… unbalanced and cold. I wish we could go back in time. Have that blindfold back on. Push for that kiss when I could. “You’re making yourself impossible to ignore.” My hand was clasped. Fingers interlaced. “What’s the real problem? Can’t be just him.”

“You assume right,” Bobbi answered. She moved closer to me, hands reaching out in the direction of my head. Matthew didn’t let go of my hand. “He hasn’t come alone,” she explained, gently but nimbly rearranging my hair. “There’s an entourage of sorts.” Her fingers fumbled with the handkerchief loosely dangling off my neck. She turned it, tightened it slightly. Made what I supposed was a knot. Her head leaned back, dark eyes assessing. “It’ll do.” She met my gaze. “And you will too. Whatever you do, don’t let him break you.”

Her words caught me so off guard that I stumbled for something to say. “What—”

“Does it mean?” Bobbi finished for me. “It means you two approach him while he poaches your father for God knows what. You say hi. Let Blondie scowl at him like he wants to do bodily harm but won’t. Just like he is looking at him now, but a little less teeth, maybe. Meanwhile, I deal with the cameras he showed up with. They all slipped past security somehow.”

“You had security for this? Here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know who your father is?” A sigh. “Hired locally, though. Too friendly and trusting. They are now fired and— You’re distracting me, Josephine. Security is not my job. You are.” Her expression hardened. “So you go there, and I handle the press. I’m extremely unhappy about this. I’m not wearing the right shoes to make anyone cry today but—”

“He won’t let you,” I said. Matthew let out a concerned grunt from my side, the hold of his hand tightening. Bobbi’s brows arched. “No. You don’t understand. I’m not saying he’ll do anything, but he’ll turn it around. Duncan is— Let the press stay. It’ll be worse if you kick them out. He’ll manage to make himself look like the victim here.”

Bobbi huffed, but I could see understanding starting to seep in. “I’m not about to throw a hapless client into this.”

“I’m not hapless,” I countered. “I… know him, all right? He’s here for a reason. And the press, too. He’ll spin it against us if he doesn’t get away with it. I can handle this.” I swallowed. “I have Matthew. Let the press stay.”

Bobbi looked like that was the last thing she wanted to do. “Okay, let’s go. But I’ll contain them. I say when and where a flash goes off.”

Matthew tugged at my arm, moving us forward. He arranged his body around mine, the curve of my shoulder locking into place against his side, his right arm snaking around my back, his left hand grasping my wrist and bringing my palm to his stomach. It was scary how safe I felt. How confident I grew with every step I took in his embrace. How right he felt against me.

“I’m over him,” I repeated, just for him. It seemed important that he knew.

His answer was immediate. “I know you are.”

“It hurt me when he broke the engagement. But it didn’t break my heart as much as it hurt my pride. He made me feel like I wasn’t worth it. Worth the trouble.”

There was a miss in Matthew’s step, as if a part of him had wanted to stop, but the rest was determined to move forward. “Give me a safe word.”

I glanced up, finding his profile. “Did Bobbi also tell you we should have one?” He gave a nod, bending his lips in a smile. But it was a weird one. Odd. A little scary, too. It wasn’t like Matthew, and I wanted to change that. Make it more like himself. Handsome. Nice. Happy. “Bootylicious. And if you don’t relax, I’ll break into song. Start rapping. Popping. Locking. I know how to.”

Some of the tension around his mouth eased. His gaze flickered down, meeting mine with a brow arched. I summoned a smile of my own, and I was as surprised as I was relieved to see how easy it was.

His throat bobbed. “If we weren’t currently making our way toward your father and your ex, and they hadn’t already seen us, I’d turn us around right now.” His eyes returned forward. Mine didn’t. “I should have taken you to that fucking gazebo when I had my chance.”

My pulse thrummed. “You say that like my going with you was a given,” I lied. I would have gone, no questions asked. I was pretty sure Matthew knew. “I might consider it, after this. I could use some distraction.”

My words were teasing, referring to Matthew’s new rule. I distract you, from whatever’s bothering you. Whatever’s making you doubt who you really are and what we’re doing. And they had the effect I expected, because his mouth finally relaxed. He smiled. Proudly. Smugly. It made that thrumming double.

I looked forward, then. Out of pure survival, because I really wanted to see that glint in his eye. Tonight had unlocked… something that I realized I’d done a poor job at containing. But we were mere steps away from them. Andrew and Duncan. They hadn’t so much as acknowledged our approach. They were too deep in a conversation that looked more important than whatever was happening around them. It was in the stern set of both their profiles while they talked and nodded. I used to call it the sober muttering. And it was always done at parties like this one, always by groups of men.

I’d been so ready to marry right into that, I thought. Parties like these. Watching stern-looking men having stern-looking conversations while I fluttered around the grass in a pretty dress, introducing myself as Mrs. Someone. It didn’t seem like something I wanted now. It didn’t seem like something I wanted, period.

Matthew’s head dipped as we came to a stop, and I felt his mouth press over the skin on my temple before brushing my ear. “He has five minutes.”

I couldn’t know if he meant Andrew or Duncan. I couldn’t know what would happen after those five minutes either, but the tug at my lower belly told me it had to do with the gazebo.

“Josephine,” the two men said at the same time.

Duncan laughed lightly. Andrew gave a tight smile.

Matthew’s hand climbed up my spine, fingers slipping into my hair. He brushed the back of my neck with his thumb. Encouraging. Distracting.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, ah, for not making our way here before,” I told them, assembling my face into a polite, friendly, happy mask. I’d done this a hundred times. “We were a little caught up in the moment.” I glanced to my side. Matthew smiled. “Matthew, this is Duncan Aguirre.” My eyes returned to the other man. “Duncan, this is Matthew Flanagan.” I swallowed. “My fiancé.”

Matthew let out a hum that to anyone else would seem pleasant agreement. But I knew it wasn’t, not when he accompanied it with another happy brush of his thumb. It felt like a promise of a reward. One that I had no business wanting when—

Duncan stretched his hand in Matthew’s direction. “It’s a pleasure, Matthew.”

Matthew stared back at Duncan for one, two, three seconds. Letting him wait, with his arm in the air. “Oh,” he said in an easy, surprised tone, making a show out of glancing down at Duncan’s offering. “Sorry, Duncan,” he said, finally taking it. “I didn’t see that there. Nice to meet you too. I would love to pretend I haven’t heard anything about you, but I’m a little better than that.”

Duncan’s frown came as quickly as he batted it away. “Congratulations on the engagement. To both of you.” He retrieved his hand and let it fall to his side. “Can’t say I am surprised to see Josie being snatched away so quickly. She’s a great catch, as tricky as the catch is.”

“I am, if nothing else, persistent.” Matthew said. “Some say like a dog with a bone. Once I decide something’s mine, there’s no stopping me.”

Was there malice in my ex’s words? Maybe.

But I didn’t find it in me to care. Not when Matthew had just said that mine, and not when his thumb skipped up and down the back of my neck like that.

“The wine is excellent,” I expelled with a breath. “Andrew was so generous. With everything, really. But this party takes the cake so far.” I met my father’s eyes. “The estate is gorgeous, and I’m sure it makes you miss Florida a little less?”

There was a moment of silence before my father spoke. “It’s not a problem,” he said. Curtly. Just like he always did. “Duncan was just telling me about a similar property one of his friends owns. Not far from here, in fact.”

I blinked at my father, trying to make sense of what that meant. Or waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

“The wedding preparations are going great,” Matthew offered, and I knew from his voice he was smiling at the two men. I knew what smile he was using, too. “Just pointing it out in case you were wondering, Andrew. I’m not sure I recall you personally checking in and I can’t be sure of what Bobbi reports.” My father’s expression strained. Matthew continued, his tone easy, casual, “We’re a little stressed with the time crunch, but hey, it won’t be me who’s complaining about that. I am marrying the woman of my dreams sooner than I expected, after all.”

And that was when my jaw dropped. Just momentarily. Just enough for the air to leave my lungs and my head to turn to look at my fiancé.

Matthew winked at me. As if he’d said nothing.

I swallowed, pacing myself. Right. Yes. We don’t get married but stay friends. “Money is a great help, though,” I said. “Money buys great wine, for one. Have you tried the merlot? It’s from a winery in the South Mountains and they age it in oak.”

“We could hire a proper wedding planner,” Andrew offered. “Besides Bobbi. You don’t need to stress about the small things. And if you are, then you should let me know. Or Bobbi, or my assistant, who’s also around.”

“Or you could have asked us,” Matthew countered. Simply. Nicely, even. Matter-of-fact. “At any point today, or any other time before this instant that I’ve brought it up myself.”

It only hit me then that Andrew hadn’t done that. Asked us. Asked me. And I hadn’t expected him to. Not about the wedding, and not about how I was doing after the video came out.

“Cut them some slack, Andrew,” Duncan said with a laugh, as if they were old friends. As if this was not my father whom he had just met. “These things are a nightmare. There’s no bliss until the day all is said and done, so of course the man here is somewhat on edge.” He directed that smile at us. Or perhaps, not really. Duncan had always seemed to gaze a little above my head. “Relax, Matthew. I don’t think this one’s going to slip between your fingers. She’s clearly smitten.”

Matthew’s whole body stiffened against mine.

Just at the same time, I could see out of the corner of my eye, the entourage that Bobbi had mentioned assembled like a hive. It was a small group, but the cloud of cameras and electronics started moving behind Andrew and Duncan, devices buzzing, shifting closer.

A leather trench coat crowned by a blond bob popped into view, right in front of them. She stretched an arm, pointy black nails shining under one of the many garden lamps. I started breathing a little easier. Bobbi had this under control. Of course she did. She— The press hive swarmed her. Oh God, was she okay?

I tugged at Matthew’s shirt. “Matt—”

A flash blinded me. I blinked, trying to make my eyes work. My vision flickered, but just as I started making sense of what was behind the buzz surrounding us, another bright, blinding light went off. Then another. Pop. Pop, pop, pop. Something moved in front of me. Someone. Matthew, because he was no longer at my side.

“Put that down,” I heard him bark. And oh boy, he sounded so… angry. So absolutely unlike himself. This wasn’t the plan. This hadn’t been. I blinked the stars away, his back coming into focus with a realization, I’d miscalculated the situation. Matthew’s words were calm. Low. “Put. That. Camera. Down.”

I tried to move around him, but he stretched out an arm, stopping me. I peeked over it, watching Duncan approach, smiling. Relaxed. As if born for this. As if ready to collect some reward, even with a visibly annoyed Andrew by his side.

“Come on, gentlemen,” Duncan said. Easy. Ever the Southern gentleman. Talking to Andrew and Matthew and disregarding me. “There’s no reason to get all tense and stiff. This is a party. A great one, at that. I thought some of the local outlets would benefit from a little spice. It’s not every day that Andrew Underwood visits. And we also have somewhat of a celebrity on our hands now. I’m sure she’ll have her moment, too.” He turned toward Andrew. “Now, let’s take a picture together, Andrew. If you don’t mind, of course. Then we can pick up our conversation somewhere else, away from curious eyes and ears.”

I knew in that exact moment what Duncan was doing here.

“Andrew,” I warned. And I didn’t know what got into me, or why I said what I did, but the words left me before I could stop them. “Let’s go back to the bar. The merlot really is excellent. We should try it.”

Andrew frowned for a second. Duncan stepped closer to him, his arm already pointing at the spot where they should pose. My father hesitated for a long moment, and I really didn’t want to, but I held my breath as I smiled at him. Trust me, I wanted to tell him with that smile. Duncan just wants to take advantage of you, your status, your name, your money, probably. I didn’t. I just…

“Later,” my father said.

Something in my chest halted. Fell. Or maybe all of me did. “Of course,” I said with a chuckle meant to be light. Reassuring.

But Andrew didn’t need my reassurance. He had already turned around.

I felt so dumb in that moment. So dumb and tiny.

It was laughable really, that I thought he’d somehow choose a glass of merlot over Duncan. Choose me over him. It was also laughable that a part of me had thought for an instant—even if short—that Duncan would be here for me. Of course he wasn’t. Both Matthew and Bobbi had been so wrong to assume that. Duncan was here for my father. An endorsement? A photo op? Some of that somber muttering they both were so good at? God knew. I could all but picture the way his office must have somehow gotten ahold of someone and landed an invitation to this. We used to joke about that. How he could walk into a party and make it his. How his mama had raised him better than that, but good boys didn’t get far without a trick up their sleeve.

The trick wasn’t me. It never had been and it wasn’t now. And my father seemed to agree.

“Josie?” Matthew asked.

I angled my body toward him but kept my gaze somewhere else. His shoulder. I smiled, hoping he wasn’t realizing where my head had gone. I hoped he couldn’t see how insignificant I was feeling and how much I hated that any of it was affecting me. But Matthew always managed to see a little more than I liked him to.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and who was I to deny that? His expression was grim. His body exuding the kind of tension I didn’t like. Coming off him in waves.

“Hey,” I said, my eyes were stinging, and God, I hated that. “Should we go check out that gazebo? You promised me.”

Matthew’s face filled with something that told me that was off the table now. His lips parted, and I hoped it wasn’t a no, because I didn’t think I’d be able to take it. “I’m—”

A new flash went off.

Right in both our faces. I flinched, and when my vision returned, Matthew was cursing, shoulders turning around. I panicked. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t want him to be angry over this. Do something he’d regret, like snatching away that camera that had been way too close to us. It wasn’t worth it.

It really wasn’t. Not for this. Not for me.

My hands closed around his arms.

Matthew’s gaze bounced back to me, but not his attention. Not completely. That flash went off again, and his expression turned furious. He was really going after that camera. So I did the only thing I could think of to stop him.

I kissed my fiancé.