11. Not Cool
NOT COOL
CHELSEA
“There you are.”
I haven’t made it three steps into the party before Shanna appears beside me.
“What happened to your hair?”
My hand lifts to finger a lock of it against my will.
Way to be subtle, me.
“Nothing. Nothing happened to my hair.”
“I watched you put it up,” Shanna reminds me.
No one will notice, huh? I shouldn’t have listened to Brett.
Or dragged Brett off to an alcove.
Or made out with Brett up against the wall.
Or on the floor.
“It was giving me a headache.”
Shanna’s not buying it. “You’re acting weird tonight.”
“No, I’m not.” Or at least I wouldn’t be, if I could just stop my compulsive door watching in anticipation of a certain tall-dark-and-tempting’s imminent return to the ballroom.
Focus.
“Then why are you hiding out over here by the dessert table?”
“I’m not hiding out. I’m... assessing product consumption,” I counter. “The tarts aren’t moving. We should definitely adjust our catering order for casino night.”
“You’re right. You should probably make a note of that.” The beat of silence she leaves strikes chills down my spine. “But you can’t. Because for the first time in history, you and this clipboard have been separated for almost thirty minutes!”
Thirty gloriously sexy minutes.
I make a grab for the clipboard, but Shanna pulls it out of reach at the last second.
“We’ve been friends since kindergarten. You think I don’t know when you’re being weird? Now tell me everything, or the clipboard gets it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Just say it. “He’s here.”
I crack an eye open, checking Shanna’s reaction. Her eyebrows have disappeared beneath her bangs.
“He? He who?”
Opening my other eye, I exhale, beaten. “My one-night stand.”
“What?” Shanna’s gasp draws the attention of a couple of older ladies debating the merits of indulging in the lemon tarts, and I smile apologetically and tug my friend away from the food, to the wall near the doorway.
“He’s here? Oh my God! You told me you didn’t know him!”
I capitalize on her shock to steal my clipboard back.
“I didn’t know him.” And it was supposed to have stayed that way. Not culminate in Round Two: Alcove Shenanigans.
“But all these people are long term donors. They’ve all been to a million of these things.
Oh my God! Did you sleep with one of the catering people?
Is it the guy with the bacon-wrapped scallops?
” Shanna’s expression grows contemplative.
“Because he is sort of hot in a leave-the-bowtie-on kind of way and—”
“I slept with the new guy.”
There. It’s out. My secret isn’t secret anymore. And it isn’t so bad.
It’s better having things out in the op—
“Wait, what?”
I’ve never heard Shanna shriek before. I pull her deeper into the corner.
“Oh my God!” She wrings her hands. “Okay, wait. Are you, or are you not, telling me that eggplant-emoji-thumbs-up-emoji is Brett Sillinger?”
Unlike me, Shanna regularly watches hockey.
“Yes. And I’m trying to only tell you, so keep your voice down, okay? Also, please stop saying Oh my God so much. It’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s a massive deal. It’s a six-foot, two-hundred-pounds-worth of muscle deal.”
Of course, Shanna would know stats like that. Analytical to the end.
“What are you going to do? I mean, are you happy to see him?”
Happy isn’t the first adjective that comes to mind. Desperate for skin-to-skin contact, on the other hand…
“But you’re sort of technically co-workers. Is it awkward?”
The observation snaps me out of my lusty flashbacks. “We’re not co-workers.”
“I mean, kind of. Like, co-workers once removed. He’s on the team. You coordinate fundraising and community outreach events for the team. Did you talk to him? What did he say? Oh my G—”
Shanna catches herself when I shoot her a dark look.
“Your dad would freak out if he knew. I know, and I’m freaking out. How are you? Are you freaking out?”
“I was doing better before I told you, that’s for sure.” I glance around the ballroom. Still no sign of Brett. I don’t like not knowing where he is. It makes me nervous.
Shanna takes a couple of deep breaths. “Okay, you’re right. Damage is done. We just move forward and treat this like any other party-planning snafu. We come up with a plan and we execute.” She’s blessedly quiet for a beat. Then, “What do we do?”
“We just play it cool.” No big deal.
“Yeah. We play it cool.” Shanna agrees. “I like it. I see where you’re going with this. Just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re not cool. We are the antithesis of cool.”
I can’t hold back a snort of laughter despite my agitated state. Sharing a smile with Shanna is the most normal I’ve felt all evening. The dissipation of tension is exactly what I need.
But fate has other plans, because when Shanna sighs a dreamy kind of sigh, it prickles along the back of my neck.
Of course it’s Brett, striding through the party like he owns the room.
And there’s that good sex ache. Bam. Pow. Right in the ovaries.
“He’s so hot.”
The butterflies in my stomach riot at her assessment as he joins a knot of Wolfpack players who’ve congregated on the far side of the bar. “He is. But it was a one-time thing.” A one-and-a-half time thing, I amend, in deference to the alcove.
“Of course, it was. I mean, it has to be. Aside from the weird thing where your dad is his boss, and kind of your boss, he’s totally not your type.”
I stiffen at the forthright summation.
Not my type? What makes him not my type?
The fact that he’s ruggedly sexy?
Full of swagger?
Has a bad boy reputation?
My shoulders sag.
More like D, all of the above.
So what if Brett isn’t my usual type? He makes me laugh. He turns me on.
Hell, I’d actually orgasmed with him, deep in—
“What are you ladies whispering about over here?”
My father’s booming voice stiffens my spine.
“Hey Mr. L. Great speech up there. Chelsea and I were just... uh, making some notes about the dessert order for casino night.”
Dad thanks Shanna, but his shrewd gaze lands on me.
“What happened to your hair?”
Again, my stupid hand comes up, tugging on a lock of it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“It was up before.”
Is that an accusation I hear in his voice? Or just my guilty conscience?
“Oh. Right. Chelsea was just saying it was giving her a headache. So she took it down. Isn’t this a great party? I think Chelsea outdid herself.”
“She did.” There’s no chance for the warmth the compliment inspires to seep through my chest before Dad raises a brow. “In fact, I was going to call you up on stage to mention it after I announced your brother’s promotion, but I didn’t see you.”
“I was... busy. Dealing with... something.”
Do not blush. Do. Not. Blush.
“Have either of you seen Brett Sillinger?”
The question freezes my blood. And despite my earlier vow to be at least a little cool, my attention homes in on Brett at the exact moment that he turns his head, as though he’s looking for me, too. That connection arcs between us like a lightning strike.
“Who, us? Nope, we definitely haven’t seen him. Have we, Chelsea?”
Shanna elbows me in the ribs, snapping my attention back to my father.
“Um, what? Brett? The new guy you mean? I don’t... no, not recently or anything. Why?”
Apparently, Shanna was right on the mark earlier. We are definitely not cool.
“Just haven’t seen him in a while. Not since before the announcement. I wanted to make sure he’s behaving himself.”
I swallow, remembering his hands on my body. The gut-punch of a kiss we’d shared before he sent me back to the party. How the restlessness in my limbs makes me kind of wish he hadn’t behaved quite so much.
Against my will, I remember something even more dangerous.
I’m sorry about the promotion. That really sucks.
“Oh! There he is.” Shanna’s voice is too loud as she points at him, making it obvious that we’ve been aware of his exact location the entire time. “I just noticed him,” she lies. “Over there.”
And the award for worst actress in a sex cover-up goes to…
My father doesn’t look, despite Shanna’s desperate pointing. His eyes stay fixed on me.
“Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to go say a few words to Brett. I like to touch base with all my employees during these events. See how they are, what they’ve been up to.”
I sag back against the wall as my dad strides across the ballroom toward Brett.
In the clear. For now.