Chapter 6
Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
—The Dalai Lama
Fable
“My dad is blowing up my phone,” Drew calls from the living room. “Are you ready yet? They’re threatening to leave without us if we’re not ready to go by six thirty.”
Holy crap! My hands are shaking as I finish putting on mascara and I’m afraid I’ll stab my eye out.
Drew’s constant reminders that his parents are waiting don’t help.
I have never been so nervous about how I look in all my life.
Not even when I attended my junior and senior proms and spent hours getting ready.
Saving all my money to buy the cheap dress from JC Penney, thinking I looked all hot when I probably looked like a little girl playing dress-up.
Now here I stand in a dress, shoes, and miscellaneous accessories that cost almost one thousand dollars.
Drew didn’t protest when Kaylie rattled off the total after she rang us up.
He merely handed over his credit card without a word, though she was quick to give me a shitty little look at the end of the transaction.
I really hope that witch isn’t there at this country club thing tonight. It’s going to be miserable enough without her adding to it.
“Fable.” Drew raps on the bathroom door so hard it swings open and thank God I’m not standing there naked, though he knows I’m not, so I’m freaking out over nothing.
He’s standing in the doorway, looking outrageously gorgeous in black pants and a silvery-gray button-down shirt and black tie.
My mouth dries up as I stare at him in the reflection of the mirror and he returns the same stare.
His eyes are wide, drinking me in, sliding down the length of my body, and I feel his gaze as if he’s actually touching me.
“Uh, are you ready?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Give me two more minutes.” I yank my gaze away from his and dig through my makeup bag, pulling out a pale pink lip gloss. I open it and slick it on, rubbing my lips together as I assess myself in the mirror.
I wore my hair up to show off the back of the dress, a few little wisps hanging around my face.
I gave myself dark smoky eyes, rosy cheeks, and pale lips, going for an understated look.
The dress is perfection—I can’t believe how I look in it—and the shoes I’m wearing are daringly high.
So high, I probably hit at about Drew’s shoulder.
Hopefully I won’t fall on my butt when I walk.
The sparkly earrings and matching chunky rhinestone bracelet complete the outfit.
I almost feel overdressed, but Drew’s not complaining so neither am I.
I’m still worried about his opinion, though, and I focus on zipping my makeup bag closed.
Hopefully he thinks I look good. I think he looks gorgeous, but when does he not?
The guy could wear a paper bag around his privates and make it look designer.
I called Owen’s friend’s mom earlier and she reassured me Owen was there with them staying the night, so I feel good about that. I tried to call my mom, but no answer. I sent her a quick text letting her know I was all right.
Still no reply. She’s probably hanging out with her flavor of the month and doesn’t have time for me.
Squaring my shoulders, I turn to face Drew.
He’s got his hands propped against the top of the doorway and he’s sort of leaning into the bathroom, his shirt stretching across his chest, emphasizing his sheer size.
I can smell his cologne, a clean, citrusy scent that smells so good, I want to push my face into his neck and sniff him there.
Maybe even lick his skin and see what he tastes like…
My thoughts are getting so out of hand and we still have way too many days left. I’m going to be a complete mess by the time Thanksgiving rolls around.
You can handle this. He’s just a guy. And they don’t mean anything to you.
“Ready?” he asks me after I stand there silently for probably too long.
Nodding, I hold out my cell phone. “I have nowhere to put this. The purse I brought is huge, and no way would it look good with my outfit.”
His full lips curl in the faintest smile. “Do you have to take it with you? You can leave it here. We’ll only be gone for a few hours, tops.”
“Well…” My voice trails off. A few hours is too long for me to be without my cell. “I do. What if my brother calls and needs help? Or my mom?”
His gaze softens, fills with understanding. “Can you put it in your—bra?”
I actually giggle. And I never giggle. “I’m surprised you know that old bar trick.” I sober up. “I can’t. I’m not wearing one.”
He looks like he just swallowed his tongue. Just saying that was worth his reaction alone. “I can keep it in my pocket if you want.”
“Really? Thanks. I appreciate it.” I set the phone on vibrate and hand it over, our fingers brushing. Electricity shoots up my arm, and I rub at it absently while I watch Drew slip my phone into his pocket.
“Let’s go. We’ll meet them outside by the car.”
I follow him out of the guesthouse toward the giant four-car garage. These people live in such excess, it’s staggering. “We’re going to ride with them?”
“My dad insists.” He doesn’t look too pleased, which reassures me. I don’t want to ride with them either. “I guess we could take advantage and get shit-faced drunk if we want.”
I’ve seen him at La Salle’s plenty of times. “I’ve never seen you drunk. From what you’ve told me, I figure you don’t like to get out of control. To me, getting drunk equals out of control.”
He glances over at me. “You’re right. Guess you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not quite,” I murmur as we reach the garage. I wish I did, but he’s holding his secrets extra close.
“Aren’t you bringing a coat?”
I shake my head, hold back the gasp that wants to escape when he scoops up my hand with his. My reaction to him is so ridiculous, and I really need to learn how to control it. Everything between us isn’t real and I have to remember that. No matter how good it feels.
And my fingers entwined with his feels really, really good.
“You’re going to get cold,” he says as we stop in front of the garage and wait for his parents. A hint of satisfaction rolls through me because after they nagged at us from the moment we arrived home, now we’re the ones waiting for them.
“Maybe you’ll keep me warm?” With a smile aimed directly at him, I nudge his upper arm with my shoulder, marveling at his rock-hard biceps.
I’ve been hoping to catch a glimpse of him with his shirt off, but it hasn’t happened yet.
I know beneath the clothes he’s built like a god, and I want to see all that muscly goodness.
He lifts a brow. I really love it when he does that. “Are you flirting with me?”
I’m about to flirt some more when his parents appear, the two of them walking hurriedly toward us as one of the garage doors opens, revealing a gorgeous black Range Rover parked within.
I try to act all nonchalant as we approach the car, Drew opening the door for me so I can slip into the backseat first. I don’t expect him to slide in after me, and I swear I feel his fingers tickle the back of my thigh for the briefest second.
But when we settle in our seats, his expression is completely neutral, so I figure I imagined it.
His parents aren’t really talking and that makes me uneasy.
I wonder if they had a fight. Or if they’re still pissed because I took too long.
Drew reassured me earlier that the dinner didn’t start until seven, so even now we still have a half hour.
But maybe they like to be early and snag a good table. Crap, I don’t know!
I’m going into this blind and I’m nervous.
Drew reaches out and grabs hold of my hand again and when I look up at him, he smiles at me in the darkness.
I have this sudden sense that it’s the two of us against the world.
We’re in this together and we have to depend on each other to get through it.
I know that sounds completely dramatic and silly, but I can’t help the way I feel.
I also can’t help but stare at him for a little too long, marveling at the masculine beauty of his face. It’s so unfair when people are so sickeningly good-looking, and that’s Drew. He should disgust me he’s so gorgeous.
Instead he makes me feel all swoony and stupid. Like my head is getting lighter from all the brain cells evaporating the longer I look at him, and I wonder if he can feel me staring.
When he turns to meet my gaze, I know he feels me staring. He smiles, the sight of it reassuring my nervous, racing heart, and I blurt out the first question I can think of. “What does the D stand for?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “What D?”
“Your middle name. You’re Andrew D. Callahan.” I pause, hoping his parents aren’t listening to us. His dad is backing the car out of the garage and Adele is murmuring something to him, but I can’t make out what.
“Ah.” He nods, as if he knows an age-old mystery. “What do you think it stands for?”
Hmm, he’s acting kind of flirtatious, too. I like it. Makes the moment lighter, especially with the tension-filled drama going on in the front seat. “Dumbledore?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “No.”
I tap my index finger against my chin. “Daniel.”
“Nope.”
“Dylan.”
“Huh. That goes with the whole Callahan Irish theme, but wrong guess.”
I go through a few other D choices, all of them ridiculous, when I finally hit on the right one.
“David,” I whisper.
His smile grows. “You finally got it.”
“Do I win a prize?” I return his smile.
“Sure,” he says easily. “What do you want?”
“You’re asking me? Shouldn’t you determine the prize?”
“You can have whatever you want.” He skitters his thumb across the palm of my hand, sending a flurry of shivers across my skin. “Name it and it’s yours.”