11. Eleven #4
At that, his eyes shine with mirth. “Just like you,” he says, and I realize it’s the second time he’s pointed this part of my personality out. The noticing sends warmth right back into my blood.
“Tell you what,” he starts, shifting as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let’s just say you’re with me.”
My stomach drops. “Pardon?” I ask, brows furrowing.
“If this guy is as awful as you said, it might help to have a buffer of some sort.” Wes winces at his own words. “What if we just pretend we are together. Then you don’t have to worry about whatever made you dread seeing that guy so much, and we can—”
“Cassidy?”
I spin, Chad’s voice sliding down my spine like nails on a chalkboard.
“Chandler!” I say, injecting some of the bright and sunny Wes seems to see in me. Though this kind seems undoubtedly forced. Just call me a vitamin D lamp. “What a surprise to see you here!”
Chad’s eyes flick to Wes, and the girl at his arm leans in closer to him. Her chocolate-brown hair looks a touch too styled for this event, and though she’s wearing jeans and a flowy, cream blouse, I can’t help but notice the way her satin heels sink into the dirt.
She’s probably not used to being dragged out to a bonfire and is more accustomed to yachts and social dinners at the club Chad owns. They might, very well, be perfect for each other. I can’t believe there was ever a time I thought this man and I would have been a good fit.
“Well,” Chad says, puffing his chest out. “I saw a new business opening in town, and you know how I am, Cassidy. Got to get a foot in the door wherever it may benefit you.”
Unfortunately, I do know how he is. He’s practically a vampire with how much he feeds off of others—always looking out for himself and his endeavors.
When we’d dated, every outing felt like an opportunity to show me off to the world.
His gaze somehow always flicked from corner to corner in the rooms we’d stand—searching for whoever would value the look of a pretty girl on his arm and consider Chandler a good investment.
It was almost dehumanizing to be considered so little in the bigger picture of his life.
I’m considered more at Ellis’s favorite coffee shop when they ask me for my name and write it spelled incorrectly on the cup.
“Right,” I say, hating myself for not realizing how snake-like the man was—still is.
The girl releases him, giving one glimmering look in his direction before offering me her hand. “Jera,” she says. “And you are?”
“Cass,” I answer. “Chandler’s ex.”
Her face falls as Chad shifts uncomfortably, and something about that brings me a slight beam of happiness. “Since we’re making introductions,” Chad barrels on, extending a hand to Wes. “Chandler Hayes. But you can call me Chad.”
Wes takes one look at the hand stretched out to him and doesn’t move to take it. “Wesley Miller,” he answers.
“Of Miller Run Farm?” Chad snatches his hand back, swiping it across the front of his shirt as if he were straightening it.
Surprising, considering his shirt looks just as botoxed as his face in this lighting.
“My buddies buy race horses from you guys on occasion. Quite a humble operation you have going. Good horses, though. What brings you to this event in particular? A bed and breakfast seems out of your wheelhouse.”
The subtle insults grate on me. Maybe Wes is in need of the buffer.
“I—”
I cut him off. “He’s here with me!” I smile up at my boss, noting the way his jaw ticks as he holds back a smirk. My hand wraps around his bicep, and this time I take a second to relish in the warmth of it. It sends a jolt all the way down my arm. “Wanted to support his fiancé’s friend, I suppose.”
Chad looks taken aback, and I hate to admit how satisfying it is. “Fiancé?” he questions, surprise morphing with bridled rage. I don’t miss the way he looks for a ring. Instead of hiding it, I hold my hand up, acknowledging the way he looked instead of skirting past it.
“Farm life,” I supply. “Can’t let that giant rock go missing. He spent way too much money on it, didn’t you, Cowboy?”
Wes’s grin is devious. “All worth it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hayes,” Wes turns to Jera. “Be careful with this one. I hear he gets passed around more than a bucket of popcorn at the theater.”
And with that, Wes ushers me away as harsh whispers are exchanged behind us.
As we walk back toward the house, Wes leans in close, his whisper brushing the shell of my ear. “Fiancé was a bit of a jump.”
My stomach sinks, shame knocking at the door of my emotions. “Too far?” I say.
Wesley chuckles. “I think it was a nice touch.” My anxiety leaves me in a woosh. “Cowboy, though?” He winces, but I can see the humor he’s trying to hide.
“Oh, shush,” I say, swatting at his chest.
“What do you say we find wherever the hell your friends went?” He starts, still leaning so close I can feel his breath on my skin. “Clearly, they lost the plot.”
“I don’t know,” I muse. “I think we had it pretty well handled.”
As we near the back door at the top of the porch, Wes’s pinky brushes mine. I accept it, weaving my fingers through his and not caring if Chad can see it or not.