Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “His father came? I never saw him.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” I mutter.
“Aw. Did he say something awful to you?” Ivy reaches out and grabs my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “He’s terrible—says the most offensive things ever. When I was younger, he used to try and hit on me.”
“He doesn’t try and hit on you now?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him in a while and besides, Archer would kill him. Like tear him apart and murder him with his bare hands if he so much as leered at me, let alone touched me.” Ivy smiles, a dreamy look in her eyes. “He’s so hot when he gets all possessive like that.”
Envy curls through me, gripping me tight. “Must be nice.”
“Someday I bet you’ll experience the same thing with Matt,” Ivy says, full of a confidence I wished I felt even a tenth of.
Instead of making her more curious, I decide to put on a brave face. “Yeah, maybe I will,” I say with a false enthusiasm that makes Ivy give me the side eye.
I can’t get anything right, I swear.
Matt
I CAUGHT SIGHT of Bryn escorting my dad out of here not even twenty minutes ago, and it was like a weight had been lifted off me, making me infinitely lighter. It took everything in me not to fret and worry like a little old lady, my gaze constantly going to where Bryn sat with Dad.
I was afraid he’d say something horrible to her, or worse, touch her in an inappropriate manner. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like that to some poor, innocent woman.
I just don’t want him doing it to my woman.
With my dad off the premises, I find my focus and really start to work it. I talk to the local winery owners I invited, who all seemed grudgingly impressed with my wine list. I speak with plenty of local media who want to feature the DeLuca Winery; being a former pro ball player gives my story an extra edge they all want to explore.
I haven’t eaten dinner and I’m starved, living on the occasional appetizer I find here and there, taking way too many swigs of wine. My head is spinning—I’m high on tonight’s event coming together so perfectly—and I wonder where the hell Bryn is.
Plans to celebrate with her are definitely on my late-night agenda.
“Have you seen Bryn?” I ask Archer when I find him moving through the crowd, clutching two glasses, one full of water. I figure he’s on his way back to Ivy.
“She’s sitting with Ivy over there.” He gestures with one of the glasses. “Ivy asked me to grab her a drink.”
I should probably stay and talk with my guests some more, but I’m growing exhausted being on all the time. I need a break. I want to hang out with my people. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”
“Uh huh.” Archer flashes me a knowing smile over his shoulder as I fall into step behind him. “Missing your girl, hmm?”
“She’s not my girl,” I say, though the thought of Bryn with any other man, of her giving another man the right to call her his girl, fills me with a near overwhelming rush of jealousy.
Yeah. That was sort of a lie. I wouldn’t mind if Bryn was my girl. But she can’t be my girl. I have a bet to win.
Fuck the bet.
“You got what—less than forty days? Then she can be your girl. If you can hold out that long,” Archer says, stopping at the table where Ivy and Bryn are sitting, deep in conversation. “Look who I found, ladies,” he announces as he sets the glasses in front of the women.
They both glance up, their gazes dark and not necessarily happy when they see me.
Weird.
“Hey, Matt,” Ivy says first, grabbing her water glass and taking a big swig. “Looks like tonight was a huge success despite your father showing up.”
I frown. Great, did she notice? Or did Bryn tell her? “Yeah, well thanks to the dependable Miss James, who took care of everything and made sure he didn’t cause too much of a scene.”
“Yes, well thank goodness. You can always count on Miss James. Right, Bryn?” Ivy casts her an unreadable glance, which Bryn returns silently.
The vibe is completely off though Archer seems oblivious to it. They’d been talking about me. And somehow, someway, I must’ve pissed Bryn off. But how? She’d been so sweet to me right before she went and took care of my dad. How could it all have fallen apart in that short amount of time? Could Dad have said something to her, and she’s keeping it to herself?
Shit.
“Well, listen I’m going to wander around and see if there’s anything else that needs to be done,” I say, gripping the chair in front of me.
“Off to play the gracious host, huh?” Archer asks, slinging his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. She snuggles up closer to him and jealousy fills me, sharp and painful.
I wish I had the right to be as affectionate with Bryn. We’re not even close to that comfort level yet. I touch her in front of Gage and Archer and they’ll be all over me like white on rice, ready to call the entire bet off.
Not that I care about the million dollars, but damn it, it’s the principle. I won that bet fair and square. I want to collect from them and rub it in their faces.
I feel like an immature asshole, but I want to win.
“Gotta do what I must to ensure everyone’s having a good time,” I say with a smile, glancing at Bryn to find her watching me with those all-seeing, sky-blue eyes.
“Do you need my help?” she asks.
“No, relax. Sit and enjoy the party. You dealt with enough already.” I’m trying to communicate with her how much I appreciate her taking care of my dad. That couldn’t have been easy. The old man is a grumpy asshole with a mouth that never, ever stops.
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.” She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She looks so beautiful and so incredibly fragile sitting there next to the pregnant Ivy, who’s glowing with vitality. Compared to her, Bryn’s natural light from the last week is dimmed. She doesn’t need the beige tonight. Even in magenta she looks subdued.
And I hate that. Knowing I’m the cause of it all.
“Could I talk to you for a moment though?” I suddenly ask. “Privately?” I need to make sure she’s all right.
“Sure.” She shrugs those beautiful, bared shoulders and stands, going round the table so she’s next to me. I lead her away to another table at the far end of the courtyard, ignoring Archer since I can feel him watching me. Just waiting for me to slip up and somehow touch Bryn inappropriately in front of him.
Jackass.
“What’s going on?” she asks when we stop to talk.
“Did my father say something to you? Did he offend you or try to put his hands on you?” I ask, cutting right to the point.
She sighs, hangs her head. “He said a few things. Nothing that I haven’t heard before.”
What the hell does she mean by that? “What are you talking about?”
Bryn lifts her head so her gaze meets mine once more. “He asked if the two of us were—sleeping together yet, though he phrased it a little more crudely.”
I inwardly groan. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him we weren’t, of course, which is the truth.” She stresses the last word. “He didn’t believe me.”
“What a bastard,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair in pure frustration. “How did you get him to leave?”
“Well, he wouldn’t stop with the crude remarks and insults so I finally dragged him to his feet and hauled him out of here. Turned him over to the guys working valet, and they got him to his car,” she explains matter-of-factly.
While I wish I could’ve been there by her side to defend her, I’m also proud of the fact that she handled herself so calmly. “You’re amazing,” I say softly, wishing I could touch her. But I can still feel Archer’s eyes on me so there’s no way I’m going to do it.