Page 60 of Not That Into You

Grace grabs the arm of a man wearing a dark suit who bears a striking resemblance to Cameron—if Cameron were drained of all humor and his hair were ruthlessly tamed into a short cut with a side-part.

“Archie, come meet Monica.”

Archie moves to stand next to Grace, disinterest wafting off him like cheap cologne. “Cameron’s girlfriend?”

The corner of Grace’s mouth lifts. “For now.”

Wow. Did she not get enough hugs as a child?

After a cursory perusal, Archie says in a bland voice, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I highly doubt that. “Likewise.”

He lifts a brow. “So, what do you do?”

“She’s an in-demand graphic designer,” Cameron says as he appears at my side, slipping an arm around my waist.

I’m both relieved and irritated at his sudden appearance. Relieved not to be facing his siblings alone but irritated he spoke for me.

“I’m a freelancer,” I say.

“Isn’t she lucky?” Grace asks. “She gets to work for herself.”

Archie grunts. “I imagine it’s nice having an easy boss.” He and Grace look at each other and smirk.

Cameron pulls me closer to his side. “We missed you last night at dinner, Arch.”

Archie lifts his brows. “Some of us have to work, Cameron.”

Cameron nods. “Ah yes, the insatiable drive to be Father’s favorite.”

Archie scoffs. “Don’t be juvenile. Though you may not appreciate it, the continued success of The Stanhope Group requires hard work.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Something you’re not familiar with.”

I inhale sharply as Cameron tenses beside me. “On the contrary. I simply appreciate that all work and no play makes one a dull boy.”

Archie snorts. “Is that why you’ve worked hard to elevate play to an occupation?”

Cameron’s jaw clenches. “I don’t play, Archie. I manage the company’s corporate communications.”

“Not entirely. Last I checked, you were still playing in the sandbox under someone else’s direction.”

“That will change soon.”

Archie cocks his head. “Will it?” He studies his glass. “You’ll have to grow up first.”

I put a hand on Cameron’s chest to keep him from stepping forward. “Cameron, I could use a drink. Come with me to get one?”

He grits his teeth, his eyes never leaving his brother. “Of course.”

I pull him away, but instead of walking toward the bar, I lead him outside, past the pool, and onto the lawn away from people, giving him a moment. His nostrils flare as he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks out toward the beach.

I take a hesitant step toward him. “You were right.”

He glances at me, furrowing his brow.

“Compared to your family, you’re not a snob.”

He grunts before looking back toward the beach.

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