Page 29 of Pin-up Girl

Seriously. What was that woman’s problem with Aubrey? The irritation about work that I’d been trying all weekend to redirect slipped in, with a new source to be directed at. “I’ll drive.”

9

aubrey

I was grateful Brodie could join us for lunch. That he was willing to drive Sylvie and me the half hour or so to Ogden, to meet Grandma. The way he reached for my hand or wrapped an arm around my waist at every opportunity should have felt presumptuous, given I’d only known him for a few days.

But that wasn’t true. I’d known him for years, despite not having a face or name to put with the personality.

Besides, the contact, the support, was comforting, and it played right into the doting fiancé part that he played. His presence, the fact that he opened doors and pulled out chairs and was always a perfect gentleman, seemed to be keeping Grandma from digging into me.

When I ordered the pasta and chicken for lunch, and Sylvie ordered the chop salad, Grandma had suggested I might want something more like what my sister was eating.

“I’m happy with my order,” I said.

She looked me over, brows raised. “I see that.”

Heat crept up over my skin, and I summoned long-in-place defenses to keep from withdrawing into myself.

Next to me, Brodie twisted in his seat to face me, and drew my attention with his palm on my cheek, so I was looking at him. “She’s trying to say you look gorgeous, Peach.” He brushed his lips over mine with such a light touch, the kiss was mostly suggestion.

The sensation still drew a light sigh and sent a shiver through me, shifting my heated skin from embarrassment and frustration to desire.

I didn’t know what to make of Sylvie’s soft grunt. When I glanced at her, she wore an impossible to read smile.

The couple more times that Grandma tossed a passive aggressive comment in my direction, Brodie silenced her with simple responses like that’s not true or even better that’s one of the things I adore about Aubrey.

We were most of the way through lunch, and I hadn’t had to bite back tears or an angry rant once, yet I got to stay sober the entire time. I’d learned long ago that my counters to Grandma’s retorts were never satisfying.

Most of the conversation had been around which family members Sylvie should invite to the wedding, and tidbits of information from Grandma about each one of them. One aunt had been promoted at the insurance company, and a cousin was heading a new cybersecurity venture in Atlanta. Someone’s spouse was in Ukraine, helping with relief efforts, and another cousin had just adopted their fourth child, making sure another neglected kid had a safe home to call their own.

I liked hearing the news. I liked the way she spoke about each of them with pride.

The way she glanced at me with a furrowed brow after each new family brag wasn’t great.

When the waiter came around to ask if we wanted dessert, Sylvie and Grandma ordered coffee. I was tempted to ask for the largest, messiest thing on their sweets menu, and eat it all.

I would have if I was hungry enough, but making myself sick out of spite wasn’t worth it.

Our plates were cleared away, and the coffee was served, and we moved on to talking about the reception.

“I want our first dance as husband and wife to be amazing,” Sylvie said. “The kind of thing that goes viral in videos. Flashy. Showy. Classic. Also, it has to be something I can easily teach him because he’s not going to have a lot of time to learn dances. He’s so busy with work.”

“So are you.” I didn’t understand why she should surrender her time when her fiancé wasn’t willing. Since she’d arrived, she’d been up by six every morning, working in my guest room, and whenever she wasn’t planning, she was doing something for work.

Sylvie gave me a sugary smile. “It’s okay. You come up with something, you show me, and I’ll teach him.”

Wait. Me? “I don’t choreograph dances.”

“You were a dancer in school.”

“Almost twenty years ago.” Why were we having this conversation?

Sylvie huffed. “But you still watch all the shows.”

“I was on the drill team. High kicks and synchronized movements and saber spinning. Do you want a saber at your reception?” The moment I asked, a dark scowl spread across Grandma’s face.

That made it tempting.

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