Page 44 of Played

“Our stuff getting stolen.”

I scoff. “Ethan once told me that rich people are even more stingy than poor people, Trudy. Don’t be fooled.”

“Well, if some rich, classy guy wants my Walmart special pants, he’s welcome to them.”

I snort a laugh. “You’re unreal.”

“And that’s why you love me. Come on.”

We’re standing at the bar, people watching, when Trudy finally spots who I assume is Maverick. “Shit, there he is.” She squeals under her breath. I’ve never seen her come so unglued before.

“Well, go talk to him, then.” I encourage.

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Freya.”

“Why not? I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“I’m afraid you’ll go hide in a corner or leave.”

I look around. There are people milling about everywhere. “There’s nowhere to hide, and unless I want to hop on a plane or hitch a ride, I have no choice but to stay put.”

And just as she’s about to say something else, Maverick approaches. He’s got a smile on his face that is almost contagious. “Hi, there.” He says to Trudy. “Glad you could make it.” He shakes her hand and then looks at me. “And you must be the infamous Freya.”

“Aye. The one and only.” I say, not trying to hide the snark in my voice.

“Ethan’s around here somewhere.”

“Good. Then you can tell me where and I’ll stay wherever the opposite of that is.”

He just smiles. “My da is dying to meet you. He’d kill me if he knew I didn’t bring you around to meet him.”

“Well, then, let’s all go see him.” Trudy suggests.

I give her a disapproving look. “Thanks.”

She winks, pleased with herself.

Dougall Harris is talking to who I assume is the officiant of this thing, since he’s wearing a blue gown with one of those white collars wedged around it. “Ah, Maverick. There you are.” Dougall states. “Mister Renaud is here. He wants to have a word with you. He’s over by the bar.”

“A client.” Maverick explains. “I’ll be right back.”

“Reverend!” I hear someone shout.

“Yes, Laney?” He calls. Laney is standing there, in her wedding dress, which is a simple white frock with lace sleeves, an empire waist, and a small, fishtail train. Caleb is nowhere to be found, and thank God for that, not just for my benefit, but also for his bride-to-be’s benefit.

“Could you come here for a moment?”

“Err…yes. I’ll be right there.”

Once the reverend leaves, it’s just myself and Trudy standing there with Dougall. He’s wearing a sharp black suit, likely no different than what he wears on a regular basis at the office, but his boutonniere is a soft pink color, I’m assuming to match his wife’s dress, and the smile on his face is a mile wide. “And you must be Freya Stewart and Trudy Denhomme, I presume?”

I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m Freya. Pleased to finally meet you.”

He takes my proffered hand and kisses the top of it. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you, sir.” I smile.

He kisses Trudy’s hand, too. “You have my Maverick’s eye, lass. I can see why.”

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