Page 66 of One Wealthy Wedding

“Say what?” she asks innocently.

“Cat.”

“Make me stop, then.”

“I will pull this car over right now,” I growl.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she says.

Fuck. My body goes taut. Is that what she likes?

Luckily, Cat doesn’t seem to realize what she’s doing to me. “Theo Archer,” she starts in a high-pitched voice. “You irresponsible scoundrel. You wastrel.” She starts to laugh between words, so I finish, “You mewling, fly-bitten miscreant.”

She tips her head back and laughs, her shoulders shaking.

“You liked that, did you?” I ask.

“I loved it.” She sighs happily. “I still can’t believe you stole that car.”

She’s talking about the 1975 Mustang I hot-wired when I was seventeen.

“I can’t believe you made me give it back,” I say.

“It belonged to my English teacher,” she protests. “She was going to fail me.”

“Associating with me was your first mistake.”

She smiles. “Nah. Learning all those Shakespearean insults was worth it.”

“You called me a wastrel for weeks after that.” The thought warms my chest. After her English teacher gave me an earful, Cat and I made up increasingly complicated insults that we would lob at the most inappropriate times.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asks after our laughter has died down.

“Miss what?” I think I know what she’s talking about, but I don’t want to go down this road.

“Rockwood,” she says quietly. “Not the place, but those summers we spent.”

“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “I have a lot of bad memories there.”

“Me too,” she says. I think she’s going to give me more, but she doesn’t, and I don’t really want to pry. Cat and her parents might be on the outs now, but she had the childhood that dreams are made of. What could her bad memories possibly consist of? She went to parties, had the best education money could buy and endless luxuries. Servants.

I turn the car with a little more force than necessary, and Cat gives me a sharp look.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothing,” I say, jaw grinding. “Let’s do the questionnaire I prepared. We’re supposed to get to know each other today.”

“Are you going to be a dick about it?” Cat asks.

I bark a surprised laugh, my anger at Cat of the past fading in the face of her honesty. “Probably not,” I say.

“How reassuring,” she says. “I’ll try not to be a dick either. Pass me the questionnaire.”

I dig in my pocket for the paper, and she smooths it over her lap.

“My shoe size? Really? My college major? My favorite food? My favorite sex position?” She chokes a breath. “If you had to read one book for the rest of your life, which would you pick?” She looks at me. “Honestly, Theo. It’s like you’re trying to torment me.”

“George added that one. I can’t be blamed. Besides, favorite food isn’t going to get us very far in conversation, princess. Pick a book.”

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