Page 90 of Lucky Strike

“I don’t thinkI know you,” a velvety voice says.

I glance up from my spot in the corner of the sitting room, where I’ve been admiring some of Sloane’s art collection. A young man is next to me, tall and good-looking in a patrician, Ralph-Lauren-at-the-country-club sort of way. He’s in light blue pants and a white shirt with thefirst few buttons undone, his shiny, thick brown hair combed to perfection. “I’m Bria, Liam Kelly’s nanny.”

His bright blue eyes twinkle as he extends his hand. “Steven Murphy, family friend. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The name sounds familiar, and it takes just a second to place it. The Murphys are one of Saoirse’s original five families. I don’t know much about them, but then I haven’t been around much over the past few years. “Please to make yours,” I reply with a smile.

His gaze travels subtly over me, like he’s cataloging my features. “Are you new to Boston?”

“You could say that. I went to school with Maeve.”

“An Edenbrook alum.” He nods, clinking his glass to mine. “I went to Sterling for a couple of years myself before transferring to Cedar Hills. Got to see old friends whenever our football teams played.”

“Oh, that’s fun.”

“It was. Some of the best years of my life.” He winks. “Besides college.”

“There you are.”

I look past Steven to Lucky, who’s strolling across the room. He looks like he belongs in a magazine shoot, all suave and debonair, with those perfectly fitted pants and that cheeky, charming smile. Some of his silky, black curls are long enough for him to gel back, which he did tonight. “Here I am.”

He glances impassively at the man to my left. “Steven.”

“Lucky.” The other man nods. “Great party. Your father looks well.”

“Thanks,” Lucky says. “How’s your mother? She here tonight?”

“Regrettably, no. She’s getting Annabeth settled in at Dartmouth.”

“Give them both my regards.” Lucky rests his hand on my back. “You don’t mind if I steal Bria, do you, champ?”

Steven raises his eyebrows. “Go right ahead. Nice meeting you, Bria.”

“You too, Steven.” I set my empty wine glass aside, allowing Lucky to lead me away.

“Having a good time?” Lucky asks, dipping his mouth to my ear. It’s a possessive move, and I don’t have to glance back to know Steven’s probably figured out I’m more than just the nanny.

“I’m having a great time.” I peek up at him, his closeness making myheart skip. “I love your parents! And their friends! I haven’t talked to this many people in forever and ever.”

Lucky’s half-smile turns teasing. “Are you tipsy, Ms. Grant?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I cover my face. “Sloane never lets my glass get halfway empty, I swear. I can’t keep up with her!”

He chuckles, pulling my hand down. “No one can.”

Damn that prosecco. It’s a silly thought, an echo of yester-year, and it makes me giggle. I wish I could tell Maeve, as it was an inside joke between us for years, but she’s talking to some old man in a plaid jacket, her face glowing as she gestures. Thank God. I hated seeing her sad.

“Come on, drunkie,” Lucky says, linking our fingers. “Let’s dance.”

“But no one’s dancing.”

“Don’t worry about that. Dad’s office has the best sound.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I let him lead me up one floor and down the hall to a warmly lit study. Owen’s, obviously. The desk is full of family photos and personal mementos, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line one entire wall. Several framed maps decorate another. One even has push pins all over it, probably places Owen’s been. I hope that’s me one day, traveling the world.With Lucky, a voice whispers in my head.

I sit on the edge of Owen’s desk. “You look like you’re having a good time tonight, too.”

He nods, his gaze traveling around the room. “When my mother said she was doing this, I thought she was nuts. Between Dad’s heart and all of the other bullshit we’ve been dealing with, it felt like too much. We’re all just trying to get by these days. But that’swhywe needed this, and she knew that.”

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