Page 42 of Fast

I have to wonder how long he’s been standing there. Maybe he saw us making out.

Fuck, I hope he didn’t hear the stuff Chance just said to me. I mean, we aren’t doing anything wrong, but I feel bad. This is a political event that’s obviously important to him. I’m sure he would be embarrassed if one of his guests had walked out and caught us pretty much dry humping in the Country Club’s garden.

“The speeches ended a few minutes ago, and the guy from the Star Cove Gazette wanted to take a family photo. He’s doing a double feature about Star Cove’s first family and the wedding next weekend.”

Great. When Mom dropped the bombshell that she was engaged, I never anticipated all this. She used to hate all themedia attention that came with being married to Dad; I guess this is different now, since she worked on Scott’s campaign.

“Sorry, Dad.” Chance says, his fingers still twined with mine. “It was a little stuffy in there and Zara and I just needed some air.”

From our joined hands, Scott’s eyes come back to our faces. “Right. Once we take that photo, you kids are free to go.”

As we follow Scott back to the dining room, I let go of Chance’s hand to make sure that my hair isn’t a mess. I straighten my dress, smoothing the soft chiffon of the skirt with both hands. Whether Mom’s fiancé saw us kissing or not, I’m sure it isn’t hard to guess what we were up to outside.

My lips feel swollen, and I can only hope there isn’t a hickey on my neck.

Hopefully, I can excuse myself for a few minutes and go put on some fresh lipstick and make sure my hair is behaving before we pose for those family photos.

“There was another thing I wanted to do before we pose for the Gazette,” Scott says, as we reenter the dining room from the same door we used earlier. “Zara, you haven’t met my eldest son, Ares.”

I was unprepared for this.

Not for seeing Ares again, since it was obvious I would eventually bump into him.

I just remember Ares as the motorcycle racer who protected me when Cal hit me.

Physically, he hasn’t changed much; maybe his shoulders are a little wider, his blond hair is a lot shorter than it was two years ago. I don’t know if it’s his cop uniform or what else, but Ares looks more serious. Tougher, more grown up.

His slate-gray eyes find mine and I have to fight to suppress the shiver that travels down my spine.

“Zara?” he asks, his large hand engulfing mine when his father makes the introduction. “Youare Kelly’s daughter?”

I open my mouth to answer, but no sound comes out.

He’s looking at me the same way he was the first night we met, two years ago; when he walked me to my room, and I thought he was going to kiss me.

“Hello, Ares.” I finally manage to drawl.

Lame, I know. But one thing that hasn’t changed since two years ago is the effect that gray gaze has on me.

It’s as if Ares could see straight into my soul. And somehow, I feel like he’s judging me, just like when we first met.

His gaze goes from me to his brother.

I wish I could find something smart or funny to say right now, but this guy has the power to render me speechless.

“Do you guys know each other?” Scott asks, confused.

“We met two years ago,” Ares offers. “In Bridgeport.”

A look passes between Scott and his eldest son. “When were you in Bridgeport, unless it was…”

“Zara was at the race.”

Scott’s gaze hardens; the dark blue of his eyes turns into ice, hard and dangerous. “Ah, I see.”

“You’re all here, at last.” Mom comes to gather us for the Gazette photo, and I swear I could hug her.

The tension that was swirling in the air dissipates, at least in part, as we follow the photographer’s directions.

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