Page 89 of Take Me Home

Her father clapped a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “The invitation was a bit last-minute, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“You invited him? When did you— How?” Ordinarily, she would have swallowed such a shrill, tight question, would have opted for private confusion over appearing upset, but there was no containing her shock. What was happening here? What thehellwas happening here?

“You said you were going to try to get together this week, so when I ran into him at the gym the other day…” Her father peered over one shoulder then the other. “A few other guys are around here somewhere. I invited the whole group.”

Her brain couldn’t compute all the jarring details at once. First of all, why would her father think she’d intended to see Justin? That was the last thing she wanted. Only…

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.She’dliedabout having plans to see friends early in the week to get out of spending time with Val and her kids. She was still lost as to how merely saying his name led to him standing here before her, but she understood with a heavy weight in her stomach that she’d brought it on herself.

So, obviously, the most logical and pressing next question was, “You do CrossFit?”

“Oh,” her father said after a beat. “No. Racquetball at the YMCA. The rec league tournament starts up after Christmas. Theyounger guys keep me on my toes. Justin and I wound up on a soccer team together last spring. Went head-to-head for the championship in softball last summer. Flag football, basketball…”

She cast a hard glare at Justin. Sometime after he’d led her on to sleep with her, he’d become her father’sfriend.

But Justin didn’t notice her glare. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention at all, working something out behind his cool blue eyes, his lopsided grin leveling to a nearly flat line. The confident swagger he’d worn like his high school letter jacket was gone.

“So, you guys are gym buddies.” An unhinged laugh bubbled up in Hazel’s throat. What could she even say? Her father didn’t know Justin had hurt and humiliated her. She’d never told him.

As for Justin, he’d gone from his old confident, flirtatious self to a cold statue. His arms were crossed, eyes fixed on some point off to the side of the room, jaw tight. And suddenly, she knew why. His confusion when she asked what he was doing here, that big hug, the compliments and open perusal of her body—he thought she knew he’d been invited, maybe even thought she’daskedher father to do it. Now he knew she hadn’t.

“Should I not have…?” her father began.

“I’m just surprised.” She smiled wider, her cheeks aching with the strain.

Around the room, caterers placed plates before the guests. Desperate for him not to ask any more questions, she said, “Oh, look, they’re serving dinner. We should sit.”

But when she slid into her seat, she caught the corner of the tablecloth. Everything on the table tipped. Ash caught the flowers, but he could do nothing to stop both glasses of water from flooding the table and running directly down her blouse and into her lap. She lurched back. The cold—athousandneedles—stole her breath. The screech of her chair legs cut through thedin in the room. Everyone’s eyes shot to her. She crossed her arms tightly, as much to hide her bra and pinched nipples through the now-see-through material as for warmth. Her wet shirt sucked against her stomach. The icy water ran down inside the waist of her skirt and into her underwear. Perfect. This evening just kept getting better and better.

An arm tucked around her back. Ash steered her out to the lobby and opened the restroom door for her.

Standing in the doorway, she plucked miserably at her shirt. “What am I doing?”

“Getting dry,” Ash said gently.

“No. I mean, what am I doing here? What ishedoing here?”

Ash gave her a tiny shrug. “We can leave.”

She huffed. That wasn’t an option, and he knew it.

“Then, we’re doing what you planned. Getting through it.”

“Sure,” she said, doubtful. “Okay.”

“Hey,” he said when she still didn’t go inside, catching her eyes. “It could have been worse.”

“How?”

“The water put out the candles. So, you didn’t set the place on fire.”

Her laugh surprised her. “Can you imagine?”

“Nothing says happy to be here like a little light arson.” He turned her around, squeezed the back of her neck with his warm, wide palm. “Go dry off.”

Chapter

Twenty-One

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