Page 23 of Suzanna's Surrender
“I was. And you’re Christian Bradford’s grandson.”
“That’s right,” Holt agreed, and his voice had cooled.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to hound you as long as you’re a guest.” Studying him, Lilah ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass. “We’ll do that later. I’ll have Max show you the scar he got while we were having our little publicity stunt.”
“Lilah.” Max’s voice was soft with an underlying command.
Lilah merely shrugged and sipped champagne. “You remember C.C.” She gestured as her sister joined them.
“I remember a gangly kid with engine grease on her face.” He relaxed enough to smile. “You look good.”
“Thanks. My husband, Trent. Holt Bradford.”
It was Coco’s dance partner, Holt noted as the two men summed each other up during the polite introductions.
“And the bride and groom,” Lilah announced, toasting the couple before she drank again.
“Hello, Holt.” Though she was still glowing, Amanda’s eyes were steady and watchful. “I’m glad you could come.” As she introduced Sloan, Holt realized he’d been surrounded quite neatly. They didn’t press. No, the emeralds were never mentioned. But they’d joined ranks, he thought, in a solid wall of determination he had to admire, even as he resented it.
“What is this, a family meeting?” Suzanna hurried up. “You’re supposed to be mingling, not huddling in a corner. Oh. Holt.” Her smile wavered a bit. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Your aunt invited me.”
“Yes, I know, but—” She broke off and put her hostess’s smile back in place. “I’m glad you could make it.”
Like hell, he thought and lifted his glass. “It’s been... interesting so far.”
At some unspoken signal, her family drifted away, leaving them alone in the corner beside a tub of gardenias. “I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“I can handle it.”
“That may be, but I wouldn’t want you badgered at my sister’s wedding.”
“But it doesn’t bother you if it’s someplace else.”
Before she could retort, small impatient hands were tugging at her skirt. “Mom, when can we have the cake?”
“When Amanda and Sloan are ready to cut it.” She skimmed a finger down Alex’s nose.
“But we’re hungry.”
“Then go over to the buffet table and stuff your little face.”
He giggled at that but didn’t relent. “The cake—”
“Is for later. Alex, this is Mr. Bradford.”
Not particularly interested in meeting another adult who would pat his head and tell him what a big boy he was, Alex pouted up at Holt. When he was offered a very manly handshake, he perked up a bit.
“Are you the policeman?”
“I used to be.”
“Did you ever get shot in the head?”
Holt muffled a chuckle. “No, sorry.” For some reason he felt as though he’d lost face. “I did catch one in the leg once.”
“Yeah?” Alex brightened. “Did it bleed and bleed?”
