Page 38 of Fairy Tale Lies
He wasn’t interested. “You know where I can find Greta Meier?”
A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Lily. What’s your name?”
“Jacob. Do you know Greta?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know her. Better question,whydon’t I know you? I know everyone around here, yet I don’t recall ever meeting you. I’d remember.”
Jacob tried to swallow his annoyance. The way she was ogling him, he didn’t have to worry she’d kick him out as a gatecrasher. However, she was more interested in flirting than helping.
“I’m not from around here,” he hedged.
“I figured as much. What are you to Greta?”
The woman’s lack of help was rubbing on the edge of his already frayed nerves. It had taken almost an hour to get to Petite Bois, and the entire time he pictured Blake’s hands on Greta. “Dammit, lady, she’s— I’m dating her.” He almost said girlfriend but remembered Greta’s heavy pause when he said it earlier on the phone. He kept forgetting they were supposed to be a fling, nothing more. “Do you know where she is or not?”
Seemingly oblivious to his rudeness, she grinned. “Really? You and Greta. Huh. You don’t look her type.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Like he hadn’t heard that before or thought it himself. “Listen, you know where I can find her or not? It’s fucking important.”
Giving up on this woman being any help, he stepped around her. He didn’t have time to play silly games. Greta had sounded anxious when they talked, and this woman was wasting precious minutes.
“Lower your hackles, handsome. Follow me. I’ll show you where I last saw her.”
About damn time.
She led him through a house that was more castle than home. “Now I understand why Greta’s been giving Blake the cold shoulder this evening.” She glanced at him, giving him another suggestive smile.
Man, this lady’s flirting is subtle as a hammer to the head.
“She gives him the cold shoulder because he’s a dickhead.” Jacob wished she’d walk faster.
“Please tell me how you really feel.” She laughed, opening a set of French doors that led to a huge terrace. “She was here, oh, twenty minutes ago. She’s wearing a powder blue dress.”
Lily turned back toward the house. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he replied absently, scanning the crowd and immediately spotting Greta.
She looked good,damngood.
The dress she wore was made to worship her body. It stopped a couple of inches above her knees, flaring in soft folds, showcasing her mile-long, slim legs. The top was mouthwatering, with its fitted lace and a deep plunging neckline.
Less captivating and more infuriating was Blake. He was in Greta’s personal space.
Fucker.
Jacob pounded toward them, stopping next to Greta. He kissed her neck, positioning his back to Blake, facing Greta and pretending the other man was invisible.
He slid his hand in hers, entwining their fingers. “Ready to leave?”
Blake shoved Jacob’s shoulder. “Who the hell let you in? This isn’t some ghetto party. You won’t find anyone around here carrying forties in a paper bag.”
The guy sounded and smelled like a wino but had the balls to call him trash.
Jacob faced Blake, moving Greta behind him, using his body as a wall. He examined the other man and laughed. If it weren’t for the fancy clothes and haircut, Blake could be any drunk on 8 Mile.
“What is funny, reprobate?” he growled, his hands curling into fists.
“You, dickhead. I’ve never met anyone so far up their own ass.” Dismissing Blake, Jacob asked Greta, “Do you want to leave?”
