Page 114 of The Fiancée Farce
“Are you—”
“Yes.” Tansy laughed. “I can take care of myself.”
Gemma nodded and forced her way into the crush of bodies.
“Brooks!” She lost her footing, sliding on a stray piece of confetti. “Slow down!”
There was only so far he could run. The table with the punch bowl was fast approaching. Brooks, coward that he was, circled the table, putting an entire champagne fountain between them.
“You”—she panted—“have some explaining to do.”
Brooks tsked, reaching for a coupe glass near the top of the structure. “Might I suggest you add some cardio into your fitness routine? You seem a touch out of breath.”
She slapped her hands down against the table, delighting in the way Brooks’s eyes widened as the whole fountain trembled. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
He gestured to the champagne in his hand, his face the picture of innocence, all wide eyes and raised brows, lips tipped up at the corners. “Why, I believe I’m getting your mother a glass of champagne. That’s not a crime, is it?”
Gemma barely restrained the urge to stomp her foot. “In my book, it is.”
Brooks rolled his eyes. “You’re acting mad as a March hare.”
“I’mthe one acting crazy?” She cleared her throat, pitching her voice. “You look lovely. Oh, this old thing? Just something I threw on.Seriously, Brooks, invasion of the body snatchers much?”
Brooks tipped his head back, draining half his glass of champagne and letting out a refreshed sigh. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“You’ve been acting sketchy for weeks, interestingly enough, every time I mention my mother.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Sketchy?”
“You’re tripping all over your words, acting all flustered. You blushed like a schoolboy. You—” Jesus Christ. It took saying it all out loud for her to add two and two together. How...horrifying. Math had never been so gross, and that was really saying something. “You!You have the hots for my mother!”
He held up his hands. “Now, Gemma—”
“I don’t hear you denying it!”
“And you won’t, because I won’t lie to you. But I can promise I—”
“She’s mymom. Andyou, you are myuncle.”
Above all, she had trusted him.
“I’m your father’s brother—”
“My father’s brother. Yes, exactly. AVan Dalen.”
“You say it like it’s a dirty word.” Brooks chuckled uncomfortably.
Because it was. The dirtiest word of them all.
The thought must’ve been stamped across her forehead because Brooks’s face fell. “Gemma, darling—”
“Don’t even,” she snapped. “Youknowwhat she’s gone through. To hell and back, thanks toyourbrother and this entire godforsaken family.”
If Gemma had her way, she’d ship her mother halfway around the globe, somewhere no one in this family could ever hurt her. If she could, she’d make it so her mother never had to hear the nameVan Dalenuttered ever again.
And yet here she was of her own volition. And people wondered where Gemma got her stubborn streak from.
“I swear on my life that my intentions are pure.” Brooks paused. “Okay, perhaps notpure, but harmless.”
