Page 84 of Playing for Keeps
“You do remember having to hold me up after all that champagne the night of the auction, right? I could barely walk straight.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You werethatdrunk?” I’d thought she was just a little buzzed.
She nods, grinning. “Oh yeah. You’re lucky I didn’t throw myself at you. When I’m drunk, I either get ridiculously flirty or start crying.”
I blink.
Lucky she didn’t throw herself at me? I’d have been lucky if she did.
My lips curl into a slow smile. “Flirty or crying, huh?” I say, my eyes flicking to the road before going back to her. “Gotta say, I feel a little cheated. I would have liked to have seen ridiculously flirty Ivy.”
She laughs again, and that blush deepens. I love that I have that effect on her, even if she has no idea I’m doing it.
“But hey,” I add, my voice dropping a little. “If that’s how you get when you drink... maybe we should break out the champagne instead of tequila.”
She looks at me like she’s trying to read between the lines, like she’s trying to work out if I mean it or not. For a moment, neither of us says a word, and the air thickens between us.
She lets out a forced chuckle. “Good thing you probably don’t have champagne at home,” she says, her voice light again, but her eyes still betray her uncertainty.
I have champagne, but I don’t share that with her. Instead, I nod and play along. “Right. Wouldn’t want flirty Ivy making an appearance.”
She smirks. “Or crying Ivy. Equally dangerous.”
“True.”
She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms. “You’re trouble, Wyatt Brookes.”
I grin. “You havenoidea.”
And hell, I wish she did.
An hour later, dinner’s finished, and the conversation’s been all about the house Ivy and I viewed earlier. She pulls up the listing on her phone to show my parents, her voice lighting up as she talks about the intricate moldings, the soaring ceilings, and that sweeping staircase she’s obsessed with.
I find myself just watching her, completely caught up in the way her eyes shine when she’s passionate about something. Then I notice Mom watching me. She’s not saying a word, just smiling quietly when our eyes meet.
“Well, your dad and I are heading out once we’ve tidied up,” Mom announces, finishing off the last sip of her wine.
Dad blinks at her. “We are?” he asks, clearly blindsided.
I catch the not-so-subtle nudge she gives him under the table. “Yes,” she says firmly. “You’re taking me for a drink in Eden, remember?”
“Oh! Right. Yes. Of course. Let’s go.”
I bite back a groan. Subtlety isdefinitelynot her strong suit. Ivy glances between them, her eyebrows slightly raised, obviously trying to figure out what’s going on.
“You two should watch a movie in the den,” Mom adds casually, already standing. “There are snacks in the kitchen, and wine.”
“What about champagne?” I ask, throwing Ivy a wink. Her cheeks turn pink instantly.
“Champagne?” Mom echoes. “We’ve got that too. What are we celebrating?”
“The house,” I say, my eyes locked on Ivy.
She smiles. “That sounds like a great idea.”
“I’ll help clear up,” Ivy offers, rising from her seat and gathering her plate.
But Mom waves her off, taking the plate from her hands. “No, you won’t. You’re our guest. Henry and I will handle this. Go watch your movie with Wyatt.”
