Page 6 of One Golden Ring
I feel a tiny twinge of jealousy and rip my eyes away from the girl and her belly.
“Who is this?” a dramatic male voice asks.
I turn to see a tall thin man in a chef’s hat sweeping into the lounge to greet us.
“Bronson,” Michael says fondly. “This is my grandson, Derek, and his sweetheart, Darcy Keller.”
Sweetheart?
I don’t dare glance up at my boss’s handsome face—in part because I’m blushing so hard he’ll probably think something’s wrong with me. But also because I’m afraid of the horrified expression he’s surely wearing, an expression that will hurt my feelings, even though I’ve got no excuse to kid myself about him.
Derek Lockwood would never,everfall in love with me.
First of all, I can’t imagine him falling in love with anyone. But also, I know he could land an actress or a supermodel, or a member of the UN wholooks likean actress or a supermodel, or… well, you get the idea.
Plus there’s nothing he cares about more than his work, and I’m off-limits for him if he doesn’t want to violate every corporate policy in the book.
So there’s no point even letting myself pretend I’m his girlfriend.
“Will there be wedding bells soon?” Bronson asks, not noticing that I’m currently trying to blend into the rug. “You know I can do a beautiful tiered cake. We had awedding here not so long ago. The owner can give a reference. Keep it in mind.”
“Nothing would make me happier, old friend,” Michael says to Bronson.
I try looking away from them, but a whole bunch of faces are looking right back at me.
Everyone, literallyeveryonein this lobby is staring at us now.
I imagine what the two of us must look like—a GQ model and his disheveled niece. Or a movie star and his country cousin, maybe?
Why didn’t I keep my nice work clothes on at least? I’ll never be half as attractive as Derek Lockwood, but at least I’d look put-together.
“We wouldn’t want to spoil a surprise,” Mr. Lockwood growls from beside me so suddenly that I almost jump out of my boots.
“Oh, I see,” Michael says, buttoning his lips and looking delighted.
“A surprise,” Bronson echoes with a smug smile. “How lovely.”
But I’m already so shocked at this whole conversation that I don’t think he could surprise me more if he grew another head.
What in the world is happening?
“Let’s get some food in you,” Michael says, placing my hand on his arm like the dashing hero in a black and white movie and leading me toward the doorway to what looks like an elegant dining hall.
“The heat’s not working in the cabin,” Mr. Lockwood says, like he’s just finally remembered why we came here.
Besides to fill his sweet grandfather’s head with bald-faced lies,a little voice whispers unhelpfully in the back of my head.
“Is this your grandson, Michael?” the lady behind the desk pops out to ask.
She’s eyeing Mr. Lockwood like he’s a tall drink of water and she’s just gotten done a jog through the desert, and I suddenly want to shove her out of the way and make him look at me again, which makes literally zero sense.
But as always when women try to cozy up to him, he doesn’t even give her the time of day.
“Come say hello in the dining room, Margo,” Michael tells her. “It’s freezing in the cabin without heat, so I want to get some food in these two lovebirds.”
Lovebirds?
I’m starting to entertain the idea that I may have actually lost my mind.
