Beverly throws on her overzealous smile as we approach a table full of Dad’s prospective clients, the McCarthy’s, and Warren himself. I land in the seat next to Warren and pretend to listen as an entire whirlwind of conversation drones on around me for the next solid hour. Try as I might, I can’t seem to pay attention. Instead, I find myself sneaking glances at Ace who stands far away at the other end with Gavin, Kennedy, and Brylee. Joanna Knickerbocker slithers her way over and tries to climb Ace like a pole, and, honest to God, I can’t blame her. He deflects her efforts time and time again but she’s proving staunch and most likely wasted. I think it’s high time I intervened.
“Um”—I push my plate back and offer a polite smile to Dad, interrupting his conversation—“I think I’ll go out and mingle a bit.” I pan the table with a smile that says you will never see me again. “It was really nice getting to know all of you.”
I hardly have time to scoot my seat back before my father holds up a hand in protest.
“Warren?” Dad nods into him with a knowing look. “Why don’t you bring Reese over to the podium for a moment? Your father and I have something we’d like to say to you.”
Warren leans in. “I bet they want to reward me for all the bullshit I’ve done this summer.” He slinks his hot hand around my waist and pulls me over to the makeshift dance floor where there’s a glorified pulpit and microphone at the ready.
Dad taps the mike like he’s spanking its bottom and sets off some serious feedback, effectively settling all eyes and ears upon us.
Perfect. In the event I was worried Ace didn’t get the best view of Warren clutching onto me like a koala bear, we’re now front and center with DJ Daddy ready to drop a beat. At least it’s getting dark, and we’re sort of melting into the evening shadows.
A series of twinkle lights go on overhead and to my horror a bona fide DJ starts in on a slow song that’s thankfully turned too far down to dance to. A giant ten-foot screen pops up against the house, and the next thing I know I’m staring at an oversized version of myself, Warren and his father. Crap. Nothing but the best for Westfield and McCarthy.
I twist uncomfortably in my heels. Swear to God, as soon as they reward Warren with a new Corvette or whatever the going rate is for being their lackey, I’m kicking off my heels and dragging Ace to the Forbidden Falls.
I give a private smile at the thought.
“Warren—Reese.” Mr. McCarthy looks lovingly at the two of us as if I’ve somehow added to Warren’s success at the office. “It was years ago at the same university the two of you attend now that a good friend of mine and I decided we’d start up a law firm one day.” The crowd quiets as he readies to share the rest of his budding bromance with my father. “If we only knew then that one day our friendship would blossom into a legacy, we’d have been a little more sober-minded on the outset.” A few random chortles break out in the crowd.
Really? Legacy?
Someone should have suggested Warren senior here check his ego at the door. I’m pretty sure it’s never a good idea to make yourself sound like an egotistical maniac when the entire lake is flooded with prospective corporate clients, but whatever. He could recite his grocery list, and I couldn’t care less as long as I make it to the falls within an hour. I’m hoping to make a legacy myself.
“Legacy, family…” he continues with tears in his eyes. “Reese, when your father and I first noticed there was a genuine spark between you and Warren, in all honesty, we weren’t sure how to feel.”
Spark? My insides go rigid. Who has a fucking spark?
Holy shit. I glare into him.
Balls are going to roll if he keeps this up.
I scan the crowd for Ace.
Dad snatches the mike from Mr. McCarthy’s obnoxiously wasted hands, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I knew damn well how I felt.” Dad gives a stern look to Warren and the crowd erupts with laughter. “But, in all seriousness, you’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman with my daughter.” Not. “And as your love has grown for one another these past few months it’s become apparent to everyone around that not only is our business in the process of expanding but so is our family.”
Family? Is Warren having a baby?
I shoot a look up at Warren but he’s too caught up, nodding at my father like he knows exactly what the hell he’s talking about.
“That’s why.” He pauses. Beverly joins my father and hands him a shiny gold key with a red, white, and blue ribbon dangling from it. “When the Nicholson’s home came on the market both the McCarthy’s and I knew what needed to be done.” He gives a warm laugh. “Warren, Reese, we know you’re still off at college and, after that, graduate school waits for you, but because we love you both dearly, and we hope to glean many grandchildren from you one day, we wanted to give you an early wedding gift of sorts.” He hands the key to Warren. “Hope you won’t mind the neighbors. We’ve put both your names on the deed.” The crowd erupts with cheers as Warren pulls me in and lands a kiss over my lips.
Beverly leans in. “Your mother’s table is already in it.”
Crap.
I try to maneuver out of Warren’s vice grip and run the hell off the makeshift stage—maybe knock some sense into my father, by way of my shoe before I jump in the lake in an effort to forget this nightmare.
“That’s very nice of you.” Warren takes up the mike, and for a fleeting moment I’m hoping he’ll set the record straight—let them know that even if we were to get married one day—which we won’t—we would never be insane enough to live smack in between the two of them. Who does that? And who the hell gifts their kids houses—especially in front of the entire community and prospective clients? I think dad would have done better with his corporate contenders if I kept my bikini on and he kept his mouth and wallet shut.
Beverly stands alongside Warren’s social hungry mother and they gaze at us approvingly. You can practically see them drumming up a thousand neighborly reasons to drop by unannounced.
“Reese.” Warren turns to me, and I can feel my face turning colors. It couldn’t get any redder if you pressed it in a hot skillet.
Okay. Breathe. We got this. Warren and I are simply going to decline the gesture. We’ll raffle off the house for charity and make both our fathers look like stellar philanthropists in the process.God, it’s pure genius. I only wish someone would have let me in on the game plan right from the beginning.
