“This is Grayson, Kate. And he isn’t just my date. He’s my boyfriend, which I did ask Mom to tell everyone.”
Kate winks at Jill. “Boyfriend, hmm? Well, it’s nice to meet you, Grayson. I’m Jill’s sister.”
When she looks at me again, I extend my hand and grin. “It’s a pleasure, Kate. Thank you for letting me come for this. Everything looks beautiful already. I can only imagine the ceremony itself.”
We shake hands briefly before she returns my smile and says, “Oh, that’s sweet of you. I can’t take all the credit, though. I’ve had a lot of help from Vince’s sisters. We’ve all been here since Wednesday, preparing.”
Jill’s flinch is subtle enough that if I weren’t touching her, I wouldn’t have felt it. My attention grows fixated on that reaction, a very loud and persistent voice in my head demanding that I put a stop to whatever it was that upset her.
“I would have been here earlier, but I already used the majority of my paid days off this year,” Jill explains, her voice thick with guilt.
The last time I checked, she still had at least a week left of paid leave, so I know she’s lying. I keep that to myself, obviously.
“I suppose you used them all to babysit for your friend?” her mom asks as she approaches from the table.
Jill pulls her shoulders back as she stands off with her mother. “And if I did? She’s mybestfriend. And her baby girl is my goddaughter.”
“I’m sure Ivy is a darling. It’s her husband that I?—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Clarkson,” I say before she can finish. While my own mother would have flicked me in the chin for cutting a woman off like that, it’s best there isn’t a fight before dinner’s been served. “Grayson Brooks.”
“Brooks? Don’t tell me you don’t even know your boyfriend’s last name, Jillian,” Meredith’s mother guffaws.
My smile doesn’t waver. “I go by Pierce at work. Brooks is my family name.”
I’m aware that I didn’t share this tidbit of information with Jill or anyone from the workplace, for that matter. It’s trulysomething that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The only reason I’m sharing it with her family today is because I’m hoping this isn’t the first time I’m around them, and if that’s the case, I want to be as authentic as possible. Given the circumstances, there are only so many things I can say that are truth.
Pierce is my middle name, and once I left Cherry Peak, I suppose I wanted a real fresh start. While every piece of ID and paperwork includes Brooks, it was Pierce that I used while introducing myself at work that first day. My family name is one that everyone back home knows me by, and it carries weight everywhere but Snowbell Ridge. That’s the way I want it to stay.
“Again, I’m excited to get to meet you. I’ve been patiently waiting for my chance to spend time with the people who raised such an amazing daughter,” I all but purr, laying it on as slick as possible.
Jill’s mom’s eyebrows smooth slightly as she nods. “I wish I’d had more of a chance to plan some time alone for us to get to know each other, but this will have to do.”
“And give you the chance to scare him away? Yeah, right,” Jill says flippantly.
I press my tongue to the back of my teeth to hide my immediate amusement and drop my hand to the top curve of her ass. She doesn’t have a chance to react before I’m pinching it sharply. Jolting against me, she pins my hand between us. I twitch in my slacks and lower my mouth to her hair, playing the movement of my lips off as if I’m kissing her.
“Behave.”
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Jill?”
Suddenly, my warning sounds more like it was meant for me than her.
The man approaching us is either incredibly brave or equally as stupid. I missed him during my initial sweep of the table, butthere’s no repeating that mistake. He doesn’t give me the chance to shift Jill closer before curling his arms around her and hauling her away.
The sight of his hands as they fall far too fucking low on her back has red crawling along the edges of my vision. I jam my hands into my pockets and grip the inner fabric to try and calm myself.
Acts of aggression have never been my go-to response to many situations. When I’m angry, I’ll slip on a pair of sneakers and run until my legs are too weak to carry me further. I don’t start brawls at rehearsal dinners by breaking a man’s wrist.
I’m tempted to start.
“How long has it been? Four years?” he asks, keeping her in his arms for far too long.
It’s not until I’m starting to take a strained step forward that he releases her. The smirk he flashes me over her shoulder is overshadowed immediately by the feel of her back against my body. I let my hand fall back to its place on her hip and press us flat together, back to front.
Jill reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers, letting them press into her stomach. The steady, back-and-forth motion of her thumb across my knuckles is enough to have the jealousy dissipating from my blood.
“Four years sounds about right,” she snips, sounding far from interested in continuing any sort of conversation with him.
