Mom giggled like a schoolgirl. Brody and I stood shoulder to shoulder and watched them drive off. The last thing I heard was Mom suggesting more cocktails.
“I pity that poor valet, but they couldn’t drive,” Brody said. “They both had multiple drinks.”
“Were there any circumstances where your father was going to take no for an answer?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Well, then, here’s hoping they get to your house and decide to stay there. Or call an Uber,” I added as an afterthought.
“I do not want them staying at my house.” The look he shot me was incredulous. “Are you kidding me right now?”
There was no containing my laughter. “I would invite them to my house—I’m used to my mother’s shenanigans—but something tells me your father is not going to be up for that.”
“He’s not going to be up for anything at my house either. He hates my house.”
That caught me by surprise. “Why? Is there something wrong with your house?”
“You could fit the entirety of my house in his foyer.”
“Oh.”
I’d known Brody came from money. That rumor had made the rounds right after the incident two years before. That was part of the reason I wasn’t sympathetic to his plight. Still, I knew him better now and couldn’t help wanting to stand up for him.
“I’m sure it’s nice,” I said finally.
“It is. It’s a lot like your house.”
“My house isn’t even decorated yet.”
“Oh.” He cocked his head. “Then I guess your house will be better than mine when you get to that.”
“You don’t like decorations?”
“I don’t think I know how to decorate.”
“All you have to do is pick things you like,” I said.
“What if I don’t like anything?”
“There has to be something you like,” I insisted.
For a moment—just a split second really—the way he looked at me suggested he wanted to say that he liked me. My stomach constricted at the naked emotion on his face, and I realized I liked that possibility. Then I wanted to slap myself for thinking anything of the sort.
It’s a bad idea to get involved with him. If it goes poorly, which it will, you’ll be stuck attending the same conferences for the next two decades, and it will be awkward.
“I guess I’ll have to give it some thought,” he said finally. “I don’t like nautical themes, and in case you haven’t noticed, most of the houses here have them.”
I chuckled. “Oh, I’ve noticed. Do you think it’s weird that lawn gnomes are bad?”
It was an odd transition, but he took it in stride. “What’s with you and the lawn gnomes? Why are you so interested in them?”
“I never was until I was told I couldn’t have one.”
“Are you going to test the rules of the homeowner’s association by trying to sneak gnomes in?”
I turned coy. “Maybe.”
He smirked. “You’ll get fined.”
