“Shame. I’d wager you’d be pretty good.”
Wendy tilted her face toward him and yet again, he was struck by just how beautiful she was. Flashes of their shared kiss in that hallway had his thoughts going fuzzy all over again. Her whispered, “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” barely registered.
“What?” he murmured, blinking.
“Why do you think I’d be good at the game?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’d be good at the game specifically. Based on the glances you’ve been getting from the single men here, I think you’d make a good distraction and win by default.”
She stared at him like he’d sprouted horns. Then her cheeks flooded with color and she looked away. He couldn’t tell if she was seeking out proof of what he’d said or not. It wasn’t hard to tell. He’d clocked at least half-a-dozen who’d gotten one look at her and they’d stopped mid conversation.
Tripp leaned in closer to her, his lips barely grazing the shell of her ear. “How about I take you over to that bar and get you a drink?”
The goosebumps that rose on her arms. The way her breath shuddered. He was affecting her just as much as she was affecting him tonight. There had been a shift in the air. Maybe they were due for a full moon. Whatever the reason, he needed to capitalize on this. It had been getting exhausting, all this squabbling between them.
“Truce?” he whispered. “Only for tonight?”
She glanced up at him warily. Like she didn’t believe him.
And why would she? There was no good reason for her to. Likewise, there was no good reason for him to trust her if she agreed.
But boy, did he want to.
Without waiting for an answer, he left her side. His steps were long and sure. He made it to where the drinks were being served and he poured her a glass of sweet iced tea. Then he returned to her side. Holding it out like the peace offering it was, he wasn’t all that surprised to find her wrinkling her nose at the drink.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She shot him a flat look, one full of that temper he was so used to seeing.
Tripp chuckled and held the glass out to her again. “I’m fully aware of the caliber of sweet tea someone like you would be accustomed to.”
That caught her attention and her eyes darted to his face once again. “What’s that supposed to mean? And how do I know if you did something to it?”
With a roll of his eyes, Tripp brought the glass to his lips. He took a sip then held it out to her again. “It’s good. Trust me.”
She scoffed, but this time she accepted the drink. He twisted around so he could stand beside her as they took in the party. He’d been surprised that she hadn’t immediately darted off to spend time with Serenity, but seeing as the bride-to-be was currently dancing with Reese, that outcome would have been difficult.
Tripp took another sip of his own drink before glancing over to Wendy again. She hadn’t tasted the beverage in her hands yet and a small part of him was tempted to just tell her that he’d been the one to make it. He wanted to know what she thought. He was all too aware of the unspoken rules surrounding sweet, iced tea in the south. Living there for a few years had taught him well.
He nudged her, his elbow bumping hers. “Come on, sweetness. Don’t leave me hanging.”
Wendy cut a look at him then glanced to her drink. “No offense, but sweet tea is… special to me.”
Biting back a smile, Tripp did his best to control his features so he appeared completely oblivious to her. “Oh? I figured you’d like it so that’s why I brought you some.”
She nodded, her finger tracing the rim. “Back home only the best tea makers are allowed to bring it to a gathering like this. Thanks for the thought, but…” her cheeks filled with color again. “It hits a little close to home. I’d rather not?—”
“Oh, I get it,” he mused. “Sweet tea has to be approved by someone higher up in order for it to be served. And you don’t think the caterers know what they’re doing, right?”
Wendy grimaced. “That sounds a little stuck up, doesn’t it?”
He inched closer, slanting his head so he could whisper to her. “Lucky for you, this tea is authentic. Someone who’s spent time in Georgia knows their stuff.”
She turned so suddenly, her nose nearly collided with his own. Surprise was all over the two of them, but Wendy collected herself first. “Really? Was it Sammie? I heard she grew up there.”
Slowly, Tripp shook his head. “Well Sammie is from Alabama and Caleb went to school in Alabama and I’ll have to give them props. Alabama folks do love their sweet tea and they do a good job with it. But someone else perfected the beverage.”
