Stevie wasn’t joking when she warned me. These women are nuts. The shit they’ve been asking me must be heard to be believed.
“Don’t worry, Garrick,” Monica says, turning around and patting my hand. “I only have half an ear on your conversation, and I’m not easily shocked.” Monica and her friend spent fifteen minutes peppering me with questions while Stevie was surrounded by a fawning group of elderly women who clearly adores her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, reaching for the bottle of wine. I hold it up in front of Stevie’s mom. “Would you like a top off?”
“That would be wonderful.” Monica grabs Julie’s glass, holding both wineglasses out to me. “And you were right about this vintage. It’s delicious. I will be recommending this year to the restaurant manager at Sand Point when I’m on shift.”
“I’ll be starting work at the winery the week after my exams finish. Let me organize to send you a sample of this and some of our new-world wines, and you can sweet-talk the management into bumping up their order.” I fill both glasses up to the halfway mark.
“Sounds like a plan.” She winks. “Throw in a couple of bottles for yours truly, and we have a deal.”
“Put in a good word with your daughter, and I’ll keep you permanently supplied,” I fire back with a grin.
Her smile is wide as she hands a wineglass to her friend. “I’m only finding more reasons to like you, Garrick, and I was already sold. Any guy who puts that big of a smile on my daughter’s face is worthy of my seal of approval.”
We all look over at Stevie as if it was planned. She’s sitting on the other couch, deep in conversation with her nana.
“She is positively glowing,” Hadley agrees, smiling before narrowing her eyes at me. “You better not have knocked her up.”
Fucking hell.
I’m unsure what to make of Stevie’s childhood best friend. I don’t know if she’s being outrageous to put on a show, if she has no filter and is just always like this, or she’s testing me to see if I’m good enough for her best friend. Maybe it’s a combination of those things. I’d like to point out sex would have to be involved to knock Stevie up and, given how we haven’t so much as kissed yet, it’s impossible, but I won’t be rude, and what has or hasn’t happened between Stevie and me is private.
Monica almost chokes on her wine. “Sheesh, Hadley. Anyone would think you don’t know your best friend. Stevie will probably make poor Garrick triple bag it before he gets anywhere near her lady parts.”
I’m not easily embarrassed, but I’d quite happily sink into the ground and disappear if it was an option.
“Oh dear,” someone with a soft lilting voice says. “Have they been terrorizing you?”
I look up at Stevie and her nana, thrilled at the timely intervention.
I scramble to my feet in record time as if my ass is on fire. The women behind me snicker, clearly enjoying my obvious discomfort. I’m most definitely of the view this was a test, and I only hope I passed. I clear my throat. “It’s been interesting, ma’am.” Stepping aside, I gesture toward the couch. “Take my seat.”
“Nonsense, and I told you to call me Betsy,” she says, waggling her finger in her daughter’s face.
Stevie’s nana said hello earlier but otherwise was a silent observer while her daughter and Stevie’s best friend proceeded with their Spanish Inquisition.
“Scoot, missy,” she tells Monica. “You’ve tormented this young man enough for one night.” Her gaze flits to Hadley. “You too, little Miss Mischief.”
“Moi?” Hadley stands, looking the picture of innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please tell me you didn’t grill him on his sexual preferences or start a debate over biodiversity or the overexploitation of natural resources,” Stevie says, pursing her lips and eyeballing her friend.
“We were just getting to the end of the kink portion of the interrogation though it’s worth noting Garrick avoided answering the anal question.”
My cheeks heat in an uncharacteristic blush. I can’t believe she said that in front of Stevie’s nana. I don’t think it’s for show either. I get the sense these kinds of conversations occur naturally when Hadley is around.
“Anal is overrated,” Betsy says, scoffing and waving her hands around. “Unlike DP. Now that’s an entirely different conversation.”
I have a feeling my face is as red as a tomato and the sweat beads forming on my brow are visible.
Stevie is trying hard not to laugh. “I did try to warn you,” she says, resting her hand on my forearm.
“Your warning was lacking in detail,” I murmur in her ear as Monica, Julie, and Hadley walk away to mingle with the other guests. Thank fuck for small mercies.
“You survived,” she says, letting a giggle free. “I promise they’re not always quite that intense, but Hadley is unnaturally invested in my sex life, and I can’t promise she won’t get inappropriate again.”
Betsy pats the space beside her on the couch. “Come sit by me, Garrick, and don’t mind little Hadley. That one missed out on the sixties, and she’s determined to make up for it by living her best free-love high-spirited hippy life.”
