Catching sight of Ava, Leah, and me, Phoebe rushes across the room, attacking us with hugs.
“Gee, why are you so excited?” Leah jokes.
“Come with me, ladies. I need to introduce you to your groomsmen. My sister is, of course, with Serapion, since she is the maid of honor. Leah, you’re with Tate, Ava you're with Darius, Olive you’re with Taurus, and Liz you’re with Angus. But I guess you all already know that,” Phoebe is speaking a mile a minute, “Tate! This is Leah. Be a gentleman and get to know her.”
In a whirlwind, she pairs off the other two, leaving me for last.
“Angus, hey, I want to introduce you to someone,” she says, dragging me to the massive minotaur hanging out in the corner. He looks at her with a small smile, but does not look in my direction.
“Elizabeth Capitan, this is Angus Del Toro, Thoreau’s youngest brother. Angus, this is Liz. We are good friends and she also was my principal for years, before I made the career change.”
“Nice to meet you,” the hulking mass of muscle says to me, his deep voice vibrating through my body and down into my pussy.
Shaking his hand, my entire arm buzzes with a warm electricity, but I also notice that while he glances at me, he then looks quickly away again. I glance at Phoebe, who mouths, “He’s shy.”
OK, I can work with shyness.
The staff comes in and tells us they will serve us soon. The table is decorated with beautiful summer flowers, plus each setting has a beach-themed name plate. I am sitting next to my groomsman, which makes sense.
Waiting for the appetizer to be served, I attempt to start up some small talk.
“So, do you enjoy working on the truffle farm?”
“Yes.” is the response I get.
Alright, Liz, you have worked with children. You know yes and no questions can be a deadend.
“Do you have a specific job on the farm?”
“I’m more of a jack of all trades.”
Staring up at him, I realize Angus is not going to elaborate. As I attempt to think of a better question, the servers come around with pan-seared sea scallops covered in brown butter sauce and micro-greens, causing me to get lost in devouring them for a minute.
Sitting back in the chair, savoring the flavors in my mouth, I say, “That tastes like something my aunt would cook.”
Angus looks down at me, giving a perfunctory smile. Stubborn, I continue.
“She owns the Little Shop of Delicacies in Branwen Beach. I believe your farm does business with her.”
A brief flicker of interest passes his eggplant-colored eyes, and he says, “Jeanine is your aunt? She’s a cool lady.”
Grinning, I absentmindedly touch his arm, saying, “Yes! She makes so many things with your truffles.”
I watch Angus’s skin turn a bright shade of crimson while his lips tighten into a thin line, and he looks down at his plate that’s being taken away by a server. What the hell did I say? Or was it that electricity from the touch? I wonder why that keeps happening.
Not knowing how to prolong this torture, I turn to Leah across from me and join in her conversation about the latest Marvel movie. While going off on my love for Mary Jane, I feel like I am being watched. Turning, I catch Angus looking at me, so I give him a smile. What he does with his face may have been an attempt at a smile back, but he quickly looks away and I watch the crimson shade on his face return, plus also color his ears.
Dinner is an absolutely divine seafood risotto. While we eat, Phoebe and Thoreau’s officiant goes over the rundown of the ceremony. We will do a quick practice after dinner, but it isn’t anything elaborate. While the woman speaks, I sense an increasing tension coming from Angus next to me.
Here I have been beyond excited to meet him for the last several months, but it’s apparent this is absolute hell for him. Is it me? Maybe he expected someone more interesting to interact with him? Not that he’s even given me a fricken chance.
Maybe he’s just an asshole.
Quietly stewing in my annoyance, a seasonal fruit tart covered in whipped mascarpone perks up my mood when it's placed in front of my face.
“Mmm, this is good,” Angus says, giving me a slight nod but not actually looking at me.
“Yes.” is all I bother saying.
