“You were walking where I was trying to drive,” he said.
She made a disgusted sound in her throat and moved to brush past him, but he stepped into her path, not bothering to remove his shades as he studied her. After a moment, he snapped his fingers. “Thea’s friend.”
“Mabel’s boss,” she spat back.
“God, I love how much she hates me.” His smirk matched his patrician features. Although he was blond, he wasn’t a friendly breed like William. He was an Afghan hound, all sleek and arrogant and pointy-nosed.
“Faith Fox,” he said, clearly pleased with himself for remembering. “You grew up rich, right?”
Faith’s demand for an apology died on her lips at his non sequitur, and she glanced down at herself. Nothing about her said rich, from the frayed hem of her jeans to her BUILD T-shirt and marigold cardigan.
“Rich? Me?”
Brandon shrugged. “I can smell it on you. You grew up with money.” He raised a lazy hand, pointing from her head down to her toes. “You take care of your skin. Your hair’s shiny. Your accessories cost more than the rest of your outfit.”
She glanced down at her Chloé ballet flats and Louis Vuitton Neverfull tote, grudgingly impressed that he’d recognized the most expensive items on her body. Some lessons from childhood had stuck with her, including the durability of quality leather goods, so she’d become an expert thrift-store hunter and outlet-mall gatherer.
“Also,” Brandon continued, “my dick seems interested in getting to know you, and it always sniffs out women of quality.”
“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Does talking about your dick sniffing things generally work for you?”
“You’d be surprised.” Then his smirk disappeared, all his amused arrogance draining away. “Your father.”
His whiplash shift to serious left her unbalanced, and when he removed his sunglasses to reveal piercing blue eyes, she studied them to see if this was more bored rich-guy bullshit.
“What about my father?” she asked cautiously.
“Do you get along?”
Faith had a meeting to get to, but something about his tone kept her feet rooted in place. “No.”
That pulled a small smile from him. “So maybe that’s just how it is with rich daddies.” Tears suddenly collected along his lower eyelids, and he sucked in a ragged breath.
“Um, everything okay?” She edged closer, still uncertain what she was dealing with. Just in case, she extended her hand to pat him on the arm or catch him if he was about to topple over.
“Mine’s dead.”
Faith sucked in a breath, her hand falling to her side. “I’m… God, I’m so sorry.”
“Last week.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I wasn’t there. He didn’t want me there.”
He said the last part mostly to himself, and Faith didn’t haveanyresponse to that, although she was suddenly close to tears herself. Because she understood. God, how she understood.
They were strangers, yet grief was grief, and she only hesitated a moment before stepping forward, intending to hug him. But he stiffened as she drew near, as if everything in him rejected her attempt at sympathy, so she stayed put. The only sound was his harsh breathing and the rustle of the orange and yellow leaves on the trees at the edge of the parking lot.
Although she wasn’t a natural with the kids who came into BUILD, she did know that a well-placed question could sometimes unlock words that needed to get out in the open. “Did you spend your life disappointing him?” she asked gently. “Or did you spend your life succeeding in ways he didn’t appreciate?”
“Both.” The word was bitter. “I hated him.” His voice cracked. “I loved him.”
Then almost as quickly as his walls had crumbled, he exhaled shakily and slipped back behind his arrogant mask. His nostrils flared as he pantomimed raising a glass. “Here’s to us poor little rich kids.”
She followed his lead and clinked his pretend drink against hers, feeling a little guilty at being so relieved that he’d pulled himself back from the brink. Vulnerability didn’t sit well on those elegant features.
“So can I buy you a real drink sometime?” He smirked at her, and she scoffed.
“Oh, I’msonot sleeping with you.”
He raised his brows. “I don’t recall asking you to.”
