Aside from a quick glance or glare, everyone ignores her. Everyone except Wylder, who doesn’t look away from her approach. She’s gliding toward us like she’s a fucking ballerina or something. I could never be that elegant.
Another reason why I’m not good enough for Wylder.
“Hello, Candace,” Wylder says stiffly, standing to greet her. I feel a tug of jealousy as he nears her, but it evaporates when I observe their greeting.
To call it an air kiss would be generous. If Wylder’s lips were any farther from her skin, he’d be in a different room.
He returns to his seat abruptly, leaving her standing. Her eyesnarrow before she pastes on a fake-as-fuck smile. “So glad to be here again.”
I’m not the only one who snorts. Pretty much everyone at the table does. We all know bullshit when we smell it, and Candace reeks of it.
My eyes sweep over her outfit. She’s far too overdressed for this dinner. She looks like she’s on her way to a gala.
I glance down at my torn jeans and the t-shirt that’s too big, hanging off my shoulder, and I wonder if I should have changed. But then I take in everyone else and realize that Candace just sucks.
She likes the attention.
She likes to stand out.
She thinks it makes her better than everyone else.
I hate her on principle and for how she treated Ansel. It only has to do with Wylder just a little bit.
I curl my feet around the legs of the chair as she approaches. If she wanted this seat, she should have shown up on time.
Candace stops next to Wylder, and her eyes flick from him to me. When I make no move to stand and offer the seat to her, she purses her lips. “I believe you’re in my chair.”
I take another sip of my wine and shrug. “Nope. This is mine. Sorry.”
I wait for Wylder to say something. After all, she’s his “girlfriend.”
But he stays silent.
Candace seems to be waiting for the same thing, but after a minute of total silence, she cracks. “Wylder?—”
“I don’t want to deal with an argument tonight.” He cuts her off abruptly. “There’s a seat at the other end of the table. You’ll be perfectly comfortable there.”
Her head turns in Samson’s direction, who’s staring daggers at her. Actually, his literal dagger makes an appearance, his hand slamming it into the table next to him. The table rattles slightly, and Cade chuckles.
“Wylder,” she hisses, “you can’t be serious.”
He raises a brow at Samson. “Behave, please. We have company.”
Samson rolls his eyes before pocketing his dagger. I notice that Wylder doesn’t bother telling me to behave. He probably knows it won’t make any difference.
Still, Candace doesn’t move. “This is very rude. I’m your guest. I’m sure your father raised you better than this.”
Wylder tenses, and I see red. “No more rude than you being late and failing to greet everyone here properly.”
Candace’s gaze narrows on me. She cocks her head like a predator, wondering what manner of beast is sitting before her.
I just smile. I know exactly what I am, and unlike Wylder, I have no desire to hide it.
“Do you need directions?” I offer sweetly.
Her nostrils flare, and her ruby-red lips thin. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Candace, just sit the fuck down,” Cade says before I can respond. “Samson will behave. You’re holding up dinner.”
