Layla laughed. “We’ll see what you say after the bill for the enormous wedding you two are going to be throwing comes in.”
“I don’t care. I’ll spend whatever she wants,” Hunter said loftily.
“He’s like a completely different person,” I told Layla.
She snickered.
“Play the room, Sebastian. You could find your happily ever after tonight.”
“I’m just here for the food,” I deflected.
Layla and Hunter went to talk to Evan Harrington while I snuck outside to one of the empty tables. I had never particularly liked these types of events and avoided them whenever I could.
Another server handed me a drink.
I took a sip then almost dropped the glass when a woman drawled, “Ooh, too bad he’s not in those boots. But at least he has champagne this time.”
It was that girl. Those ridiculous sunglasses were perched on top of the mountain of curls on her head. She had a drink in one hand and was balancing a plate piled high with food in the other. Her fat little horse had had an outfit change, and he was wearing a little tuxedo vest.
“Are you stalking me?” I demanded.
“I was invited,” she said, leaning over to nibble a bite of brisket off her overflowing plate. “Can’t you tell? I’m, like, totally high society!”
I glowered at her.This is the last time I allow Hunter to drag me to one of these miserable social events.
The girl slurped her drink, making me wince. “I’ll leave you alone to bask in your own sex appeal. But I just had to get something off my chest, and I’m really drunk and will probably regret this tomorrow, if I even remember it, but I just wanted to say…” She paused dramatically and then took another bite of the tower of food on her plate. “That I think it was sexist and very unfair for you to demean me as a horse girl when you parade around in those pants, which make your ass look incredibly amazing, by the way, and act all serious about your polo playing and your horses.”
“I’m into horses because it’s a sport,” I hissed at her. “There are rules and rankings. You’re into horses because it’s some sort of weird sexual fantasy.”
“I don’t want to sleep with a horse!” she yelled at me.
The few lone people outside looked in our direction.
“Keep it down,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I just want to sleep with you!” she said, blinking up at me in the dark. “Er…well, not, like, you in particular, but, like, someone like you in the outfit.”
There were titters from people walking toward the venue.
A redhead and a dark-haired woman ran up and grabbed the horse girl.
“We really should revert to male fashion in the regency period,” she insisted loudly as her friends tried to drag her off. “Those tight pants and the boots? Chef’s kiss.” Some of the champagne sloshed down her front, and a piece of brisket fell to the floor. The fat little horse gobbled it up.
“Oh my god,” I said.
“Fun fact!” the crazy girl said, fighting off another friend who was trying to cover her mouth.
“Stop talking, Amy,” her friend said, horrified.
“Fun fact, horses are opportunistic omnivores, and one at my granddad’s farm ate an entire baby chicken once.”
“Shh!”
“You shh,” Amy said, listing slightly and slipping out of her friend’s grasp then careening into me, spilling her food and drink all over my suit.
“Oops!” she slurred, pawing at my chest while I stood there, stunned. “I’ll totally lick all that barbeque sauce off you.”
Each of her friends took an arm then began to drag Amy off.
