Discipline.
He liked her already.
Not as a person.
As evidence.
Look what Drew brought home this year.
Not Casey with her red lipstick and too-loud laugh and her talent for making donors uncomfortable. Not some chaos girl with bad press attached. A quality girl. A polished girl. A Stanford athlete with a good family and perfect posture.
The kind of girl who made Drew look like he might finally be maturing out of football and into something useful.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, my stomach turned.
Beckett pushed off the bar and walked toward us.
“Drew didn’t mention you were this pretty.”
Isa’s smile sharpened by one degree.
“Drew mentions very little unless food or football is involved.”
Everett laughed.
Beckett looked delighted.
“Smart too.”
“She’s standing right here,” I said.
His eyes slid to me, lazy and amused.
“I noticed.”
The room chilled.
Isa stepped forward half a pace, not between us exactly, but enough to interrupt the line of violence building in my body.
“It’s a beautiful house,” she said.
Richard smiled like he had personally invented architecture.
“Thank you. Come. Let me show you around.”
“No,” I said.
All three Montgomery men looked at me.
Isa did too.
I forced my shoulders down.
“She’s tired. Flight was long. Her leg’s been bothering her. I’ll get her settled first.”
Richard’s gaze moved over me, assessing. Measuring tone. Deciding whether this was defiance worth punishing or concern he could spin into maturity.
