Page 31 of Hats off to Love

“And I see you brought a date,” he says. As his eyes shift to me, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Stokes releases my hand and wraps his arm around my shoulders to pull me in tight. Of course I go, partly out of wariness of this guy and partly because I know I need to play my part. Mine goes around his waist, his very firm waist.

“This is Rosie May, my girlfriend. Rosie, this is Dean Collier, the partner throwing the party tonight.”

Girlfriend.

Air conditioning from inside rushes past him as I hold my hand out, and goose bumps rise on my arm. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting us,” I say as politely as I can.

His cold hand wraps around mine, and it feels gross.

“Of course. Can’t imagine a firm get-together without Stokes attending. Although, I must admit, you are a surprise, my dear,” he says as he eyes me suspiciously.

“Well, if you give me an empty beer bottle, a few napkins, some Bacardi 151, and a lighter, I can be a whole lot more surprising,” I tell him, grinning.

Mr. Collier’s face morphs into confusion and then horror while I glance at Stokes and see one side of his mouth is twitching.

“Right.” He takes a step to the side. “Well do come in. The party is out back on the patio.”

Stokes thanks him as we make our way past, through the house, and to the outside bar.

“You kill me,” he whispers in my ear from behind as we stand in line, his hand moving to rest on my hip.

“Yeah, well you knew what you were getting yourself into when you invited me,” I say back as I look up into his face. His expression is one of consternation, and although the double lines are present, his gaze looks pleased.

“I did.”

We move a step forward, and the pressure from his fingertips sears through the fabric of my dress. The weather is mild, which makes for a pleasant evening, and in general, the party is very beautiful. Whoever he hired to decorate and cater has gone over the top, and in addition to spotting the bars set up at each end of the patio, my eyes have drifted to the table holding the canapes. Even from our spot in this line, they look delicious and are calling my name.

Over and over, people come up to us to say hello, though we try to keep to ourselves. It’s weird, because although this is a party and he sees most of these people every day in his office, it feels more like a forced fancy happy hour. People are here, but it’s clear that it’s out of obligation and not for fun. Then again, we are talking about lawyers—maybe they all share Stokes’s gleaming personality.

In attendance are three partners, quite a few associates, junior associates, staff, a handful of clients and potential clients, and then of course the significant others. There are only maybe a hundred people here, which means everyone is talking to everyone, and everyone seems to be talking to us—or should I say it’s me doing the talking. Other than pleasantries, Stokes is quiet with his dressed-in-all-black inscrutable look, forcing me to lead, and it’s quite aggravating.

I meet his junior associate, a guy named Christopher who’s been with the firm for ten months. I meet his secretary, who tells me she’s delighted to meet me as Stokes is such a mystery to everyone. And I meet Suzy Collier, the daughter and the apparent reason why I am here.

Just like her father, she’s startled to meet me, but that doesn’t stop her from touching Stokes’s arm, laughing at things he says that are not funny, and following us around like we’re the best of friends.

In one of the rare moments we’re alone, I pinch him in the side. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have come?” he asks, his hazel beams scanning my face, painting my lips and making me feel all twisted inside.

“Probably. After all, I did agree to this sham, and I find it amusing to watch you suffer. How long has she been like this?” I glance past his shoulder and see her talking to a few of the other younger people here. She’s tall, wearing a skintight beige dress, and quite frankly looks like someone I would expect him to be with.

“Since I started, although then I didn’t have to see her much as she had just started law school. Now she works at the firm, and it’s awful. Most days, the way Dean looks at me, I think he only hired me because of who I am. He’s continually pushing her my way, and Christopher has had to intercede on my behalf several times.”

I find this interesting. In all the years I have known Stokes, people have approached him more in a state of awe than one of determination. His birthright has given him prestige that most people crave, and I’ve certainly never seen anyone try to handle him. He’s not someone who tolerates this sort of behavior, from anyone, and it confuses me.

“Do you like working for this firm?” I ask him. I’ve never even considered that Stokes might not like what he does or the path he’s chosen.

He lets out a sigh and drops his gaze between us while running his hand down my arm to wrap his hand around mine. All evening he’s touched me in one way or another, and while it should feel strange, it really doesn’t.

“I don’t know. I did at first, but now . . .” He trails off. I hear what he isn’t saying and am pretty sure I understand why he feels this way.

“That explains why he calls you son,” I say with a tone that lets him know I don’t approve, and he presses his lips into a flat line. “But Stokes . . .” I look up so his eyes meet mine. Regardless of our history or how we feel about each other, in the big picture of life, these are truths he needs to hear. “You are an incredibly smart and dedicated guy. Your name aside, they are very lucky to have you.”

Tiny spots of color dot the sharp edges of his cheekbones as he frowns and his brows pull down.

“What?” I ask, my gaze dancing back and forth between his eyes.