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“Twenty for VIP,” Cam said, as if spending twenty thousand dollars to eat crappy food together at a special table was a totally normal thing to do.

My mouth dropped, but I tried to remind myself it was for charity, reining in the shock in my voice when I asked, “How many are at our table?”

Cam glanced at me, clearly reading the borderline shrill panic in my tone. “Six.”

The butterflies in my stomach all took a hit of meth. They probably got it from that guy who lived two trailers down from my mom. Because that was where I came from—a meth-den trailer park—and someone had paid more than $3000 for me to sit at a table with them tonight.

No, not someone.

The Shepherds.

I pressed a hand over my eyes and took a deep breath. No one in the car noticed.

At least, that was what I thought until Ivy’s hand gripped my wrist briefly in a quick show of support. I sent her a small smile.

A few minutes later, we pulled into a valet line at the event space in Buckhead. The valet attendants helped us out of the car, and Cam took my arm to escort me inside. Ben did the same for Ivy, though she appeared to begrudge him for it.

An entryway of checkered floors, purple walls, and ornate silver chandeliers led into a large ballroom. Round tables were spread throughout the room, cloaked in blue cloths with silver accents. A white dance floor glowed with light in the middle of the room, and on one side, a live band played some big band tune.

The place was already full of people, and servers in all black weaved throughout the crowd, offering lowball drinks. One stopped before us as we entered. “Would you like to try the signature cocktail?”

“Oh.” I perked up. Alcohol might give me a little liquid courage. “What is it?”

“It’s called a New Old Fashioned,” he said.

Bennett accepted one at once, but my mind glitched. I looked at Cam, who gifted me a cocky smile. “Told you I had some thoughts.”

I took the glass he offered. “But⁠—”

“They requested this as their signature cocktail. Here’s your public debut, Honeycutt.” A giant smile spread across my face, and he gestured toward the center of the room. “Let’s find our seats.”

We followed Ivy and Ben toward the fancier tables in the middle, the ones with the RESERVED signs. I spotted Nessa and Shep sitting side-by-side and speaking in low voices. As I watched, Shep lifted his mouth in the same half-smile his son had thrown countless times at me, his eyes focused unwaveringly on his wife. Nessa’s answering grin was full of promise, and she touched a soft hand to his cheek.

My face warmed at once. “Your parents are⁠—”

“Excruciating to be around and sometimes a little gross?”

I laughed. “I suppose being the only child of that might be a lot.”

“Something like that.”

I tugged on his wrist before we reached the table, and he turned to look at me. “You grew up in a stable home with two parents who love you. Be grateful, Shepherd.”

His gaze took on a new depth, vibrant with curiosity and perhaps a touch of shame. “I am.” Then he grimaced. “But I’ve also caught them in flagrante on our kitchen table…where I used to eat my cereal. So⁠—”

Giggles erupted at the picture in my head. “No more Lucky Charms then?”

He brushed beneath my chin with his thumb. “Surely you know enough by now to realize I’m a Honey Nut Cheerios man.”

It wasn’t even suggestive, but blood rushed to my cheeks anyway, and he smirked like Goal Achieved.

The older couple had separated once we arrived, and Bennett and Ivy claimed seats on opposite sides of the table, leaving the two across from his parents for us. Nessa smiled as we approached.

Shep stood politely, nodding at me. “Miss Honeycutt.” Then, to Cam, he added, “Looking sharp, son.”

Cam pulled out my chair, grinning at his father. “You clean up pretty good yourself, old man.”

“Shay, dear,” Nessa said as I sat. “It’s so good to see you.”