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“To what do we owe this pleasure, Miss Honeycutt?” Shep asked.

“I invited her,” Nessa said. “We’ve had quite the morning, haven’t we, Shay? She’s just a lovely girl.” She looked at the men. “Isn’t she lovely?”

Shep muttered an indecipherable string of syllables, and Cam breathed out a barely audible “Yeah.”

While I stammered a thanks, Shep took his opportunity to greet his wife, stepping toward her and twining a finger around one perfect, golden wave. Their eyes met, and while their skin didn’t touch, something about that eye contact was physical, like they were making love right in front of us. Face warm, I turned aside, but out of my peripheral vision, Shep leaned down and kissed Nessa’s cheek. “Hello, my love.”

She murmured something in return, and the couple broke apart slowly, as if it hurt to do so.

“This is fortunate timing,” Nessa said, a tad breathless. “We were just finishing up, but I dismissed Darren after he dropped Shay off. Camden, do be a dear and escort our lovely girl home.”

“Vanessa,” Shep said, jaw twitching.

Not wanting to make waves, I shook my head. “It’s fine. I can get a rideshare.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nessa turned toward her son, adopting the same expression all Southern mamas used to threaten their kids into obeying.

Cam ducked his head and smiled. “Of course, Mom.”

My heart bumped up to some strange rhythm that surely couldn’t sustain life. Heedless of the older couple, I drifted toward him, irresistibly drawn into his dangerous web.

He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

I hooked a hand around the crook of his elbow, and we faced his parents.

“Thank you for having me, Nessa,” I said, surprised at the normalcy of my voice. “It was wonderful.”

Nessa glowed. “The pleasure was all mine, dear. I’ll see you Saturday.”

Shep merely nodded in my direction, unwilling to meet my eyes.

“This way,” Cam directed me deeper into the house.

Thirty-Three

“What did she mean about Saturday?” Cam asked.

We passed through room after room—kitchen, living room, sitting room, library, TV room. “She invited me to some fancy party. Says she wants to help me learn to schmooze.”

He glanced at me. “Is it the Legendary Party?”

“I think that’s what she called it.”

A smile graced his mouth, but he said nothing, directing me toward a door that opened into an enormous garage. My mouth dropped. I didn’t know the makes or models, but I could feel the money in the vehicles lining the space.

“Why are there so many?” I whispered, frozen in the doorway.

Two steps below me, he looked over the cars as if seeing them for the first time. “Uh. Well. I’m not sure which answer would satisfy you.”

“Maybe try the truth?” I crossed my arms, attempting a stern playfulness.

He shrugged. “Isn’t it human nature to always be wanting more?”

I once took a class on cognitive neuroscience in undergrad that covered the seven core instincts in mammals, one of which was a dopamine-powered need to always be seeking more. Yes, it was natural to want things, but I wondered how much good the money that had bought these cars would have done for those in need.

But it wasn’t my money. The Shepherds could spend it however they wanted.

Even if the way they wanted to spend it was stupid.