Page 52 of The Wedding Engagement

Liv smiled. “I overheard them before saying that you look like Regé-Jean Page.”

Arran frowned. “Who?”

“You know.” She leaned closer, bringing her mouth close to his ear. If his playing dumb brought her into this proximity, then he’d pretend to never understand anything ever again.

“The Duke of Hastings,” she finished, pulling back to give him a knowing look.

He gave her a bemused smile in return. “Who?”

Liv rolled her eyes. “He’s an actor. He played the Duke of Hastings on the first season ofBridgerton.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” he replied, loving the exasperated expression on her face.

She grabbed his phone and fiddled with it, passing it back with an image on-screen. Arran studied the photo of a handsome dude in a smart fitted emerald-green suit, a matching waistcoat under his jacket. “Nice. My suit’s darker, though, and my waistcoat isn’t in a matching material.”

Liv laughed, bumping his shoulder. “Not youroutfit. Your face, dumbass.”

He smiled. “I suppose I’ll take that. The guy is good-looking.”

“And hot,” Liv said, her eyes widening as she finished the last syllable and her face staining pink again.

He couldn’t help his smile morphing into a grin. “As in,he’shot, or I am?”

She cleared her throat and he found himself enjoying her discomfort. Recovering, she flicked a wave of dark hair from her face, her chin raised in defiance. “Both of you.”

He held her gaze, his pulse ramping up. She was looking at him like she’d been having her own sexy fantasies. But could that be right when only a couple of minutes ago she had been telling him he should consider getting back together with his ex?

Her phone buzzed and her whole body jolted, eyes wide with what looked like fear.

“Whoa there,” he said, touching her hand in concern. “It’s just a message.”

She was staring at her phone on the table as if it were a poisonous snake.

An anxious feeling circled his gut at the wide-eyed look on her face. “Liv? What’s up?” He shifted closer as she leaned over to lift the phone.

Shuddering, she shook her head. “It’s…” Ducking her head, she glanced around. “It’sfuckingDave.”

Arran couldn’t help but smile that she’d checked the coast was clear before swearing in public, though this place was pretty posh and they probably didn’t get that many expletive-shouting patrons. His smile quickly fell away when he registered the name she’d mentioned. “Your dad? What the hell doeshewant?”

She lifted the phone between them and they huddled round it, Arran absorbing the privilege that she was allowing him to read it with her.

Douchebag Dave

Why haven’t you replied? I’m your father, Olivia. Show some fucking respect.

Normally the fact that Liv had her dad in her phone as “Douchebag Dave” would’ve tickled him, but the nasty words on-screen left him cold and nauseated. He clenched his fist. “What’s he talking about?”

She sighed and crumpled against him, as if she were deflating, and he put his arm around her. “He messaged before, last weekend. And I deleted it.”

Lifting a hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear. This was a big deal. Dave never contacted the twins, and now he was messaging Liv multiple times after recently speaking to Sam? “What did it say?”

She shrugged. “Asking about Sam’s wedding.”

Frowning, he lifted her chin to meet her eyes. “That’s it? Nothing about you?”

Something shifted in her gaze and he could tell he’d tuned in to an important point. “Nope,” she replied. “Not a sausage.”

“Douchebag,” Arran said under his breath.

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