Page 18 of Falling for the Bad Boy
I held tight to Oliver’s hand as I led him up the sidewalk. He trailed behind, clearly reluctant. I didn’t blame him. He’d signed on for dinner, not a night of meeting the family. But having him with me would hopefully prevent my parents and siblings from lashing out. He’d be a buffer. A good-looking, charming, mysterious buffer that would hopefully divert questions about my business venture to finding out more about him instead.
I wasn’t ready to come clean about my plans to my cautious, conservative family. They’d only try to talk me out of it and stick their noses in where they weren’t welcome. Once I’d opened for business and had some success under my belt, I’d be thrilled to field their questions. Until then, I needed to hold them at bay. Before they ruined everything.
“You didn’t tell us you were bringing a guest,” Mother said, lifting a hand toward Oliver. “It’s always nice to meet a friend of Trinity’s.”
He glanced at me before taking her hand. “I’m Oliver, it’s nice to meet you.”
Her smile reflected the impression of warm hospitality she’d perfected over the years—the ideal secret weapon to my father’s career aspirations. No telling how much of his success could be solely attributed to her ability to make anyone feel comfortable and welcome.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oliver.” She tucked his hand into the crook of her arm. “Please come in. I hope Trinity warned you the whole family is here tonight.”
I followed her as she led Oliver up the sidewalk toward the imposing front door of my childhood home. He glanced back at me, the look on his face unreadable. He was either mentally cursing me for setting him up or already planning some sort of twisted revenge. Either way, it would be worth it. Facing my family alone just wasn’t an option. Not yet.
Oliver looked left, then right, then overhead as he passed through the front doors and into the spotless foyer. I tried to see the place through his eyes. It was like walking into Macy’s condo but on a much grander scale. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sending points of light around the two-story entryway. Period antiques gleamed from constant polishing and the ornate double staircase stretched from both sides of the room up to a central landing before ending at the second floor.
How many hopeful suitors had stood at the base of those stairs, waiting for one of my sisters to make a grand entrance? I’d never played into that scene, choosing to meet my dates out instead of having them pick me up at home. Oliver was the first guy I’d invited over, another reason I was hoping his presence would keep the conversation from dwelling on my business plans.
Mother led him through the sitting room, past the formal living room and out onto the patio. Conversation skidded to a halt as my brothers, sisters, their spouses and their kids stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. For a moment, my lungs seized, and my heart thudded with regret for throwing him to the wolves.
But then Dad turned, his regular glass of scotch in hand, that familiar calculating grin on his face. “Who’s this?”
“Trinity, why don’t you introduce your friend?” Mother asked.
Stepping next to Oliver, I reached up and set a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone, this is Oliver. He’s a friend who’s studying here from New Zealand. I hope you’ll make him feel welcome.”
Dad approached first. “Oliver, we’re glad you’re joining us. I’m Trinity’s father, Patrick Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Oliver shook my father’s hand, then my oldest brother’s, then my sister’s husband’s, and so on until he’d officially met the entire family.
I waited until he’d met everyone, including my nieces and nephews who’d been well trained in my mother’s style of formal introductions, then grabbed his arm and steered him toward the bar set up on the patio. “How about a drink?”
He faked a smile and muttered in my ear. “What the hell is this? I thought we were going to dinner?”
“My mother hires a professional chef to come in and cook for our big family dinners. I swear you’ll get a better meal here tonight than you would at any five-star restaurant.”
“That’s not the point. You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting your whole family tonight.”
“Scotch, vodka or gin?” I stepped behind the bar and filled a glass with ice.
He shook his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Gin, it is.” I mixed up two of my customary gin and tonics and handed him one. “You might want to down this real quick so I can get you another before we sit down to dinner.”
His hand closed around my wrist. “You either come clean with me or I’m leaving.”
The look in his eyes told me he meant it. I sighed. “Fine. In case you haven’t noticed, my family is full of high achievers. I haven’t exactly filled them in on my plans for the warehouse, and if I showed up alone tonight that’s all anyone would want to talk about.”
“So you brought me instead?” He let go of my wrist and picked up his glass.
“Something like that. I figured the sexy accent, your boyish charm… maybe it would be a good distraction.” As I said it out loud, I realized how stupid and manipulative it sounded.
“Why not skip dinner altogether if you didn’t want to come?”
“That’s a valid question.” I nodded. A really valid question.
He took a sip of his drink and waited. “So?”
“It’s hard to explain. When I said I’m the black sheep, I wasn’t lying. I’m the fuck up of the family. See my brother over there?” I pointed to my oldest brother, Randall.
