Page 30 of The Kissing Part
We tell her our order, except Owen, who says, “I need to talk to Frankie.”
Mackenzie goes to the bar to put in the drink order.
I give Harper a wry look.
“What?”
“You’re purposely trying to make him mad.”
She waves that away. “The only way to keep an overbearing older brother in his place is to stand your ground. He was butting in. Obviously, you’re fine.”
I lean close. “So is this the part where you give me advice about my chances with him?” This was, of course, the entire reason they invited me to the party, and she just drove him away.
“That was Mackenzie’s idea,” Harper says. “I can tell you right now you don’t have a chance with him. He’s a wounded bear, and it would take something big, I mean huge, to distract him long enough from his love wound to open up again.”
“I apologized. More than once.”
“Sometimes sorry’s not enough.”
My gut churns. I glance across the room, and my gaze collides with his. He’s watching me, probably to protect me, not because he’s interested. Well, I’m not going to bang my head against the wall. He let me know loud and clear to stay away both in word and action. That’s what that jerky behavior was about, a big back-off sign from a wounded bear. I should let him go hibernate and not risk poking the bear again. Enough with the wounded-bear metaphor!
“Where’s Mackenzie with our drinks?” I ask.
We both turn toward the bar to see Mackenzie talking to Nathan Brooks, Harper’s archnemesis. They grew up together since he lived nearby. I don’t know why she can’t stand him, only that they were once best friends. When I met him, he was best friends with Owen.
“What’s he doing here?” Harper grumbles. “This isn’t a work event.”
Nathan takes two of the drinks and follows Mackenzie over to us.
“Shit,” Harper says under her breath.
“Harper,” Nathan says blandly, setting a glass of red wine in front of her.
“Nathan,” she says equally blandly. “Thank you for delivering my drink. You remember Shayla.”
“Who could forget you.” He gives me a warm smile. “Nice of you to slum it with us. I’m sure you have many star-studded invitations.”
I smile. “Yes, a lot of work-related obligations, but I love it here. I think it would be awesome to live a safe, quiet life in Clover Park rather than be hidden away in a hotel room somewhere, always moving with the project.”
Mackenzie gives me my margarita and has a mojito for herself. “Nathan was just saying how we need to liven up Clover Park, get more single people to move here. It’s mostly families. A great place to grow up, but a little too quiet.”
Just then, Owen’s aunt Madison taps a microphone for attention. We all look over to see her standing on a chair in the dining area, her husband, Parker, standing by her side. His dark hair is cut short, his jaw clean-shaven. He keeps a hand on her hip, probably to keep her from falling.
Madison looks at her son Michael. “Dad and I just want to say congratulations, Michael. We’re so damn proud of you.” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head. “I willnotcry on such a happy occasion.”
Everyone laughs.
“Softie!” Jake yells.
Madison ignores that. “We love you and know you’ll do great things.”
Everyone cheers and applauds.
Parker helps her down from her chair. Michael walks over to hug his much shorter mom.
Claire takes the microphone and says with a husky laugh, “I’m not going to climb up there, but want to add my congratulations to Michael and also to Rafael. Raf, you followed your heart studying photography, and the art you’re creating is beautiful. We’re proud to call you son.”
Rafael looks visibly moved. “Thanks, Mom.”
