Page 125 of Holiday Hopefuls
They must be doing that twin communication thing because understanding immediately floods Chris’s features. “Right,” he nods. Chris turns back to me. “I danced with you that last time Aaron’s band played at Theo’s,” he points out.
Laughter tumbles from my lips. “And you hated every moment of it.”
Chris wiggles his nose around like he’s suddenly dealing with some serious sinus pressure. “Hey, I’m all for some family bonding.”
“Sounds great.” Ian squeezes my shoulders before pulling out my chair and dragging me to my feet.
I spin around to face him. “You’re not even in this family.”
“Come on, Cal. Connie’s orders.” My best friend grins, guiding me toward the dance floor.
“And you’re not even the Fairchild who’s in love with her,” I grumble, too low for anyone other than Ian to hear.
He doesn’t disappoint, bursting into laughter as we move away from the table.
My siblings follow, watching us with a little too much interest for my liking.
“What’s wrong?” Ian asks above the pulsing music.
Frowning, I nod back in the direction of my family. While certainly still trailing along behind us, they whisper amongthemselves like scientists on the verge of some kind of breakthrough. “They’re being really weird.”
He laughs. “Aren’t they always?”
“Yeah, but not like this.” Grimacing, I nearly run right into my dad and the other partners, with Prescott nowhere in sight. “Oh, sorry Dad.”
My father chuckles, champagne nearly sloshing onto his tie. Clearly, he’s a few glasses deep. “I guess the others enlisted your help?” he asks Ian.
Raising my brows, I glance between them.
Ian lifts a shoulder. “Just doing my part to make sure Callie enjoys tonight, is all.” Mr. MacCallum and Mr. de Luksa look plenty amused as my friend steers us away and into the heart of the crowd.
“I’m a little surprised Prescott wasn’t with them,” I muse. “Being a partner is so important to him that, anytime Dad and the others are together, Prescott’s somewhere close by.”
Ian hmms. “Maybe Goldie needed to go to the bathroom or something.”
“Maybe. But she normally asks Mom or one of us.”
“Well, I doubt Prescott’s career is in any danger. So I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Just as we’re nearly to the center of the dance floor, a brilliant flash of blonde catches my eye and I bring us to a crashing halt.
Literally.
Ian definitely crushes my toes in the process, cursing under his breath.
“Sorry, I just … did you see that?” Craning my neck, I try to see through the dense crowd. “I thought I just saw Blythe. Did she come with you?”
Ian’s dark brows knit together, lower lip jutting out. “Nope. It was just the parents, me and Aaron McGee in the car.”
I snort, grinning up at my friend. “He really hates it when you call him that.”
“I know,” he grins right back. “That’s what makes it fun.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
Ian juts his chin off to our right. “Over there dancing with some paralegal who’s been flirting with him all night.”
I wince. “How’s he doing with the whole, um … ”
