Page 50 of Holiday Hopefuls
I paste a brilliant smile on my face. “In Callie’s classroom.”
“Why were you in Calloway’s class?” he demands.
Connie sets her jaw and whispers something in Chris’s ear, a look of contrition coming over him. The two of them have some kind of unspoken conversation over a span of ten seconds before Connie looks back at Callie and I and nods for us to continue.
Interesting.
“He came to help with the Halloween party,” Callie offers on my behalf.
My hand automatically reaches for hers, unbidden relief crashing through me when she takes it.
Ira Rutherford straightens in his seat. “Do you have a child, Oliver?”
Callie tenses beside me. As if she’s about to find out I have a kid hidden away somewhere.
Biting the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile, I look back at her father. “No, sir. But my business partner’s daughter is in that class, and I heard they needed volunteers. Since I work with children regularly, I thought I’d lend a hand.”
“So you have only known each other about a month, then?” Lillian asks.
I look down at Callie and answer, “Yes ma’am.”
“And you’re happy?”
Callie snaps wide eyes to Lillian. “Mother,” she warns.
“Well, I only ask because we thought Alexander was happy with you, but then it was suddenly over.”
“That’s because he’s a jerk,” Callie grumbles.
Chris smirks. “Maybe he didn’t want to marry a glorified babysitter,” he says to Callie, “Which is all teachers really are.” He yelps when Connie pinches him.
“You can tell a lot about a guy by who he hangs out with,” I shrug. “I’m sure his friends aren’t the best, either, then.”
Across the room, Chris’s face matches his hair. “He’smyfriend. I'm the one who suggested they go out in the first place.” His tone is restrained, but it’s evident his temper is brewing beneath the surface.
“So you’re why Callie doesn’t date much?” I smirk, turning to my girlfriend. “Thanks for giving me a chance, my hot cocoa connoisseur.”
“You’re all-around better than Alex,” Callie grins back at me, only boosting my ego. “It’s no contest.”
I turn to Callie’s oldest brother, ignoring Chris’s fiery glare. “Prescott, you’re a partner at the firm? That’s impressive for your age.”
He nods. “It’s been a lot of hard work, certainly.”
“And nepotism,” Chris smirks.
Prescott narrows his eyes at his younger brother. “But I think it’s been worth it,” he continues.
“What kind of law do you practice?”
“We have partners that specialize in different areas,” Ira interjects, “but Prescott and I tend to focus on intellectual property and corporate law. We handle patents for the boom of technology companies all looking to outdo one another, as well as mergers, acquisitions, that type of thing. You’re welcome to come by the firm anytime and I can show you around.” Callie’s father smiles in a way that feels shockingly genuine.
Even Callie’s brows knit together in question.
When a maid pushes a large silver cart with several plates of chocolate cake and three carafes of coffee into the livingroom, Lillian stands with practiced elegance. “Cake and coffee, anyone?”
Releasing Callie’s hand, I hop up to join Imogene and Prescott in passing out the dessert. When everyone else has been served, I grab a couple of plates for Callie and myself. “You don’t happen to have any hot cocoa, do you?”
Lillian blinks at me, the sound of forks scraping against fine china singing in the background.
