Page 33 of Heart to Heart
“We are doing something. We’re watching a bunch of grown-ass women act like complete idiots.”
“And one of those grown-ass idiots is going to get hurt. This is insane.”
“At least we know the ratings will be up this year with this kind of entertainment.”
I shot a look at her that I hoped channeled my mother the time she caught me sneaking into the house after curfew—an ‘I’m both disappointed and too exhausted to deal with this bullshit right now’ look.
“Ugh, fine.” Sasha threw her hands into the air, sighing. “We’ll go break it up. Just quit looking at me like that.”
With Sasha in tow, I plodded over to the group of quarreling women, unsure of exactly what I was going to say or do to restore order and sanity to the room again. “You guys, stop. This isn’t going to get you to Tristan any sooner.”
Well, that did absolutely nothing.
Without even batting so much as an eye in my general direction, the quarrel morphed into a shoving match, and I narrowly avoided being the recipient of an elbow to my left boob, which really would have capped off the night.
“Hey!” Sasha raised her voice like a parent admonishing a petulant child. “Avery is right. This is getting out of hand. Do you really want Tristan to see you with your makeup smeared and broken fingernails?”
Apparently, appealing to their vanity was enough to turn this war into a spat, but not before Hadley made a remark about Genevieve’s eyebrows and how they resembled a poorly drawn caterpillar, which ended with Genevieve shoving Hadley and Hadley stumbling backward into me.
The force of her body pushed me backward, and I struggled to stay on my feet as my slippers slid out underneath me. Unable to maintain my footing, I fell against the French doors, which it would seem hadn’t been properly latched shut. To my horror and the rest of my dignity, the doors flew open, and I landed with a thud on my rear on the patio. Inside, the commotion subsided from deafening to quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
I looked up to see the women inside staring at me, thinking maybe someone would come rushing over to help me up. Instead, all I saw was Sasha staring at me wide-eyed and mouthing something that looked like, “Go!”
This was it. This was my chance. And I didn’t even have to take off my earrings and get my hands dirty to take it. Maybe this was karma’s reward. Or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I wasn’t going to waste another second. My rear throbbed with what I was sure was a burgeoning bruise as I pushed myself to my feet and ran as fast as my slipper-clad feet could take me.
I had zero idea where Tristan and Daisy were. The patio was massive, with numerous pathways leading into gardens lined with hedges and rose bushes placed strategically for privacy. Honestly, I may as well have fallen down a rabbit hole straight into Wonderland. Even with all the beheadings, it would have been far less dramatic there.
Right as I was about to set foot down the first path I came to, a shrill snort-laugh caused me to stop short, marking the first time in the history of mankind where a snort-laugh saved the day. I turned around, walking in the direction of the laugh that didn’t at all match Daisy’s face, finding myself on a cobblestone path that angled around a hedge and a private rose garden.
Christ. I really was in Wonderland.
In the middle of the garden sat a bench, and on that bench sat Daisy and Tristan. Daisy’s body was angled into him as she leaned in as far as her body would allow. For his part, Tristan looked uncomfortable. And I don’t know why, but a piece of me was happy about that. Maybe I would have a small shot of moving forward, after all.
My heart pounded in my chest as I approached them. Never in my existence had I ever made the first move when it came to anything. I waited for people to approach me, trying to appear as approachable as possible. Kiki had made the first movewhen she introduced herself at the coffee shop. Even Guy had come up to me first at the restaurant, showing me around and introducing me to the rest of the staff. Nope, making a move—any move— was definitely not my thing.
As I approached Tristan, I plastered on my best I’m-a-strong-independent-woman smile, the butterflies in my stomach taking flight when he looked up and locked eyes with me as I somehow managed to open my mouth to ask the question that always made me roll my eyes whenever I heard other women ask it on the show.
“Do you mind if I steal him for a few minutes?”
CHAPTER 18
TRISTAN
I sighedas I hugged Daisy, a sense of relief washing over me when she walked away. Behind me, Avery had taken a seat on the bench, having ignored Daisy’s death glare. Any man in the country would kill to be in my position. A throng of beautiful, successful women clamoring to meet them. Instead, I was overwhelmed. And it was only the beginning.
“Tristan, are you all right?”
I turned to see Avery, a shy smile on her delicate face. Self-consciously, she sat up straighter on the bench, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt. My eyes wandered from her face down to her shoulders and the dress that hugged every curve of her body in a way I hadn’t noticed earlier. Probably because of where her hands had been then.
Damnit, Tristan, now is not the time to think about her hands on your dick.
“Tristan.” The sound of her voice snapped me back to reality. “Is everything okay?”
I couldn’t remember the last time someone asked me if I was okay, or generally seemed to care to know the answer to that question. It caught me off guard, and it felt like an eternityhad passed before I answered her. “Yeah,” I offered, taking a seat next to her. “I’m fine. Are you fine?” Color rushed into her cheeks, undoubtedly reflecting on the events that unfolded earlier. An overwhelming part of me wanted to make her feel comfortable, to let her know that it hadn’t been a big deal to me. “How’s your ankle?” I asked to distract her from my first question.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she assured me. “I can walk on it. Clearly.” She’d crossed her legs and wiggled her foot to drive her point home, and I caught sight of the ear poking out from underneath the hem of her dress.
“Is that—is that a slipper?” I asked, amused. The deepening red hue that overtook the rest of her face told me that the fact that she was wearing fuzzy footwear with ears was the last thing she wanted me to find out.
