Page 22 of The Faking Game
“Over a century,” she says. “Are you really dating my brother?”
I take a sip of champagne to hide my surprise at her bluntness. Is she someone we need to pretend in front of? Or is that limited to his mother? “We’ve been seeing each other, yes,” I say cautiously. “But it’s… new.”
Her eyes sparkle. “New, is it? I thought you lived with your brother in Europe.”
“I grew up mostly in France, yeah, and I earned my degree in London. Our mother is American, though. We spent a lot of summers here.” I clear my throat. “I just moved to New York for work.”
Her eyebrows lift. “But you’re not one of the women Mom loves to chuck at West. You’re different.”
“I… what makes you say that?”
“Well, first of all, you’re sitting out here with me in a designer dress on this lovely stone hedge, drinking champagne, instead of clinging to his side like a lost puppy.”
I think of my issues with intimacy, my dislike of men on dates who want to touch me all the time, and smile into my champagne. “Well, I’m not the clinging type.”
“No, I can see that. But you’re still dating West.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Tell me, what’s your favorite thing about him?”
“Well,” I begin, and lean back with my hand on the stone hedge, “that’s a great question. I really like his… work ethic.”
“Oh. Interesting,” she says. “That’s usually the first thing I notice about a man, too.”
“He’s a very devoted friend,” I admit. Everything he’s doing for me, he’s really doing for Rafe. As much as it might drive me nuts. “And I think he’s got a pretty dry sense of humor, too.”
He often uses it at my expense, but he does have one; I have to admit that.
Amber swirls her champagne in her glass. “That’s a very diplomatic description.”
“Thanks?” I fumble for another compliment, trying to think of anything else. That he’s painfully handsome but seems not to care about his appearance. That he’s intimidating and scowls a lot, that he’s powerful. That I’m aware every single time he steps into a room.
He’s magnetic.
But I can’t tell his sister that.
Her face breaks into a wide grin. “Relax,” she says and nudges me. “I know you two aren’t really dating. Let me guess; you’re here to help him score a point against Mom?”
I hesitate for a second. There’s no good answer here, so I just lift the glass to my lips and drain the last of the champagne.
Amber laughs. It’s a warm, easy sound, and my own worries slip away with the bubbly burn of the drink. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. He’s never brought a girl to one of these parties on his own before, and I can’t imagine him doing it with someone he’s just started seeing. But if it gets Mom to stop trying to set him up with women he has no interest in, I’m all for it.” Her eyes glitter again, and the cool wind brushes her strawberry blonde hair back. “How did his best friend’s sister get drawn into all of this, though?”
I blow out a breath. “That’s a very long story.”
“I’ve got time.” Her eyes dip to my empty glass. “But we’re going to need more to drink. I’ll grab a bottle. Stay right there, will you?”
I pat the stone. “I won’t move.”
She jumps down, landing on the balls of her feet. She walks on practiced, smooth strides to the bar and gives the bartender a winning smile. He just nods, and she swipes an entire bottle of Dom.
I stare at her, mouth half open.
She holds it up in triumph as she returns. “I hunted, I gathered!”
“Wow.”
“Hold this for me.” She hands me the bottle and jumps up beside me again. There are other guests around, and some send us curious glances, but we’re far enough away to be left mostly alone. Except by the security guard standing several feet away with his earpiece and serious expression.
I nod to him. “We can’t share the champagne, can we?”
Amber chuckles. “I’ve tried in the past. I had a particularly attractive security guard my third year of college…” She undoes the steel cage to the champagne bottle easily. “But he had been trained too well. Never so much as looked when I wore a push-up bra and a low top.”
