Before Liz or anyone else can say something, Mindy Sue jumps in. “You’ll have a chance to get to know him tonight!”
“What are you going to wear?” Britt asks, picking up the conversation.
I glance down, and then at the clock on the wall, and realize for the first time that it’s nearly four. And shoot. I forgot to grab a jacket. “Uh…”
There’s a shifting of the camera crew, and Holland saunters through the front door of the inn. He looks effortlessly handsome in dark jeans and a white button-up shirt. A few of the women scamper over to greet him. I hang back, suddenly self-conscious about my attire and about the narrative that’s being woven about me.
“I guess I’m wearing this,” I tell Britt with a wince.
“You look great,” Mindy Sue assures me.
“You do,” Britt agrees.
I smile, genuinely grateful for their support. “Thanks.”
Holland holds up his hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Ladies, it’s great to see you all again. Thanks for coming to Cashmere Cove. I’m looking forward to showing you all around. For now, Mallory…” His gaze settles on me, and a claw of heat rises up my neck. “Shall we?”
I square my shoulders and nod, plastering on a smile because what choice do I have? If I have to deal with these women judging me and meet Holland’s family to secure financial stability for my own, then so be it.
7
Meet the Fam
Holland
I’m trying to act like I’m not freaking out to be leading Mallory outside Daisy’s Inn on our way to a legitimate date…in front of my entire family at Sunday dinner. But I don’t know if I’m pulling it off.
Mallory stops short on the walkway to the road, and I stumble into her back. She grunts. I reach out a hand to her waist to settle myself, and she glares back at me. I pull it away. “Sorry.”
“Whose car is that?”
I steady myself and stick my hands in my pockets, grinning. “Mine. For today,” I add.
MEMoutfitted me with a sweet, bright-red 1968 Chevy Corvette. It’s a convertible with a top that we currently have up because April in Wisconsin looks pretty, but the chill in the air doesn’t mess around.
“Come on.” I put my hand on Mallory’s back, risking her ire, to guide her toward the passenger side of our ride.
She doesn’t say anything, but she’s working her jaw, and I know I’m breaking her no-touching rule, but I don’t care. Having her here, with me, and knowing that I’m getting under her skin is already making me feel better in a weird, roundabout way.
I open the door for her, and she slides inside.
I walk to the other side and slip into the driver’s seat. One of the production minions comes up and takes our microphone pacs after we get settled.
“We’ll hook these back up as soon as we get to the Bradleys’ house,” Vivian informs us. “For now, we’re going to get somefootage of Holland driving away, and then we’ll take some shots of Main Street and the downtown area. We’ll meet you over there.”
“Sounds good.” I flick my gaze to Mallory. “You ready to do this?”
“I don’t know if I’d say that, but what choice do I have?”
“That’s the spirit!” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes.
Production had the car running, so I ease it away from the curb.
Easeis an exaggeration. This thing has a manual transmission, so the car does a bit of a lurch.
Mallory curses and looks to the retractable ceiling. “Is there an ‘oh crap’ bar in here?”
“Relax,” I chuckle. “I’ll get you to our date in one piece. I know you’re anxious to get the process of falling madly in love with me started.”
