Brady was making his way through the crowd toward us, and I couldn’t help but smile at him. One of the good things about Brady was that he was always happy. You’d hardly know he was famous by the way he acted, accepting everyone, talking to everyone. No I’m-too-famous-for-you vibe ever came off of him. Georgie saw my smile, and she frowned.
“Not him. I love Brady like he’s my brother, but you know he’s never serious—not about anyone—right?” she asked.
I laughed. “Absolutely. I’m not falling into his bed, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s very much not my type.”
And he wasn’t. He was all floppy. A puppy dog with a smile. Like some huge golden retriever or something. The one who made my blood pump harder than it ever had before was dark, moody, and taken—and not by me.
When Brady reached Georgie and me, he stepped between us and threw an arm around our shoulders. His sweatiness, as apparent as mine, made Georgie protest.
“Ick, get your smelly pits off me, my shoulders, and my dress. I have no desire to smell like Brady sweat tonight.”
Brady’s eyebrows went up and down. “No, I’m sure Mac would hate you coming to bed smelling like another guy.”
He removed his arm from her shoulder but not mine. “Dani here doesn’t seem to mind my smelliness.”
“I grew up with a smelly brother, and I’ve been dancing as hard as you. It would be hypocritical of me if I protested,” I said with a shrug.
“Are you coming back to the dance floor?” he asked.
I couldn’t help my eyes darting to a table in the corner of the yard. A table where I could feel dark-green eyes taking me in. It didn’t matter. What was done was done. “Maybe. But I need to catch my breath for a few more minutes.”
“Did you really fire your PR manager?” Georgie asked Brady. It had been in all the tabloids recently. The woman had done something Brady wouldn’t talk about. He’d just come out and asked the news to respect his and her privacy, and that had been the end of it.
“I did,” he said, smile fading in a way so not him that it raised my natural curiosity. The curiosity that had served me well on The Hill, eking out morsels the senator could use to his advantage.
“And you won’t tell us why?” Georgie asked before I could say anything.
“You always were such a gossip,” Brady teased.
“You work at a hair salon for as many years as I did and asking people questions about their lives becomes second nature.” She shrugged.
Brady leaned in and whispered, “She stole a bunch of money from me.”
We both stared in shock. It was the last thing I’d expected to hear from him.
He continued, “But if you say that aloud to another living soul, I’ll have to send a hitman after both of you, because we signed a nondisclosure agreement.”
“She stole money from you?” I repeated, stunned. It shouldn’t surprise me. There was so much money passing around, above, below, and next to the table in D.C. that it was almost a given someone would be taking from someone else’s pocket. But it hadn’t been outright stealing. It had been back scratches and handshakes with dollars attached.
Ava joined us, her thick, dark hair twisted up but somehow still escaping its confines. “What are you all talking about that’s made Georgie look so serious? No one should be this serious on their wedding day.”
“They were fighting over me. You know how it is. Married or not, the women can’t leave me alone,” Brady tossed out.
Georgie smacked him on the shoulder, and Ava rolled her intriguing, dual-colored eyes. “The women or the men? Which is it this week?”
Brady laughed and shrugged. “I’ve never actually bedded a man. Can I help it if they flock to me like sheep to the shepherd?”
“More like a wolf,” Ava said in her husky voice. “And you torture them with your flirting and then leave them stranded.”
“Fun is fun,” Brady said with a wink.
Georgie and Ava couldn’t be alone for too long without the men they adored seeking them out, and now was no exception. Mac and Eli joined us, wrapping the women in their arms. They were all so insanely in love. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it firsthand with Mac and Georgie myself. There was just something that had drawn them together. The universe. Their DNA.
A natural draw you couldn’t resist. My eyes flicked to the corner of the yard again. He wasn’t there this time. Tristan and the baby were at the table alone.
A hand hit my shoulder, and I knew as soon as it did who it was. I hated my treacherous body for knowing it before I even looked. I hated my treacherous body for so many things these days.
“Dance with me?” he asked in my ear, the heat of his breath coasting over my skin and waking up every nerve ending I’d been fighting in the last twenty-four hours.
