Josh slides his hand around the back of my arm and gives it the lightest squeeze, which I take as an “attagirl.”
Presley isn’t done. “You know your filet mignon comes with broccolini, right?”
I glance over at her. “Yes. I like broccolini.”
“Oh, good. I thought you might not know what it is.”
I’m getting a hint of her new strategy. “Why wouldn’t I know what broccolini is?”
“You’re from Hillsboro, aren’t you?” Her eyes are direct and friendly. But I know this kind of friendly. You don’t get out of a sorority without learning how to identify and defend against this kind of friendliness.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it less . . .” She pauses. It’s ever so delicate. “Cosmopolitan?”
“You think we don’t have vegetables in Hillsboro?”
“Of course not. I assume y’all have the basic ones.” She puts a barely there emphasis on “basic.”
The strategy will be to make me look like I’m out of my depth with these here fancy upper class folk. All right, then.
I smile. “It’s true that it takes food trends longer to get to us there than to Austin.” I turn to Josh like I’m remembering something and put my hand on his knee. “Babe, do you remember how I told you about my girls’ trip to Napa for my friend’s birthday?”
He nods like he absolutely remembers this conversation about a trip I never took.
“I had the best broccolini there. Sautéed with garlic and lemon, but somehow it had a nutty flavor too. I wish I knew how the chef did it. I’ve been trying to find a broccolini dish that good ever since.” This conversation is stupid. Broccolini isn’t even that trendy. Maybe that’s why it’s extra insulting for her to say it.
Take that, Presley. I go on girls’ trips to Napa and eat fancy broccolini dishes.I know my job is only to sell everyone on the table that we’re super into each other so Presley will back off, but she’s fired some stealth shots, and I can’t resist some light payback.
“So what do you do for work, Presley?” I’m honestly curious. Is she expected to work like Josh is, or is she more like an unpaid event planner for charity boards so she can attend fancy galas?
“I handle communications for Reilly Industries.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a graceful movement made with a perfectly manicured finger in pale pink. It’s pretty and I’m jealous. I have to keep my nails short for workandguitar.
“Oh,” I say in surprise, because I am. It sounds like a real job. But she’s getting on my nerves, so I unsheathe my metaphorical claws. “I assumed you were going to say a surgeon’s office because . . .” I bring my hand up and almost point to my lips before letting my hand and my words both trail away, as if I’ve just realized that would be a faux pas. Josh’s fingers press against my nape, and I can’t tell if that’s approval or warning. What I do know is they send a tingle straight down my spine, and I fight a shiver.
Presley’s eyes narrow. “A Wharton MBA would be wasted in a doctor’s office.”
Oh, nice. She’s got brains. I should lay off, not because she deserves it, but because I’ve always thought cat fights over a man are tacky, even if I’m only in this one for entertainment and not to win a guy. “Wharton? Well done.” I hope she understands that’s me offering a truce.
“It’s not blood pressure checks in a Medicare facility, but I learned some things.”
No truce, I guess.
Elizabeth redirects the conversation. “How’s Cin, JP?”
I’m sure Elizabeth is very skilled at reading the subtext between women at social functions, and Presley and her dad turn to updating the Browers on Mrs. Reilly, who sounds like she’s into horses, big time.
I lean over to whisper to Josh. I’m caught off-guard by the effect he has on me, and I don’t know if he’s aware of it, but payback is in order here. I make sure my lips brush the shell of his ear as I whisper, “Sorry.”
I’m already settling back in my chair when he meets my eyes, his brimming with amusement.
“Are you though?” he asks softly.
“Of course.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. He isreallyselling this fake dating thing. His hand slides from my nape but only for him to lightly brush his thumb along my bottom lip as he asks, “For which part?”
My breath catches at the friction from his touch. His eyes glint. He noticed my reaction, and my competitive drive ramps up. I can’t decide if it’s my best or worst quality, but he’s thrown down a challenge, and I accept.
