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“Thank you, Jordy.” Breanna kissed his ruddy cheek. “For everything.”
Dammit. She was hoping Hank would be here, then she’d have the chance to ask him about Sinjin. Now, the only hope she had left was for the man himself to appear. And with every minute that passed, it seemed more and more unlikely.
Fuck him. He left you, remember?
How could she forget?
Derek’s hand slipped from her waist to her hip. He squeezed. “We’ve done our duty long enough, I’d say. The arrivals are winding down, so let’s go get ourselves a drink, hm?”
Thank fuck.
“Sounds good.”
God, she needed this. The bubbly alcohol-infused concoction, whatever it was, slid so easily down her throat. Full of fall flavors, Breanna tasted pear and apple and cinnamon—never mind the vodka she knew was in there. Garnished with a pear slice, cinnamon stick, and star anise, it was darn pretty too.
“That was good.” She smiled at the bartender hired just for the occasion. “I’ll have another, please.”
Derek approached with two small plates of hors d’oeuvres. Pulling her close, he lifted a canapé to her mouth. “Here, try the salmon. It’s delicious.”
“Mm.” Breanna nodded as she chewed.
The bartender returned with her drink, and Derek ordered one for himself. “Whiskey ginger, my man—go easy on the ginger.” He winked. “And one for the lovely lady.”
“I already have one, Derek.” She held up her glass. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“This coming from the girl who never misses dollar beer night at The Cheerful Tortoise.” His brow lifted, creasing his forehead, and he smirked, while his palm came to rest on her ass. “Do I need to?”
What the hell?
Breanna pushed his hand off her bottom. “Are you hitting on me?”
“Hardly. I know you’re only used to boys, Miss Dalton, but I can assure you grown men don’t do that. We do, however, pursue what we want, and I think I’ve made what I want quite clear.”
Don’t fall for it, Bree. He’s just a fuckboy in a suit.
Shut up, Kayleigh.
The bartender placed their drinks in front of them. Pulling her against him, Derek’s arms came around her. He dropped his forehead to hers and exhaled. “Look, Breanna, I like you…I’m attracted to you, and I’m hoping we can still see each other after the estate is settled.”
Oh boy.
Thumb skimming her cheek, he lifted his head. She’d bet a million dollars he was going to kiss her. Right here. In front of God knows who.
“There you are, dear.” Kissing Derek’s cheek, a woman with jet-black hair inserted herself between them. “I should’ve known I’d find you at the bar.”
Stunningly beautiful, the woman reminded her of Priscilla Presley when she was younger, before she fucked up her face. Sophisticated. Rich, judging by her impeccable clothes. Just his type, albeit much older than she would’ve thought he’d go for.
“Pamela, this is Shane’s daughter, Breanna.” Derek pulled her back to his side. “Breanna, may I introduce Pamela Maynard?”
Ohh. Must be his partner’s wife.
She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Maynard.”
“I’ve been dying to meet you, and it’s Pamela.” The woman hugged her, then stepping back, she appraised her, tucking a loose tendril behind Breanna’s ear. “Shane, what a wonderful young man your father was. I can see him in you. He’d be so proud.”
“Thank you,” she choked.
Just hearing those words from someone who knew him brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, though.
