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Her gaze slid down, first taking in the hat box in Duncan’s hand and then the length of my black dress. Gradually, as if moving with the turning of a crank, the corners of her eyes narrowed.
“…lovely to see you again,” she finished.
Duncan straightened, and he took a step toward me.
More disapproval? Good grief. Why did she not like that I was here with him? What did these people care if we were dating? They weren’t associated with his college fraternity.
“Mother,” he said with warning in his tone.
“Not now, Duncan. You remember Veronica.” Mrs. Hawthorne waved the blonde woman who’d been standing nearby closer.
Her low-cut dress was barely enough to keep all of her in. She raised her glass at Duncan and gave him a provocative smile.
“When your mom told me you were back in town,” Veronica said without any other greeting, “I just knew I had to be here.”
Mrs. Hawthorne’s heels clacked as she made her way around to Veronica. She beamed at the younger woman with delight.
“That’s right. You know I could never resist the chance to get you two together.”
Barf. This was rich.
Duncan said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head at Veronica, laid the hat box on the table, and slid his arm around my waist. As smooth as anything.
“Where’s Grandmother?” he asked. “Rosabel and I got her a gift.”
Though I doubted he’d do anything else but wish her a happy birthday, alarm bells rang in my head, matched by the fury cloaking Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression as her eyes widened.
“The gift is from Rosabel as well?”
“She helped me pick it out,” Duncan said, tightening his hold around me.
I went rigid. This wasn’t part of the plan. He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to prove anything to these people. He’d told me himself that it wasn’t safe.
What did he think he was doing?
THIRTY-TWO
rosabel
“You never introducedus to your friend,” Veronica said, simpering and stepping closer to the table. I didn’t miss the razorblade glower she shot in my direction, presumably at the way Duncan had his arm around me.
His mom waved this off. “This is Rosanne Astor. She’s Duncan’sassistantback in Westville.”
Veronica’s laugh caught the attention of several people at the neighboring table. “Your assistant? That’s so interesting.”
“Her name is Rosabel,” Duncan corrected.
His fingers dug into my side, and I could tell he was doing everything he could to keep it together.
I tilted toward him and kept my voice low. “It’s okay,” I muttered, gazing at him. “Their opinion doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t do this,” he growled through his teeth.
Mrs. Hawthorne laughed this time, stealing our attention once more. “Now, now. No secrets among friends. We have to know what you’re saying. Isn’t she still your assistant? You aren’t planning on conducting business here, of all places.”
She laughed and elbowed Veronica as though this was anywhere near being funny.
For the record, it wasn’t.
