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I don’t get to relish in Shane’s disgruntled hum because his father barges into the ballroom with Cody on his heels. Cody breaks off, joking with a few gigantic men who are probably hockey players, while Rick marches straight toward us with a scowl. Shane’s grip on my waist moves from possessive to protective, shifting me slightly behind him.
“Enjoying yourself?” Rick asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shane doesn’t answer, his jaw tightening.
His father’s gaze hardens. “You should have helped Dustin earlier.”
“Last I checked, he was a grown man, capable of dealing with the consequences of his own actions.”
“I suppose being his brother is a responsibility you can’t handle,” Rick scoffs.
When Shane doesn’t answer, just continues their stare-down, his father finally looks at me. The sardonic glance he sends my way has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
“Just like you couldn’t handle keeping a woman of substance on your arm. Brielle came from one of the best families in Atlanta. How’d you screw that up?”
Wait. What?
How is that in any way Shane’s fault?
“She cheated on him.”
“Indiscretions happen in powerful marriages.” The way his gaze rakes my dress makes me feel slimy. “At least Brielle wasn’t a nobody from Texas, playing dress-up in a world she doesn’t belong.”
Wow. Just…wow.
The wild swing from praising a cheater to attacking me has my head spinning. Shane had warned me, but Jeez Louise, the rest of the Seaver men are awful. No wonder Shane wears more armor than a medieval knight. He’s been putting up with abuse his whole life.
I blink, stunned for a second before I feel Shane jolt forward like he’s about to punch his father in the face.
In one quick motion, I slide between the men, glancing over my shoulder at Shane while fisting the jacket over his stomach with the hand behind my back.
Trust me, my eyes beg.
Shane hesitates, obviously torn before giving me a miniscule nod.
My grin grows slowly before I shine my full-wattage smile at Rick. It’s a gamble, but I’m betting a man like him won’t back down from a fight.
“That was a good start, but you’ll have to dig deeper if you really want to make an impact.” I make a show of shaking out my shoulders before twitching my fingers in a universal come at me gesture.
“What?” He runs a hand through his short copper hair, confused.
“If you’re going to attack me, you’ll have to do better than that. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I tilt my head to the side, pushing with my knuckles to pop my neck.
The sneer settling over Rick’s mouth can only be described as curdled.
“Though you’re a lovely little thing, that’s the extent of your usefulness. Why don’t you keep quiet while the men are talking?”
Shane quietly seethes behind me while I release a low whistle.
“Someone’s sipping hard from the patriarchal punch bowl. What are you going to do next? Tell me to get in the kitchen?”
When Rick’s hands fist, I reflexively lean into Shane. One of his arms bands around my stomach with a comforting weight.
“Shouldn’t you be in the studio? You’re an artist, apparently?”
I rub my palms together. “Here we go. Give me your best ‘art isn’t a real career’ comment, and I’ll let you know if I’ve heard it before.”
The way Rick’s face lights up makes a ribbon of unease braid down my spine.
