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“Jackass,” I muttered, turning around once more, shoulders thrown back.
“Princess.”
I wanted to show him exactly how un-princess-like I could be, but hissing like a cat and scratching his eyes out wouldn’t go unnoticed or unpunished by Mother.
I sat in my chair instead, a picture-perfect example of a well-bred young woman, even though I wished the floral arrangement Mother had delivered for our dinner hid me from the hot pile of trouble sitting across the table.
Too damn hot for his own good, Gideon could have been a runway model, and I kept stealing peeks whenever Mother engaged him in conversation. Sharp bone structure, full lips that made me dream about sweet sixteen kisses beneath starlit skies. Long eyelashes my friends would die for and that dark hair bordering on inappropriate as Mother would say… My fingers tingled with the need to push it back just so, to fix it with a bit of hair putty. Or perhaps rumple it instead. Even messed up, his hair wouldn’t distract from his beauty.
If anything, it added to his appeal.
“So, your mother tells me you’re interested in the cosmetics industry.”
I whipped my head Mr. Destil’s way to find him flashing the charming smile Mother had fallen for.
“Makeup is my passion,” I said, glancing at Mother to find her enamored with the man seated beside her. Smiles and stars in her eyes.
“The beautification aspect or artistry for say, Hollywood?”
“It’s more a hobby than career interest,” I answered with a slight shrug Mother wouldn’t approve of. I had no clue what I wanted to do with the rest of my life beyond eventually getting out on my own, away from her, and making independent choices.
Mother mentioned a movie crew that had been in the area the summer before and how Jenny and I had begged to watch them film because of the leading, male actors.
“But they’re much too young for such company,” she said. “My sweetheart will remain as pure as possible for as long as possible. She hasn’t even kissed a boy yet.”
I smiled with my teeth even as my face heated and stomach clenched over her prideful tone in telling near strangers personal stuff about me. My purity she’d hammered the need for into my brain since childhood was no business of Mr. Destil or his son.
“What a very admirable character, young lady.”
“Thank you, sir.” I forced myself not to mutter while focusing my attention back on my plate.
The conversation moved on, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Gideon kept quiet across from me. He was no smooth-talker or charmer like his father. There was something about him, a sense of danger, darkness almost, that hung over him, but not the kind that suggested I run and hide. A bad boy, perhaps a big bad wolf rather than the rich snob he’d accused me of being.
The perfect cut of his suit marked him as upper class like Mother called us, not that Anchorage had much in the way of rich folk. Father had been the one with money. Mother had been a poor working girl who turned her back on her family to marry up beyond her class.
While drunk once, she’d told me she’d grown up on the bad side of the tracks and would do anything within her power to keep from going back to that life. She never spoke of the family she’d left behind, and when I’d asked about a grandparent last, she looked down her nose and told me they weren’t worth our time.
Epitome of a snob if ever I’d met one.
But Gideon…
Another quick peek—he watched me with those blue eyes, seeming to assess me with a knowing look. Eyes hooded beneath his tilted back head.
Jackass.
I flashed a prissy smile Mother would be proud of and took a dainty bite of my fish, determined to ignore him.
The girls at school were going to go crazy for that damn half-smile he shot me every time I got caught glaring his way. Jenny would call me a lucky bitch to have him sleeping a shared bathroom’s distance away, but I had a bad feeling about the whole idea of two Destil men in our house.
I had hated him and his father long before they’d shown up for our dinner date. Mother had gone to California to sell off a property Dad had owned and returned a changed woman—smiling, with light in her eyes I’d recognized.
She’d met a man.
Instant love.
After a mere week together, she’d agreed to marry him. Wasn’t I excited to finally have a father? A brother?
No one would replace the father I barely remembered. And a brother? Someone who would always hit the shared toilet between our bedrooms? Jenny complained nonstop about her two younger brothers, so I expected I had absolutely nothing to look forward to.
