Two weeks later, Sophie was in an entirely different sort of hell. One commonly known as “dinner with the parents.”
“William, stop eating all the shrimp. They’re for the salad,” Sophie’s mom said, slapping at the hand of her favorite dinner guest.
Sophie raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. Not that Marnie Dalton wasn’t the type to slap hands. She totally was. Sophie’s career-focused, take-no-prisoners, cloth-napkins-only mother ran her home with the rigid precision of Fort Knox.
But Marnie usually made an exception for Will. Hell, all women made exceptions for William Thatcher III. It was sort of nauseating, but Sophie had gotten tired of dry-heaving over her best friend’s manipulation of the female population somewhere around college. After all, it really wasn’t his fault that all women turned to simpering puddles of swoon around him.
All women except for Sophie.
Sophie’s mother scurried out of the kitchen, muttering something about crass fingerprints on the napkin rings.
“What’s up with your mom? She’s high-strung tonight,” Will said, busying himself once again with the shrimp.
“Just tonight?” Sophie asked with a snort.
“You know what I mean. More than usual,” he corrected, snagging another shrimp.
Sophie shrugged. She’d stopped trying to figure out what made her mother tick. Other than lecturing her daughters and spying on the neighbors, of course.
“Have you told your parents you quit your job yet?” Will asked as he tossed a shrimp tail in the garbage disposal.
Sophie winced. “Eh…not exactly.”
Will shook his head and reached for the croutons. “Well, warn me before you do so I can clear out. Having an unemployed daughter in the house is going to go over about as well as a zit before prom.”
Sophie made a grab for the wine bottle and topped off her glass. “Best friends are supposed to be encouraging.”
“They’re also supposed to be honest,” Will replied. “But if you need a little ‘bright side,’ how about this: your parents are going to be thrilled that you’re not serving up Irish car bombs at Stump’s anymore. Once they get over the whole lack of health insurance and 401(k), that is. Oh wait, you never had either of those in the first place.”
Sophie groaned. “They’re going to kill me.”
“Pretty much,” Will agreed. “I know you’re all for spontaneity and shit, but quitting a job without having another lined up? Ballsy. What brought it on?”
Oh, now, let me see, what’s changed?…I got mistaken for a freaking streetwalker, that’s what.
But Sophie hadn’t even told Will about the Las Vegas incident. Not that he’d judge her for it, but the whole episode still felt too fresh. Talking about it would be like rubbing lemon juice in the wound and then adding a little salt for good measure.
“Just needed a fresh start,” she replied. One that doesn’t involve stinging humiliation and pleather boots.
It wouldn’t make sense if she tried to explain it, but after the sting of Las Vegas, Sophie needed this change. It was as though that uptight asshole in the elevator had held up a mirror and forced Sophie to face her life.
She wasn’t twenty-two anymore. Being a cocktail waitress and every-night party girl wasn’t just a rebellious phase. It had become a career.
A career as a waitress was fine.
A career as an aging sorority girl in thigh-high boots and with no goals? Not so much.
So…she’d quit.
“You need money?” Will asked quietly.
Sophie melted just a little at the support in his familiar blue eyes. She did need money. “Savings account” had not exactly been her middle name over the past few years. But she wouldn’t take it from Will. She’d just have to find a job. A respectable one. ASAP.
“Not taking your money,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But I don’t suppose you’d want to hire me?”
Will gave an apologetic grin. “Uh-uh. You know how I roll. No employees, no overhead.”
“I know, I know,” she grumbled. Will was a wildly successful entrepreneur, but he operated completely on his own. Being a boss wasn’t in the cards for him.
“Sophie, don’t slouch,” her mother scolded, returning to the kitchen. “Men don’t find poor posture attractive.”
“What do they find attractive, Mom?” Sophie propped her chin on her hands and pretended to look fascinated. “I mean other than Mary Janes, corsets, homemade jam, and the ability to sew dust ruffles.”
“What’s a dust ruffle?” Will asked.
Marnie hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to explain dust ruffles to her favorite pseudo-son, or lecture her least-favorite daughter about being single.
Since Sophie was related by blood, she got the short end of the stick.
“Honestly, Sophie,” her mother said with a sniff. “When will you learn that the marrying kind of men aren’t going to be attracted to your caustic humor and…”
“And what, Mom? I’m learning so much tonight!” Sophie said as her mother broke off and began furiously chopping a cucumber. “What else won’t men be attracted to? My foul mouth? Big hair? Lack of savings account? The fact that I don’t have a dust ruffle?”
“Dust ruffle,” Will muttered around a crouton, still sounding mystified. “I’ve gotta look that up.” He pulled out his phone and started typing.
“Sophie, I don’t want to fight,” her mother said with a long sigh. “You know I do my best not to pester…”
Will snorted.
“…but sometimes I just don’t understand your choices. For example, what are you wearing? Did you intentionally pull out your oldest clothes for our nice family dinner?”
“Let me know when the ‘nice’ part starts,” Sophie muttered as she dug her finger into the hole in her jeans.
“I think Sophie looks great,” Will said loyally. “Some men like the unfussy look.”
Marnie perked up slightly at the prospect of Will finding Sophie attractive. It was her lifelong mission to see Sophie married off to her oldest friend. And Marnie was impervious to Sophie’s constant assurances that she and Will were so never going to happen. Ever.
Not that they hadn’t tried way back when.
On paper, Sophie and Will should have had the typical high school puppy-love story. He’d been the cocky, senior football star. His perfectly messy hair and blue eyes had sent many a teenage girl’s virtue out the window.
As for Sophie’s part, she’d been the dewy underclassman princess who’d blossomed over the summer, getting boobs and highlights. (To this day, she wasn’t sure which she was more grateful for.)
Dating had seemed like a logical step, and it had been mutually beneficial. Will had gotten obligatory high fives for “nailing” the newest cheerleading recruit. And for Sophie, everyone knew that getting asked to prom by a senior was the high school equivalent of the Holy Grail.
The rest should have been yearbook history.
But the oddest thing had happened. They’d been two attractive, horny high schoolers without a speck of sizzle.
Sophie and Will had tried to pretend that the boring, clumsy first kiss beneath the bleachers was just a fluke. He’d blamed his distraction on the C he’d gotten in physics, and Sophie had claimed PMS. But after prom night had ended with a platonic game of Go Fish instead of dry humping in his Lexus, they’d been forced to admit it: no physical chemistry. Not even butterflies. They could talk for hours, laugh at the same jokes, and had dozens of mutual friends. But the hand-holding was merely tolerable, and the kissing was downright awkward.
So they’d done the teenage unthinkable. They’d become friends. Real friends, not like the usual high school friends of the opposite sex that claimed they were “best friends,” but really were just stalling until one of them finally admitted their true feelings.
And perhaps because Will and Sophie had become friends without any of the usual hormonal complications, their friendship had actually lasted. Despite Will going to college three years before her, he’d kept his promise to stay in touch. And when Sophie had headed off to Stanford, putting even more distance between them, they’d e-mailed regularly and been nearly inseparable over their Christmas breaks.
Everyone waited for the inevitable moment of romantic realization, but here they were several years later, still completely platonic as ever.
Will had practically become a part of the family after his own parents had moved out of state without much of a backward glance. As with the fledgling high school romance that had started it all, the dinner arrangement was mutually beneficial. Will got the chance to eat something other than takeout, and Sophie had someone to help distract her parents from their constant meddling.
The only person who didn’t like the arrangement was Brynn.
Sophie’s older sister wasn’t exactly the forgive-and-forget type, and when Brynn had been a freshman in high school, Will had been responsible for her 32A bra finding its way up the football field’s flagpole. At the homecoming game.
It had been the start of a beautiful hatred, and their dislike had only increased over the years. Even Sophie’s knack for easing awkward situations hadn’t been able to resolve their animosity.
Realizing that her sister still hadn’t arrived, Sophie glanced at the clock. Brynn was late. Something that happened…never. “Where’s Brynn?” Sophie asked her mother.
Dinner was always served precisely at seven, but Marnie encouraged (or mandated, depending who you asked) that everyone get there around five thirty for her aperitif hour.
“Oh, she won’t be here until six,” Marnie said cheerfully as she seasoned the chicken.
Had the tardy daughter been Sophie, a lecture would have been in order. But when perfect Brynn was late, there was always a good reason. Sophie took another sip of wine and tried not to care.
Sophie’s dad wandered into the kitchen, having finished up his phone call. A recently retired doctor, Chris Dalton was struggling with what he interpreted as the “utter uselessness” of retirement, and was loving the fact that some of his former staff still called to ask for his opinion.
“Hey, Dad!” Sophie said brightly. She and her father weren’t close, but he didn’t pester her as much as her mother. In fact, he didn’t pester her much at all. Or even really talk to her.
“Soph,” her dad said, planting a distracted kiss near the side of her head as he plucked a wineglass from the shelf.
She turned to face him. “How’s that golf handicap these days? Mom mentioned you’d—”
“Will!” Chris said, interrupting Sophie and shaking the hand of the closest thing he had to a son. “Just heard that the Ms signed two new pitchers. I think this will finally be their year, no?”
Ugh. Baseball. Not her thing.
“Can I help, Mom?” Sophie asked, watching her mom dredge the chicken breasts in flour.
“Oh, no thanks, dear. I’ve got it under control. Just some simple lemon chicken paillards, some truffled mushrooms, and a sherry-vinaigrette shrimp and caprese salad tonight.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow at the complexity of the meal. Her mom must have gotten a new cookbook.
“What’s Brynn up to?” Sophie asked, toying with the stem of the wineglass. “I haven’t talked to her all week.”
Marnie looked up, her eyes glowing with the opportunity to share Big News. “Oh, then you haven’t heard? Brynn’s got herself a boyfriend! She’s bringing him to dinner.”
Oh, yippee. The evening ahead was sure to be rife with yawns. Brynn had a knack for finding men that most closely resembled doorknobs and attempting to date them.
At least the unexpected company explained why they were having chicken “paillards” when they normally got overdone pork chops.
“Wow, that’s great,” Sophie said half-enthusiastically.
“A boyfriend?” Will asked. “What kind of loser is she bringing around this time?”
Sophie’s dad snickered, which was a testament to how desperately he wanted Will’s approval, because normally anything remotely close to insulting Brynn was off-limits.
Marnie shot Will a censorious look. “Now, William, you know that guy she brought last time was a nice fellow, he was just a little…”
“He was a dentist,” Will said in disdain. “She’s an orthodontist. What the hell do they talk about, plaque?”
“I don’t actually think orthodontists deal much in plaque,” Sophie mused while topping off her Chardonnay. “I think it’s more about devising new ways to attach metal to teeth while destroying the confidence of middle schoolers everywhere.”
“Just be nice, kids,” Marnie said to Will and Sophie. “And you too,” she added with a sidelong glance at her husband.
“Jeez, you’d think we were going to tar and feather the poor fellow,” Chris muttered to Will.
The doorbell rang, and Will and Sophie exchanged puzzled looks.
“Please tell me my sister isn’t ringing the doorbell to the house she grew up in,” Sophie said. In the years since they started the Sunday dinner tradition, nobody had ever done anything more than wipe their feet on the mat as they hollered, I’m here.
Marnie was so excited she was practically levitating. “This must mean that he’s an important one! That’s her warning that we’re all to be on our best behavior.
“Come on, Chris,” Marnie hissed. “We should meet them at the door and make a good impression.”
“I’m sure the five minutes of waiting on the front porch has already done that,” Sophie called after them.
“Why does she have to ruin a family dinner by bringing another boyfriend?” Will said as he finished the last of his wine.
“What’s the big deal?” Sophie asked, helping herself to more cheese and crackers. “You haven’t even met the guy, and you already hate him?”
Will ignored the question. “I’ll bet he’ll be pasty-skinned, pale-eyed, and blond like the rest of you. It’s like she only dates men who will fit in perfectly with the Dalton family portraits. All the Nordic features and pale coloring is a bit overwhelming.”
Sophie didn’t disagree. Their annual family portraits were a little bit…bland. Nobody ever bothered to ask where she and Brynn had gotten their matching blonde, blue-eyed looks. It was immediately obvious that it came from both parents.
Granted, her father’s hair was more gray than blond, but it only added to his distinguished authority. Not that he needed help in that department. The man never wore jeans and didn’t even own a shirt that didn’t have a collar.
Marnie also was a fastidious dresser, believing that jeans were strictly for gardening and that unpolished nails were for “street people.”
Sophie’s mother’s voice trilled from the hallway, “William and Sophie Claire, won’t you please come join us in the drawing room?”
“You have a drawing room?” Will asked.
“She’s probably been rereading Jane Austen and decided to rename the living room.”
They grabbed their wineglasses and headed toward the sound of Brynn’s smooth alto voice and the sharper squawk that generally meant Marnie was in full-out “impress” mode.
Sophie hoped her sister’s new man-friend was adept at flattery and pleasant niceties, because he was going to need a hefty dose of social skills to maneuver his new girlfriend’s overprotective father and eager-for-grandbabies mother.
She shuffled after Will into the “drawing room,” mentally preparing herself for mind-numbing conversation with one of Brynn’s adoring drones.
Sophie halted to a stop so suddenly that some of her wine sloshed over the edge of her glass and onto Marnie’s pristine white carpet.
Her mother made an exasperated sound, but a little spilled Chardonnay was the least of Sophie’s worries.
Oh.
My.
God.
It was him.
The man from the Las Vegas elevator standing in front of her like some sort of icy-eyed ghost. And he had an arm around her sister’s waist.
Oh, holy crap.
The aged gouda she’d just swallowed began churning in the wine tsunami of her stomach.
Will pinched her upper arm none too gently, and Sophie belatedly realized that her sister had finished introductions.
Everybody was staring at her, including Mr. I’m Not Looking for an Escort Service. She had so not missed that deadly sexy gaze. Emphasis on the “deadly” part. Still, it was reassuring that he too looked a bit shell-shocked. He didn’t say a word, but based on what she knew of him, she didn’t really expect him to.
The ball was clearly in her court.
“Soph?” Her sister’s perfectly symmetrical smile was looking a little strained around the edges. “Everything okay?”
“Sorry,” Sophie said lamely. “Totally zoned out there for a minute.”
“Awwwwkward…” Will muttered under his breath.
“Okay?” Brynn said, giving her a puzzled look. “Um, again, this is Grayson Wyatt. Gray, my sister, Sophie.”
Sophie pushed a smile onto her face even as she felt the telltale tingle at the corners of her eyes.
Do not cry. Do. Not. Cry.
But the tears threatened to fall anyway. Her family was about to learn that Sophie’s disdain for convention had reached new heights. Good Lord, her father was about to find out that his baby girl had been mistaken for a freaking prostitute.
Unless…
It was a long shot, but Sophie slowly lifted her gaze to Gray’s impenetrable gray one.
Please.
If he heard her silent request, he didn’t respond. There wasn’t so much as a twitch of his hard features or a hint of understanding in his eyes. And then…
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dalton,” Gray said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I can certainly see the sibling resemblance.”
It took Sophie a moment to register what had just happened. Not only had he correctly interpreted her silent plea to keep their first meeting a secret, but he had actually granted her request.
Granted, the man was still wretched. What was with the “Ms. Dalton” crap? And he hadn’t smiled once. Stiff.
But he’d passed on the chance to humiliate her. And for that, she could have kissed him.
Except, not. Of course. Bad idea. Not only because he was still on her list of Horrible Human Beings, but also because he was dating her sister.
Oh God, my sister is dating this jerk. How had that not fully registered until now? She’d been so busy reeling from seeing him again that she hadn’t even comprehended the implications. This wasn’t just a chance meeting. The enemy was in her childhood home.
“What is with you?” Will whispered as Marnie captured Gray and Brynn’s attention with a description of her closet remodel. “How much wine have you had?”
“I must have had too much too fast,” Sophie said quietly. It felt wrong to lie to Will. She never lied to Will. Never had to. But there were some things she wasn’t ready to share, even with her best friend. He’d just laugh and tell her it was no big deal.
And that was the real kicker.
She was scared to tell Will that it was a big deal. After years of acting like her flighty reputation didn’t matter, a gray-eyed stiff had picked at a scab she didn’t even know she had.
He’d made her bleed.
Sophie took a sip of wine and tried to still her too-fast pounding in her chest. She tried to keep her eyes focused on her mom, but they kept straying to Gray.
She sucked in a quick breath when she saw he’d been watching her. His eyes quickly moved back to Marnie, but she saw the tension in his jaw.
He didn’t like this any more than she did.
“…And I think you should know, my Brynny doesn’t bring just any boyfriend home to meet her parents,” Marnie was saying.
“Oh, he’s not quite my boyfriend,” Brynn said quickly. “We’ve only been on a few dates. I know it’s a bit soon to bring him to meet the family, but he just moved to the area, and I knew he’d appreciate a home-cooked meal and a chance to get the scoop on Seattle sports!”
Brynn flashed a winning smile at her parents, who puffed up at the praise, but Sophie winced. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she instinctively understood that a man like Gray would hate feeling like a friendless charity case. She cast another glance in his direction, and sure enough, his clenched jaw looked like it could shatter his molars. Good thing he was dating an orthodontist.
Looking to distract the conversation before her mother and Brynn started stuffing baked goods in Gray’s pockets while discussing baby names, Sophie jerked Will forward as buffer. She couldn’t remember if Brynn had already introduced Will while she’d been having a mental and emotional breakdown, but it couldn’t hurt to put her own spin on things.
“Mr. Wyatt, this is Will Thatcher. My date.”
Will let out a derisive snort, but took pity on her, because he didn’t bother to correct the implication that they were more than friends. The two men shook hands.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Gray said politely.
Will said nothing. Sophie tossed back the rest of her wine.
“Mom!” she said sharply, pulling her mother out of a hushed conversation with Brynn. “I think we’ve all adequately enjoyed the drawing room.”
“Of course!” Marnie said, realizing that standing in their rarely used living room was hardly the way to make her potential future son-in-law feel more at home. “Come into the kitchen; it’s far more cozy!”
Will and Sophie exchanged a look. Her mom had recently hired an interior designer to make over their house in “industrial mod.” “Cozy” it was not.
Marnie linked arms with Brynn and they left the room in a flurry of whispers. Will followed them, making soft mimicking noises behind Brynn’s back.
“So what do you know about the Mariners?” Sophie’s father said to Gray, as he led him toward the kitchen. Sophie trailed after them, trying to keep her eyes pinned on the back of her father’s head so her gaze didn’t drift to Gray’s back. She hadn’t seen him from this angle before, and it was every bit as yummy as the front.
Stop. It.
“Um, I’m not as familiar with Seattle pro sports teams as I’d like,” Gray was saying stiffly. Sophie rolled her eyes. At least his horrible conversation skills weren’t limited to her.
Gray stopped abruptly in the hallway and turned back toward Sophie. “Miss Dalton, I was wondering if you might show me to the restroom?”
She jolted slightly as she realized he was addressing her, and she swallowed dryly. “Um, sure, it’s just down the hall on the right—”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her in that direction, while an oblivious Chris continued to the kitchen, still rambling about ERAs and RBIs.
Gray shoved Sophie roughly into the tiny powder room and shut the door behind them.
“Well this is familiar,” Sophie said. “You, me, small dark spaces. Animosity. The sister element is new, though. Quite the twist—”
The light flickered on, and she found Gray glaring down at her.
“I think I liked the dark better,” she muttered. “I certainly haven’t missed your scowl.”
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. His lips were pressed together so tightly it was a wonder any sound came out.
“What do you mean what am I doing here? You’re in my parents’ house. Sunday dinners have been a weekly occurrence for a couple decades now. You’re the newcomer.”
His jaw twitched as though irritated to be caught asking the obvious. “You never said you were from Seattle,” he accused.
Sophie’s temper spiked. How was this horrible coincidence her fault? “You never asked! I was merely playing dress-up at my cousin’s bachelorette party, but you were too busy assuming I was a hooker,” she hissed. “Which I’m not. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he snarled. Gray glanced down at her worn jeans and seriously ancient Stanford T-shirt. His gaze seemed to linger on her midriff, and Sophie resisted the urge to tug at the hem of her shirt. She was well covered compared to the last time she’d seen him, but something about the way this man looked at her made her feel…naked.
“I knew my sister had horrible taste in men, but you’re a new low. You’re judgmental, cruel, heartless—”
Gray took a step closer until her back pressed against the bathroom door. Dimly she realized they were both breathing hard, and the sound of their panting in the tiny room felt entirely too erotic given that she did not like this man.
“I find it difficult to believe that you can be related to someone like Brynn,” he said, his eyes moving over her once more.
“Why, because she’s so proper and I’m so slutty?”
Gray growled. “No, it’s just…Look, I obviously made a mistake about the prostitute thing, and I’m sorry. But we can’t just fake our way through the evening. Is there any excuse you can give to leave?”
She pushed at his shoulders in outrage, but he didn’t budge. “You want me to weasel out of my own family’s dinner so you’re more comfortable? You’re the interloper. You leave!”
“I’m a guest; that would be rude.”
Sophie gave an indelicate snort. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Gray’s eyes closed briefly, and for a minute he looked almost weary. “This is what I get for agreeing to come to a woman’s house who I barely know.”
Something twisted in Sophie’s stomach. “So you and my sister aren’t serious?”
She didn’t know why she asked. Or why the answer was somehow important.
His eyes opened and they locked with hers before drifting to her mouth. “No. A couple of casual dates. More companionship than romance.”
“Oh,” Sophie said, licking her dry lips. “I don’t like you,” she blurted out, feeling very much like a fourth grader. But she’d had to say something. He was just so close.
“I don’t like you much either,” he said.
But the way their bodies leaned toward each other made liars out of both of them.
What is this? Sophie thought with panic. This man is everything you despise.
And yet, she wanted…
Brynn’s voice calling Gray’s name had them both jerking back. Unfortunately for Sophie, jerking back meant slamming her head against the back of the door.
“Ouch,” she yelped.
His expression turned almost gentle as he reached out a hand toward the spot she was rubbing, but again, Brynn’s voice had him pulling back.
“Gray? Did you get lost?” Brynn called.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Shit,” Sophie echoed.
“You go,” she whispered. “I’ll stay here and follow in a minute. I’ll pretend I was upstairs or something.”
He hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Maybe we shouldn’t mention…”
“Oh, please,” Sophie interrupted. “As if I want my family to know about our little history.”
Gray gave one last nod before opening the bathroom door and slipping out. Sophie leaned back against the door as she heard Gray greet her sister. “Sorry about that. I took a few wrong turns before finding the bathroom.”
Brynn laughed softly. “That’s what you get for asking Sophie for directions.”
Sophie rolled her eyes, although the light insult didn’t really sting. Brynn could be uptight and condescending at times, but she wasn’t as difficult as their parents. Most of the time she and Sophie got along pretty well, which was saying something for sisters who’d grown up fighting over car keys, prom dates, and too-tight sweaters.
Sophie stayed in the bathroom for several minutes trying to gather her thoughts. In all the time she’d spent replaying the Las Vegas incident in her head, she’d never once imagined having to see Gray again.
On one hand, it was a relief that there was no longer someone out there thinking she was a prostitute.
But on the other hand, the man made her uncomfortable.
And angry.
And, most annoying of all, he made her feel a little…tingly.
Hearing her mother yelling for her, Sophie reluctantly shuffled into the kitchen and reclaimed her spot at the bar stool next to Will. Nobody acknowledged her return.
Sophie risked a glance at Gray. But he’d apparently decided the best course of action was to pretend she didn’t exist, and didn’t once look her way. Which suited Sophie just fine—she’d happily let Brynn absorb all of that surly, scowling attention.
Didn’t mean she couldn’t study him, though. It was somewhat reassuring to realize that he looked exactly the same as she remembered. Fastidious and boring. The suit had been replaced by khakis and a button-down, but the military-cut dark hair, tense jaw, and piercing gaze were all familiar.
Sophie’s eyes moved to her sister. As usual, Brynn’s light blonde hair fell in a sleek, straight swish around her shoulders. Her light blue sweater set was the perfect color for her gray-blue eyes, and her conservative silk skirt didn’t have a single wrinkle.
Gray had said they’d only been on a couple casual dates. Did that mean…sex? Sophie glanced between the two of them, considering. Instinct told her no. There was too much pretense. Brynn hadn’t once let her orthodontist smile waver, and Gray was hardly staring at Brynn with besotted adoration.
His knuckles were clenched around his wineglass, and his posture held all the approachability of an army general. Sophie had to admit that his tension was perhaps warranted for once. Marnie was currently trying to convince him of the merits of buying a home in the suburbs.
“There’s just so much more room away from the city to start a family!” Marnie was saying to a stricken-looking Gray.
Sophie couldn’t help it. She felt sorry for the guy. There were some things you protected even your worst enemy from. Marnie Dalton was one of them.
She dug her tennis shoe into Will’s shin, trying not to think about how scrubby she must seem in comparison with Brynn’s country-club attire. At least she wasn’t wearing her hooker boots.
Will shot her an irritated glance. What?
Do something! She flicked her eyes obviously in Gray’s direction.
His lip curled. No.
Her toe hit his shin again with more force.
He cut her a glare. You owe me.
“So, Gray,” Will interrupted grudgingly, “how did you and Brynn meet?”
Marnie gasped. “Of course! I didn’t even think to ask. How considerate, William.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. Easy, Mom. Take on one dinner guest at a time. And she’d have bet her nonexistent life savings that Brynn had already told her mother exactly how they’d met. Marnie probably had an entire scrapbook dedicated to it.
“We met at the gym, actually,” Brynn said, setting her hand on Gray’s overworked bicep. “He was at the treadmill next to me, and when I dropped my iPod, he picked it up.”
“Naturally, I had to ask her to dinner,” Gray said with all the emotion of a cyborg.
“Oh, naturally,” Sophie said around a piece of bread. Her mother gave her a warning glare.
“Honey, is dinner ready? I’m starving,” Sophie’s dad said distractedly, tearing himself away from the kitchen TV.
“Let me just plate this chicken and we’re all set. Sophie, dear, if you could grab the wine, and, Brynn, take that salad to the table with you…”
“May I carry anything for you?” Gray asked.
Sophie rolled her eyes. Where were all these pretty manners when he’d left her standing like a cheap whore in a Las Vegas elevator lobby?
Marnie’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh, goodness, no. You just make yourself comfortable for our cozy little family meal. Will, show Gray into the dining room, would you?”
Sophie was so busy trying not to sit next to Gray, that she somehow ended up sitting across from him. Much worse. Now she had no way of not looking at him.
He gave her a tense glare. She responded with a cheery smile.
Sophie was just reaching for the salad bowl when her mother loudly cleared her throat and bowed her head. Brynn and Sophie exchanged a puzzled glance. They had never been a religious family. Marnie launched into a horribly maligned grace.
Sophie’s mother shot Gray a pious look after she’d finished. “Thanks for humoring me, Gray. That’s a pre-meal prayer that’s been passed down from my great-great grandmother.”
“Interesting…” Sophie said. “I wouldn’t say it’s familiar, would you guys? Brynn? Dad?”
Brynn quickly hid a smirk behind her napkin, and even Chris seemed to be struggling not to laugh.
Marnie studiously ignored them and gave her white napkin a snap before letting it flutter to her lap. “So, Gray, Brynn mentioned you’re from Chicago. Do you have family there?”
Gray paused briefly before responding, and Sophie could have sworn she saw something raw flash across his face. “My brother actually lives here in Seattle. He’s in law school at the University of Washington. And my sister lives in New York.”
“What about your parents?” Sophie asked. She realized she had yet to speak directly to Gray, and the last thing she wanted was for her family to take note of her odd behavior.
“My parents are dead,” he replied flatly.
Whoops. Sophie’s family glared at her and she stared guiltily at her plate. As if she’d meant to hit on a painful topic.
“Tell me, how is it that a fine, successful fellow like yourself isn’t married yet?” Will asked with sham interest.
The silence around the table became even more pronounced. Sophie could have strangled Will. Sure, he’d distracted everyone from her faux pas over Gray’s dead parents, but her best friend knew full well that the topic of marriage at Sunday dinner was off-limits. Especially since Marnie was already mentally selecting wedding colors.
Gray stared at Will.
A welcome break from him staring at Sophie, but awkward nonetheless. The man really had to learn the art of fake smiling if he was going to survive in this family.
“I was engaged once. It didn’t work out,” Gray said finally.
Sophie jerked in surprise, her knee hitting the bottom of the table and sending her water glass sloshing onto the ivory tablecloth. Her mother shot her a death glare, but Sophie barely noticed. He’d been engaged? The thought of him proposing to anyone strained all of Sophie’s brainpower. And the thought of him being in love? Well, that simply did not compute.
The man couldn’t even make it through dinner with adequate conversation; how had he thought he’d survive marriage?
No wonder it hadn’t worked out.
With the awkwardness at the table reaching DEFCON ten, Brynn shot her a beseeching look, which Sophie tried to ignore. She knew what her sister wanted, and she wasn’t in the mood. Brynn wanted Sophie to sprinkle some ditzy conversation over the group—making everyone else comfortable by making herself into a clown.
Such antics had sort of become Sophie’s shtick over the past few years. While nobody in the family seemed to expect Sophie to be impressive, they’d come to rely on her as a sort of social wizard. At the awkward wedding when Uncle Abe had too much to drink? Here comes Sophie starting the conga line. Or at the fund-raising gala where Brynn slipped on a stuffed mushroom and tore her dress clear up to her hoo-ha? Enter Sophie with spontaneous karaoke.
But Sophie didn’t want to play that part tonight. Not in front of Gray. She was still reeling from the fact that the one man she’d hoped never to see again had infiltrated her personal life. She caught Brynn’s eye and shook her head. Not this time.
But then Sophie’s eyes fell on Gray and she felt a twinge of empathy. His face looked strained, and his knuckles were white around his fork. He was obviously out of his element.
And he had done her a favor by not outing her in front of her parents. Perhaps she could return the favor and make them even.
She sighed and gave in. It wasn’t like Gray’s opinion of her could slip any lower. Sophie took a bracing sip of wine and slipped into her flighty, charming mode.
“So, Gray,” Sophie said with an easy grin, “I don’t suppose Brynn has told you about the time that the two of us decided to camp in the backyard and got so scared by a raccoon that we both wet our pants?”
Brynn looked slightly ruffled, likely wishing Sophie hadn’t selected a story that involved her peeing in her Rainbow Brite panties. But, hey, if Sophie was taking one for the team, she was bringing Brynn down with her.
Sophie moved easily from story to story, carefully keeping the conversation light and substance-free.
By the time they’d finished dessert, Sophie had exhausted her arsenal of childhood memories, but her sister had relaxed and even Gray seemed to have temporarily released his shoulders from their military pose.
Marnie returned to the dining room carrying her grandmother’s silver coffee set.
Something she dusted off about once every…never. Not because Marnie wasn’t the silver set type. She totally was. The fancier and more antique, the better. But actually using the set meant getting it dirty. And dirty was not Marnie’s thing.
As Marnie poured the coffee and sliced an apple tart that was too perfect to be homemade, Sophie’s gaze caught on her father.
Oh no. Sophie knew her father’s “serious face” too well. Chris Dalton had apparently realized he was letting his daughter’s suitor off too easily.
“Uh-oh. Here we go,” Will whispered.
“Gray, what is it you do for a living?” Chris asked.
Gray cut a very precise bite of Marnie’s apple tart before responding, “I’m in the hospitality business. Hotel acquisitions, specifically.”
Chris leaned back in his chair and studied him. “So you’re a sales guy?” This was not a compliment.
“Sort of,” Gray replied.
Brynn set a hand on Gray’s arm. “He’s being modest. He’s the CEO and president of the company.”
“President, that’s not bad,” Chris said. “You must have a decent education behind you, then?”
“Dad,” Brynn said warningly.
“Yes, sir, I got both my bachelor’s degree and my MBA from Northwestern.”
“Mmm. Adequate. You probably got all the ‘wild’ out of your system in school? Ready to settle down and be a man?”
“Oh my God,” Sophie muttered into her coffee.
Gray set his coffee aside. “I’m not sure I was ever the ‘wild’ type, Mr. Dalton.”
“Shocker,” Will said as he helped himself to the rest of Sophie’s tart.
The table fell silent for several moments until Brynn broke the awkward quiet.
“Hey, Soph, how’s the job hunt going?”
Sophie closed her eyes briefly. Crraaaappp.
When she opened them, she wasn’t surprised to see her parents staring at her.
Brynn let out a distressed sigh as she read the situation. “They didn’t know.”
Sophie gave a sharp shake of her head.
“Sorry,” Brynn muttered. But the damage was done.
“Job hunt?” Marnie said, her voice two octaves above normal.
“Oh, Sophie,” her father said wearily. “You didn’t get let go, did you? In this economy, dive bars like Stimp’s…”
“It was Stump’s, Dad. I worked there for four years, how do you not know this? And no, I didn’t get fired. I quit.”
Somehow Marnie and Chris looked even more dismayed than when they thought she’d been fired.
“Well…okay,” Marnie said slowly. “I can’t say I’m not relieved that you won’t be working at that…dump any longer.”
Marnie turned to Gray, whom Sophie had been carefully avoiding. She could imagine what she’d read in his eyes: Wow, whorish and unemployed.
“Sorry to drag you into family business, Gray,” Marnie said with embarrassment. “It’s just that we worry about our Sophie here. Always a free spirit. She’s spent the past few years being a barfly and giving us heart palpitations worrying about her getting shot up by some alcoholic motorcycle ruffians.”
Will caught Sophie’s eye and mouthed, Motorcycle ruffians?
“It wasn’t that bad, Mom,” Sophie ground out. “Can we talk about this later?”
But Sophie’s father wasn’t ready to drop it. “Your sister said you were job hunting. Surely you didn’t quit one job before you had another lined up?”
Sophie took a gulp of her wine.
“Oh, Sophie,” her mother breathed in the tone known as Great Disappointment.
“I think it’s great,” Will said loyally. “Soph’ll find something in no time.”
“Says the man who’s been self-employed since age sixteen and only has to worry about himself,” Brynn muttered.
“Not everyone needs a laminated life plan to tell them what underwear to wear and what job to take,” Will snapped back.
“At least I wear underwear,” Brynn swiped back.
Gray looked puzzled at the vehemence of Brynn and Will’s snapping. Don’t try to make sense of it, Sophie thought. They hate each other just for breathing.
“More dessert?” Sophie asked the group brightly. All she wanted to do was head home and cry into a bubble bath. It was an especially practical idea since she probably couldn’t afford tissues or her water bill. Her tears could just fill the tub.
“Hey, Gray,” Brynn was saying in a thoughtful voice. “Didn’t you say your new secretary backed out at the last minute?”
Sophie’s eyes flew to her sister at the random change in subject. Nothing about Brynn was ever random. Sophie went on high alert, and allowed herself a brief look at Gray. He too looked wary.
Well…more wary, anyway.
“Yes,” he replied stiffly. “Laura was supposed to start tomorrow, but her fiancé received a job offer in Atlanta that they couldn’t pass up.”
“So you’re short a staff member,” Brynn pressed. “Going to be pretty tough to be CEO if you’re trying to answer your own phone.”
Oh no. No no no. Fire alarms started blaring in Sophie’s head.
“Brynn,” she began in a warning tone.
But her sister ignored her and remained fixed on Gray. “Well, I was just thinking…you’re short an assistant, and Sophie’s short a job.”
Sophie saw the moment Gray realized what Brynn was up to. His eyes widened in horror.
Yeah. Exactly.
“Brynn…” she said again.
Again, her sister ignored her plea. “Sophie can easily adapt to the professional world. Sure she’s done mostly restaurant stuff for a few years, but back in college she spent a couple years as a temp receptionist, and she had a great internship during law school.”
Gray’s eyes flew to hers. “You went to law school?”
“Dropout,” Sophie said sweetly.
“But still,” Brynn pressed. “She would be a fantastic assistant.”
Gray continued to look a little dazed by Brynn’s suggestion. Even Sophie’s parents were staring at their oldest daughter in puzzlement, no doubt wondering why Brynn was trying to push Sophie’s mediocrity onto her new perfect boyfriend.
“You’re being a control freak,” Will told Brynn.
“I’m being helpful,” Brynn corrected, before leaning expectantly toward Gray. “So what do you think? You can at least give her a chance, right?”
“I, um…I don’t think…I suppose…”
Sophie realized in sudden horror what was about to happen. This man’s complete social ineptitude was about to land them both in an intolerable situation.
The pinched expression on Gray’s face said that having Sophie for an employee was the last thing he wanted. But the fumbling look of panic in his eyes was even more alarming; he didn’t know how to say no. He was about to make things worse.
“I am not working for your boyfriend,” Sophie said harshly, cutting off Gray’s babbling. “And I’m not working in a godforsaken office.”
“Now, Sophie,” her mother said, apparently coming around to the idea, “it could be a great opportunity…”
“An opportunity to what, learn how to staple?”
“You don’t know how to staple?” Will asked.
“It could get your foot in the door, Soph,” Chris said, looking thoughtful.
Great. Just great. Now her whole family was warming up to this ridiculous plot. Sophie looked at Will in desperation, but he just shrugged and rubbed his fingers together meaningfully.
Right.
Money.
Something she had none of. And something she’d need soon if she wanted to be able to pay her bills and eat something other than rice cakes. Shoulda thought of that before giving your two weeks’ notice, she reminded herself.
Gray cleared his throat roughly. “Ms. Dalton, it doesn’t sound like a career in hotel hospitality holds much interest for you, but I’d be happy to discuss the possibility of employment with you should you change your mind.”
Sophie was so startled to hear Gray addressing her directly that it took a few moments for the actual words to sink in.
She stared at him. “You want me to come work for you?”
His wince said it all. No.
“If you would like,” he replied, giving her an intent look with a hidden message.
Ah. There it was. He wanted her to get them out of this mess so he could save face. Here the perfect CEO was, throwing a bone at the pathetic, loser sister.
And his expression made it clear that as the poor loser sister, Sophie was supposed to do what her family was expecting her to do: refuse the responsible option.
For once, they were in agreement. Refusal had been on the tip of her tongue from the moment she’d realized where Brynn was going with her well-meaning interference.
The whole point of quitting Stump’s was to regain some self-respect. And working for a man who despised her was not the path to emotional validation.
Except…
“I accept,” she heard herself say.
Five pairs of startled eyes stared at her. Even Brynn looked surprised, and she was the one who’d engineered this whole disaster.
“Are you sure, Soph?” Will asked, looking uncharacteristically somber.
Not at all.
“Mr. Wyatt here offered me a great opportunity,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “As my parents so gently pointed out, I’d be a fool not to take it.”
She met Gray’s eyes as she said this, and the stormy disbelief she read there made her realize exactly why she’d done it.
Revenge.