“It’s nothing.” She knocks her shoulder against mine. “So, who do you want to meet next?” She nods to two guys lounging in red velvet armchairs near the back of the room. They’re dressed in the richly patterned button-ups that mark them as members of Macy’s group. “That’s Cam and his best friend.”
“Cam?” She said the name as though I should recognize it, but I don’t.
“My boyfriend. He’s been dying to meet you. Come on.”
Pretty hard to say no to that, so I don’t even try, though I know Cam and anyone else who is “dying to meet” the new girl are destined to be disappointed. I’m just not that interesting.
“Cam! This is the cousin I was telling you about!” Macy squeals before we even get next to her boyfriend.
He stands and holds out a hand. “Grace, right?”
“Yes.” I shake his hand, and as I do, I can’t help noticing how pasty his skin is. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too. Macy’s been talking about you coming for weeks now.” He grins at me. “Hope you like snow, surfer girl.”
I don’t bother to tell him that I’m not much of a surfer. God knows I’m guilty of stereotyping, too—before I got here, I was half certain I’d be living in an igloo.
“I don’t know if I do or not,” I tell him. “Yesterday was the first time I’ve ever seen it.”
That gets his attention—and his friend’s, too. “You’ve never seen snow?” the other guy asks incredulously. “Ever?”
“Nope.”
“She’s from San Diego, James.” Macy looks, and sounds, exasperated. “Is that really so hard to believe?”
“I guess not.” He shrugs and sends me a grin that I can tell is meant to be charming but grossly misses the mark. I’ve always hated guys who look at girls like they’re food meant to be gobbled up. “Hi, Grace.”
He doesn’t extend his hand, and I definitely don’t extend mine. “Hi.”
“So what do you think of Alaska so far?” Cam asks as he loops an arm around Macy’s waist. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he sits back down, pulling my cousin onto his lap as he does.
Before I can answer, he’s got his face buried in Macy’s neck and she’s giggling, her hands threading their way through his sleek brown hair as she burrows into him.
Which is pretty much my cue to leave, as things suddenly get really awkward. Especially since James continues to stare at me like he’s waiting to see if I’m going to plop myself down on his lap—which, for the record, I most definitely am not.
“I, uh, need another drink,” I tell him, awkwardly holding up my still mostly full can of Dr Pepper.
“I can get it for you,” he offers, starting forward, but I take a big step back.
“You don’t have to.”
“You okay, Grace?” Macy breaks off her giggling long enough to ask, completely serious.
“Yeah, of course. I’m fine. I’m just—” Once again, I hold up my Dr Pepper. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Cam must do something super sexy to her, because Macy’s laugh changes, gets lower, about the same time I lose all her attention.
I don’t wait for James to offer again—or worse, insist. Instead, I take off across the room like a shot. But I barely make it to the drinks table before two very large, very warm hands land on my shoulders.
10
Turns Out
the Devil Wears
Gucci
I freeze, my heart running wild as NotJames NotJames NotJames runs through my head like a mantra on overdrive. I mean, seriously. Don’t I have enough on my plate right now? Do I really need some jerk trying to make me his afternoon snack as well?
But before I can figure out what to say, the guy leans forward and—in a low, rich voice—asks, “Want a piggyback ride?”
And just like that, the tension dissolves, leaving nothing but a cautious joy in its place. “Flint!” I whirl around to find him grinning at me, amber eyes dancing wickedly.
“Hey there, New Girl,” he drawls. “Having fun?”
“Absolutely.” I hold up my Dr Pepper. “Doesn’t it look like I’m having a good time?”
“It looks like someone can’t take a hint, so I thought I’d lend a hand.” As one, we shift to watch James—who, as it turns out, did follow me to the drink table—sulkily make his way back to Cam and Macy, who are still wrapped up in each other.