I turn around and hold my hair to the side and out of his way. “All right. I’ll find a way to get you out of it. I can’t promise that you’ll like it more than golf, though.”
“Virtually anything would be better.” His hands hover above my shoulders, sending a thousand shivers across my skin. “There. You’re all set. It’s a beautiful necklace.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks flush with heat. “It’s my favorite.”
“So, we have a deal?” He holds out his hand for me to shake.
I shake his hand. “Deal.”
He opens the door and presses his hand to my lower back. His touch is light, almost imperceptible, but to me it feels like a hot knife slicing through butter. It’s been far too long since someone’s touch has melted me, real or not, and I’d forgotten how exciting it is.
“After you,” he says. “By the way, you look very nice tonight.”
“Aw, I’m sure you say that to all the girls you fake date.”
“Actually, you’re my first.”
He smiles at me devilishly, and I somehow manage to resist the urge to make a joke about virginity. No matter what performance Martin and I put on this evening, keeping my mouth closed right now is my Academy Award–winning moment.
We breeze down the hallway at a steady clip. I give him the abridged version of my history with Smith, and he gives me some basic details about his life. He’s the youngest of five and the only son. He’s originally from Kentucky, went to college at Yale, and moved to California a few months ago after my father hired him.
“Why not go back home for Thanksgiving?” I ask. “I mean, believe me, I understand not wanting to go home, but isn’t staying with your boss’s family just as stressful?”
“I don’t know if you know this,” he whispers as we round the corner to the dining room, “but your dad is a pretty cool guy.”
“No one in my entire life has ever called my dad cool,” I say. “Is your family the Donner Party?”
“They’re actually gluten-free vegans.”
“From Kentucky?”
“A rare breed.”
“Somehow that seems worse.”
“You have no idea.”
I hold my breath as we cross the threshold into the dining room. My parents are on opposite ends of the table in their usual seats with their drinks. Scotch on the rocks for my dad. A glass of white wine for my mother. Phoebe and Falon are across from one another, each with an espresso martini, leaving two seats directly across from Smith open for Martin and me. If my anxiety was on the Richter scale, this would be the big one California’s been waiting for.
Martin gives my lower back another little pat, only this time it doesn’t make me go all melty inside. Not with Smith sitting at my dining room table with his leather bag slung across the back of his chair. Why would he bring that bag with my ring into my house? Is he worried that someone will break into his house and steal it, thus ruining his chances of proposing to his stupid air-fryer girlfriend?
“Look what the tugboat finally dragged in.” Nana Rosie smiles. “Come have a drink with us before Smith thinks you’re avoiding him.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” my father says dryly. “Penny, it looks like you and Martin have been introduced.”
Smith quirks an eyebrow, and suddenly I’m frozen. Martin might not even need to put on a show at all. This whole ridiculous idea might unravel before we even take our seats.
“To Smith?” Martin pulls out my chair and then holds out his hand to Smith. “No, we haven’t. Nice to meet you. I’m Martin Butler. I work for Carter.”
“Oh, he’s being modest,” my mother interjects. “Martin’s on the partner track at Carter’s firm. He’s an incredible engineer and formidable businessman. Isn’t he, Carter?”
“Yes, he’s a valuable asset to the firm,” my father confirms. “Penelope, did you know that Martin attended Yale?”
“Of course I did, Dad.” I drum my fingers on my thighs nervously. I swear I can feel Smith mentally poking holes in my charade. “You know what? I’m going to get us some drinks.”
“If you wait a moment, Marie will be out with appetizers, and you can tell her what you’d like to drink,” my mother says.
“No, I’m pretty parched.” I stand and slide my chair back in. “What about you, Martin? Are you parched? You look parched.”