Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(44)
“Accident?” she finished for him. “No, it waren’t. ’N’ we both know it.”
He stared down at the table, knowing that he’d been bested and it was time to shut up.
“Ya never kissed me ’n’ ya never, ever touched m’ body, Brodie Walsh. Now, ya go on ’n’ admit that ’n’ we can let this go as friends. If not . . .”
He raised his head, nailing her with his eyes.
The thing about living on a small island? Everyone had a little dirt on everyone else. Brodie didn’t know what Laire had on him, but she could tell from his expression, he’d just as soon she keep it to herself.
“Fine. We din’t do nothin’,” he said, looking around the table at her kinfolk. He turned back to her and sneered at her as he bit out, “Happy now?”
“Overjoyed,” she answered acidly. “’N’ you will stop spreadin’ lies ’bout me.”
“Don’t matter nohow,” he said, looking across the church fellowship hall at Maddie Dunlop. He folded up his napkin, which he plopped on the table before him. “I got juicier fish t’ fry.” He stood up to his full six feet, two inches, and looked down his nose at Laire.
“Well, go fry ’em then, ’n’ let me ’n’ mine be.” Not one to back away, she looked up at him squarely in the eyes. “Give Maddie my regrets.”
“Cold bitch,” murmured Brodie as he pushed back his chair and sauntered away in Maddie’s direction.
Laire took a deep breath, pulled out her chair, and sat down, looking up at her sister, who stared at her in disapproval.
“He was a good catch,” said Isolde. “Shouldn’t have done that, Laire.”
“Nice enough kid,” added Roland. “Just a little wild. Ya could’ve tamed him.”
“Can’t just refuse everyone. You two would’ve made real pretty babies,” said Rachel, who wasn’t the prettiest or youngest girl on Corey and would likely be stuck marrying one of the Masterson twins.
Rachel grinned at Harlan, who averted his glance quickly so as not to encourage her. Single like Laire and only a year older, he winked at her. “Good on ya, Laire. He’s a jackass, all gassed up ’bout hisself. Not half good ’nough for m’cousin.”
“Thanks, Harlan,” she said, sitting down beside him and grateful for his camaraderie. Issy’s husband, Paul, mercifully changed the subject to summer tourists on Ocracoke and Kyrstin and Remy’s plan to open an inn on Corey, which kept them all busy for the rest of the reception.
“Water over here, miss?”
Laire was jolted back to the present and sighed, refilling a patron’s water glass with a polite smile, though she was still fuming about Brodie inside.
Since Laire’s uncle had already found out about Brodie’s comments, she could only assume her father had too, and she just hoped that the small scene that played out at the wedding would get back to him. She didn’t want him thinking she and Brodie had an understanding or, worse, that she’d let him touch her and then changed her mind. Nice girls didn’t do things like that. It occurred to her to say something directly to her father, but she shivered with embarrassment. She couldn’t imagine, even in her wildest nightmares, discussing something so awkward with her daddy. Maybe it would all just blow over now. She hoped so.
And just as that comforting thought passed through her head, Erik Rexford rounded the corner of the barroom and sat down in his regular seat, his eyes seeking and meeting hers with a twinkle and a smile. Her heart burst with happiness, and she held her hand up in greeting.
Yes, everything would be just fine now.
***
Erik nursed his beer, stealing glances at Laire whenever she passed by the bar. He had been jumpy this morning, eager to get back to the Banks and see her, but even more anxious to get away from his mother and Vanessa, who had been anything but subtle over the long, annoying weekend.
From Vanessa surprising him with a unwanted peck on the lips for the photographers at his mother’s gala on Wednesday evening, to an intimate dinner with both sets of parents on Friday, followed by Van’s whiny insistence that he accompany her to her sorority sister’s birthday party at a swanky downtown restaurant on Saturday, it felt like she and his mother had been plotting up a storm. Even though his mother had promised not to say anything about Erik and Vanessa dating, Van was acting like they were a bona fide couple, and her actions had Fancy’s stamp of approval all over them.
And he was sending Vanessa wildly different signals: near his mother, he kept his arm around her waist or shoulders, but when Fancy wasn’t in play, he was careful not to touch Van at all, because every time he did, he felt like he was betraying Laire’s trust.
Not to mention, it wasn’t fair to Vanessa. He knew it wasn’t fair, but he just wasn’t sure what to do about it. He didn’t want Fancy digging into where he was spending all his time this summer. He needed her to think he was spending time with Van so she would leave him alone.
They were halfway through the summer now, with only five more weeks until he had to return to Duke, and he felt—keenly—the way time was winding down. Maybe he could try to avoid Vanessa as much as possible. Lord knew he wanted to spend every waking moment with Laire, not Van.
. . . which was why tonight was so important to him.