Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(16)

Richard smiled. “I think they need me on stage in a minute or two. Everly, so happy to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Richard hadn’t seemed to notice Svetlana’s silence. I was surprised she wasn’t digging her fingernails into his arm. But he walked away with her as if nothing was amiss. As if he’d just had a pleasant interaction with his son and his girlfriend, nothing more.

Shepherd let out a breath and released my hand.

“Well, that was interesting,” I said. “Any more family members lurking? Should I be prepared to meet your grandma too?”

He shot me a glare. “No. Just him.”

“He was with—”

“I know,” he snapped. “Believe me, I know.”

He put his hand on my back again and led me to the bar. He ordered a Manhattan and glanced at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Same for me,” I said.

“And she drinks whiskey? Interesting.”

“It’s a classic.”

We waited a few minutes while the bartender mixed our drinks. Shepherd handed the first one to me, then took a long swallow of his. We wandered away from the bar to a tall table near the edge of the room.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” I asked. “What is she doing with your dad?”

Shepherd took another drink and cleared his throat. “My dad doesn’t know.”

“I kind of guessed that. She’s obviously doing it on purpose, though, right?”

“Clearly.”

“Do you know how they met?” It was so odd to be having such an in-depth conversation with him. I was having a hard time not zoning out, watching his lips move. They were very nice lips.

Focus, Everly.

“My dad owns the resort I sent her to. Apparently he decided to take an impromptu trip to figure some things out, whatever that means. He met her there.”

“Why on earth didn’t you pull him aside and tell him?”

He shook his head. “Not here. Not in public. My dad is… sensitive.”

I laughed, and Shepherd shot me a glare. “Sensitive? Really?”

“Yes, sensitive. This is going to be hard for him to take. He’s going to feel very violated and he’ll need time to process it. In private. Plus, he’s getting an award tonight and I didn’t want to ruin that for him.”

“I’m sorry, but are you sure he’s your real dad?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect to discover you have a father who’s too sensitive to find out he’s dating his son’s ex-hussy-gold-digger.”

Shepherd opened his mouth, but closed it again. Then he did something I’d never seen before. He smiled. Shepherd Calloway actually smiled.

Oh. My. God. Did that look good on him. He had dimples in those cheeks. For a second, I felt like I’d do just about anything to get him to smile again.

“Ex-hussy-gold-digger?”

I glanced down at my drink. Had that champagne earlier gotten to me faster than I’d thought? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, what do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I just never liked her. It was so obvious she didn’t care about you, she just wanted your money.”

“And that bothered you?”

“Well, yeah. I know we’re not… I mean, we aren’t really… we’re not friends or anything. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I didn’t like the way she treated you. You deserve better.”

He eyed me for a moment, then looked away and took another sip. I was talking too freely, and I knew I was going to regret it later. Maybe it was the dress, or sharing a drink with him in a situation that made us look like peers rather than boss and employee. But I needed to be very careful, or the floodgates would open, and I’d find myself saying a lot of things I shouldn’t.

Like how fucking delicious he looked in that tux.

I held up my drink, glaring at it like it had betrayed me. Seriously, was I drunk? I could not think of him as delicious, tux or no.

Get it together, Everly.

While we finished our drinks, the emcee took the mic and gave a lengthy introduction. He talked about Richard, and the impact of his generosity on the community. Richard walked up on stage, beaming. I could tell his smile came naturally; unlike his son, he seemed to do it often. He gave a heartfelt thank you speech and received a standing ovation.

“Wow,” I said, when the noise had died down and people had gone back to mingling. “Your dad seems like a good man. Why have I never met him before?”

“We’re both busy,” Shepherd said.

We left our empty glasses on the table and Shepherd started making the rounds, talking to people. He kept up the pretense that I was his date, guiding me around the room with his hand on my lower back, or lightly gripping my elbow. He even ran his hand up and down my arm a few times, a soft touch that made my heart race and my skin tingle. I looked around, expecting to see Svetlana watching us, but I didn’t see her, or Shepherd’s father, again.

I went along with it, staying by his side. Leaning into him when he seemed to expect it. Smiling when he introduced me to people. He offered to get me another drink, but I declined. After the champagne and the Manhattan, I was in danger of bypassing a little tipsy and heading straight for telling inappropriate stories and asking strangers for hugs.