Stone Cold Fox (26)



He most certainly had not. This was one of his well-trodden tricks. Collin would frequently drop unpleasant social plans on me, swear hand-to-God he’d told me about them previously, and then it would ultimately be my fault that I was in a sour mood about it. It was so routine at that point that normally I just nodded along, but this was beyond offensive considering the person in question. Our special weekend away and I had to spend it in the company of Gale Wallace-Leicester? A regular girlfriend would lay into Collin, huffing and puffing about the wildly inappropriate choice of guest considering the circumstances, derailing the entire weekend, potentially the whole proposal, at least for the moment. But I didn’t want Collin to be cross with me due to an extemporaneous outburst no matter how good it would have felt. I wanted him to feel bad of his own accord. Because of his own poor decision-making. His own idiocy.

“I thought this was our weekend?” I whined, but only slightly, at the pronoun specifically. This was a very valid question, but the desired result would be all in the tone and the delivery.

“It is, babe! It totally is. I’m sorry you’re disappointed,” he said. Hmm. Getting closer. “They’re staying at the house, but we won’t be attached at the hip or anything. I just thought it’d be nice to have dinner together one night to meet Gale’s new boyfriend. They have their own separate plans, too.”

I didn’t say anything. I merely sighed. I wanted more.

“I know,” Collin said, right on cue. “I shouldn’t have agreed when she asked, but she’s my friend. And a friend of the family. She’s always loved our Newport house, more than her parents’, and honestly when we have guests here, it’s like ships passing in the night so I didn’t think it was a big deal. I can call her and say that we’d rather she—”

“No, no!” I interrupted, ready to ascend to beloved martyr status. “You’ve already invited her. It wouldn’t be right to rescind. I understand. We’ll have a lovely dinner tonight, all together.”

“Thanks, babe.” He kissed me. “You’re the best.” Too right, you ass.

I wondered what sort of troll Gale managed to scrounge up for this charade. There was no way in hell she had a legitimate gentleman caller. The reasons were twofold. The first, she was utterly repellent, and the second, she was so hopelessly in love with Collin that she wouldn’t seriously consider anyone else. But perhaps I could lean into the silver linings presented. I knew I’d be anxious in anticipation of the proposal. Gale would be a good receptacle for any potential nervous energy. Keep it off Collin and foist it onto her. Something to do to keep my mind off the clock. She could obviously handle it. I continued to be impressed by her persistence to ruin me. Of course she asked Collin to stay at the Newport house, because she knew he wouldn’t have the balls to say no to her. But who would prevail as the true puppet master that evening? It would be me, but I wanted to observe her efforts. And just who was the man she was bringing? The curiosity element beckoned greatly. So I’d run with it. See? An attitude adjustment can change the whole game.

Mother taught me that, too.



* * *



? ? ?

THE STAFF SET out a magnificent tablescape on the east-facing deck, overlooking the sea. Fairy lights and candles and hydrangeas and expertly placed pieces of white chiffon all really set the mood. Gale and Luke had arrived seemingly under the cover of night, retreating to their bedroom without greeting us first. She must have wanted to freshen up before competing with the likes of me, as if she could compete at all. Bless. Would she remain laissez-faire about appearances now that I was officially in one of the Case family homes, not merely as a guest, but as a hostess? If there was any time for her to step it up, the time was now. She must have known that. So what was she going to bring to the table in an attempt to throw me off my game? I was dying to find out. And I truly couldn’t wait to catch our first glimpse of the illustrious “Luke from Duke.”

Collin and I were having a predinner cocktail—old fashioned for him, a gimlet for me, I was on vacation—adorably hand in hand in a couple of Adirondack chairs, gazing upon the Atlantic, when the French doors swung open to reveal the gruesome twosome.

Luke was about six-two with sandy blond hair, impeccably dressed in classic American prep attire with loafers, and had a smile so bright he could start a fire. He had a hand, arm or finger touching Gale at all times.

“Hello, you two,” Gale crowed in a printed muumuu of a dress that required belting for any semblance of style, but it was clear that she was trying to level up there in her own misguided way. I threw back a big gulp of my drink and linked arms with Collin to approach them up at the dining area.

“Welcome!” I said, firmly latching onto the lady-of-the-house role. “I hope your accommodations are to your liking. This must be Luke.”

“Great to meet you both,” he said, holding out his hand, first to me and then to Collin. He made pointed eye contact and said both of our names aloud with each shake. Okay, Dale Carnegie. I saw exactly what he was doing while Collin remained oblivious.

“So happy you guys are here.” Collin grinned. The poor sap looked genuinely happy for Gale, it was all over his face, dimples popping, teeth shining. I was so disappointed in Collin. How could he not see that this coupling would not happen in a frozen hell on any planet in the universe? Part of his charm, I suppose. An oblivious man makes for an ideal husband. I’d always have to keep telling myself that, wouldn’t I?

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