Reception

Page 8

“Maybe it's a religious thing,” Tate suggested. “Maybe they're life long vegans. Maybe they're just fucking with you. Who cares? Call the caterer, tell them to have options.”
“And now you know why I never do these things,” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
“This was all your idea, bro. You can call it off whenever you want,” she told him.
“Might not be such a bad idea.”
Tate frowned. Jameson, giving up on something? Where was the fun in that? She sighed dramatically and stood up, collecting the nail polish and files as she moved.
“Say Rusty, remember Thursday?” she asked. Rusty squeaked at first, as if she was shocked that they even knew she was there.
“Uh … yes?”
“The day I invited you over.”
“Yeah, I remember it.”
“Remember the guy who stopped by, Rich?”
“Sure.”
“What did you think of him?” Tate asked, absent mindedly filing one of her nails while she spoke.
“Um … he seemed nice?” Rusty replied, sounding questioning. Her gaze flicked between Tate and Jameson.
“Yeah, he did, didn't he? He's our age, don't you think?”
“Yeah, I'd guess so.”
“Gorgeous eyes. Did you see them? Deep blue.”
“Tatum,” Jameson said in a low voice, startling Rusty.
“Yeah, I thought they were brown at first, they were so dark,” she finally replied. “He was pretty hot in general.”
“He was, wasn't he? He was supposed to be at this party, I thought it would be perfect for you two to maybe get to know each other. But since Jameson is canceling it, I guess I'll have to call Rich up and arrange a coffee date for us all.”
“Tate,” Jameson's voice was sharp that time, full of warning. She waved her hand at him impatiently.
“Don't worry, we won't invite you. Just the three of us. Monday afternoon good for you, Rus?” she asked.
“Uh, no, actually. I have to open the bar,” Rusty reminded her.
“Oh, poo, that's right. Well, I'll have coffee alone with Rich, and I'll put in some good words for you. He was so nice, wasn't he? And the way he looked in those shorts, I was – ack!” Tate let out a startled yelp when Jameson grabbed her by the waist of her pants and yanked her off her feet. She fell into his lap, her pedicure supplies flying all over the place.
“I know what you're trying to do,” Jameson growled in her ear as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. “And I get it, but enough is enough.”
“What? You said the party was canceled, and I think a good looking guy like that shouldn't be single. It's my duty to find him a nice girl,” Tate laughed, squirming against his hold. It didn't do any good, though, he just squeezed tighter and she found herself gasping for air.
“Rusty,” he suddenly said, directing his attention to the woman in the other lounge chair. She swallowed visibly and her eyes were so big, they seemed to take up half her face.
“Y-yes?” she stammered.
“Did I ever tell you that I was always partial to redheads?”
She went pale at that statement and Tate struggled to keep from bursting out laughing.
“I think I'll go inside now,” Rusty replied hastily as she stumbled to her feet.
“Yes, thank you, run along now,” he called after her.
“You're not very nice to her,” Tate snorted, pulling at his wrists.
“I'm not very nice to anybody. So, 'gorgeous deep blue eyes', huh? That's what does it for you?” he asked. He loosened his grip but didn't entirely let her go. Instead, he let his hands wander under her t-shirt.
“Maybe. Are you going to cancel the party?” she asked, then hissed through her teeth when he pinched sensitive flesh.
“No. I've already paid for everything. Are you going to flirt with Rich Klimas all evening?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much trouble I'll get into if I do,” she breathed, leaning fully back against him, resting her head back on his shoulder.
“So much trouble,” he whispered back. “If I so much as catch you looking at him, you won't be able to walk right for a week. That much trouble.”
She shivered, then moaned when she felt his teeth against her earlobe.
“Then I am definitely going to flirt with him.”
5

Tate looked around the backyard. She could hardly believe she was at home. There were bales of hay stacked about for “ambiance” and a huge barbecue was back by the pool house. Amazing smells were wafting away from it. A bevy of young men and women were walking around in matching outfits – jeans and gingham t-shirts. They carried appetizers and cocktails and, hilariously enough, PBR in tall-boy cans.
Satan must be shitting himself.
Jameson was actually mingling and chatting away. When she finally located him, he was laughing at something one of his partners said. Then he caught her staring at him and he glanced over his sunglasses, cocking up an eyebrow at her.
Yup. He's definitely uncomfortable.
Things were going pretty smoothly. At first, when everyone had shown up, things had been stiff and uneasy. A bunch of young brokers at the Jameson Kane's home – they hadn't known what to do with themselves. Luckily, Tate was a born partier, and Rusty wasn't too far behind her. They got everyone laughing and talking quickly enough, and pretty soon everyone was having a great time.
And bonus points for Tate, she hadn't spoken to Richard Klimas once. Several times she'd seen him making his way towards her and she'd taken evasive maneuvers. There were plenty of women at the party, he could find someone else to flirt with – she still couldn't figure out why he'd set his sights on her. Because of Jameson? Didn't he know better? There was only one outcome to a pissing contest with Jameson Kane.
She hoped Rich liked losing.
“Hey!” she said loudly as she sidled up to Rusty's side. The light was catching Rusty's hair, making it look like a fiery halo around her head. Combined with the flush in her cheeks and her wide, expressive eyes, she looked like a real life angel come to earth.
The man she's talking to certainly seems to think so.