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“You're here again, with Pierce.”

“I am. That’s what couples do, isn’t it?”

“And Benson is here with his new… fiancée.” I fight the instinct to curl my fingers into tight fists. Instead, I clear my throat and plaster the practiced smile across my face. “Does your boyfriend still suspect me of wrongdoing?”

“Wouldn't know. You really don't come up during sex.”

Amusement flashes across his face. “Too bad. I might enjoy that.”

“You're a disgusting pig.”

“Maybe we could all have some fun together.”

“Together?” That sounds like a terrible idea. “I’m not really into that kind of thing.”

“Thanksgiving, you and Pierce come to Camp David with me and Cindy and a few others.” He tips his chin toward a voluptuous blonde. “I must insist.”

“Must you?”

“It's not a request, Walmart.”

I swallow past a dry mouth and throat. “We're not at that point yet. You know, the whole weekend getaway.” I give a nervous laugh, searching the room for Sam, anyone who will help me. “That’s a big step in a relationship.”

“Again, Walmart, not a request. You want to uphold your contract,” he hisses close so no one else can hear his words, “then you bring that fucker to Camp David. There you'll show him just how much you support and trust me.”

“Like group trust exercises or something?”

“Something like that. Plan to be there for lunch and staying the night.”

I narrow my eyes. “I am not, I repeat,nottossing my keys into a fishbowl to prove my loyalty.”

His condescending chuckle rakes on my already frayed nerves. Heat builds beneath my skin, making the tight dress even more suffocating than it already was. I sense beads of sweat building along my hairline.

“Oh, Walmart. You're hilarious. We don't use either.” Ice blue eyes narrow at me, allowing a window into the narcissist that lies within. “We take what we want. Not that you should be worried about that. You're still just as much trailer trash today as you were back then, and people know it. Besides, I have another surprise in mind.”

“Kyle, I don't—” I call after him as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to get out of here,” I say over my shoulder, knowing T is there. “Can someone please let Sam know I have to get out of here? Now.”

The crowd doesn’t budge as I try to squeeze through. Two familiar faces slide up close.

“What’s going on?” Trey's signature citrus and spice scent envelops my senses, though it’s a bit duller than usual.

“Are you okay, Randi?” Jessica asks, her tone light, no genuine concern filtering through.

“I need to get out of here.” I take another step, trying to break through the crowd, when the room sways. Both hands jut outward, desperate to hold on to anything, anyone to keep me on my feet. “T, I need some air.”

His heavy arm wraps around my waist, holding me close to his side. The crowd parts for us—mostly T’s wide frame as he barrels through—allowing us to make it across the full room in half the time. Outside, I savor the brush of the cool night air as it soothes the uncomfortable heat building beneath my flushed cheeks.

Leaning into T, I relax against him, knowing I’m safe with him close.

“What the fuck was that all about?” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear. “Kyle wanting me and Sam at Camp David? What is he up to?”

“Not sure, but nothing good, that's for certain.”

“He’s planning something. Let’s just hope it’s not poisoning the entire turkey to get to me.” I snort at the audacity, but T doesn’t laugh. “It was a joke. He wouldn’t dare risk that kind of exposure.”

“Wouldn’t he? Just to be on the safe side, I’ll have your cook prepare a few meals, and we’ll bring enough bottled water—”