Page 20

Chapter 20

He needed a slapping

Callie

Cooper had rented a Lexus at the airport to drive us. He’d also booked us a suite at a nearby hotel. Because of the wedding, apparently there wasn’t a lot of room at the family home. I was more comfortable with the idea of staying in a hotel than a private house anyway.

Of course, my idea of a hotel room differed from his. He’d gotten the penthouse, which included a huge seating area with a piano, of all the absurd things, as well as two entire primary bedrooms with their own bathrooms. There was a kitchen that I had no intention of using, and a view over the city. Everything was in muted beige and brown, luxurious and comfortable.

It made me itchy. The contrast with my place was vast.

“Why don’t you freshen up? We’ll go and meet everyone at the house for dinner.”

Right. Time to shower and put on expensive clothing. “I won’t be long.”

I was a little self-conscious, sharing space this closely with Cooper. I’d expected two separate rooms, not this. This was like my living arrangement with Darcy, and I didn’t think of Darcy the way I did Cooper. Darcy was, for all intents and purposes, my brother.

I did not feel brotherly around Cooper. My feelings for him were veering into dangerously intimate territory, without that platonic shield. I’d seen him without his layer of charm, and he’d learned things about me that I didn’t share. He was attractive, but more than that, he was good. Trustworthy. Kind. And tempting. But he had wanted a date who wouldn’t get ideas, so it was a good thing I couldn’t be interested in anything like that.

He was also very particular. I might have invested in appropriate lingerie and clothes for the wedding events, but I’d brought an old T-shirt and sleep shorts to wear at night. I’d need to be sure I was done for the day before I changed into those. Mr. Fussy would not approve.

There were expensive hair and bath products in the shower, and thick towels that actually absorbed. I took a long shower, enjoying the water pressure and heat, before getting ready for my performance. I hoped I could pull it off. Cooper was fulfilling his side of the bargain, so now it was up to me.

He was waiting when I came out of my room, staring out the windows at the view of the city before turning to greet me, wearing a lightweight gray suit, with a blue shirt that brought out his eyes. That was what he’d done to me—I noticed those things now.

“Gorgeous, Callie.”

I glanced down, as if I didn’t know what I was wearing. “You chose well.”

The dress was in a buttery yellow. It was sleeveless, with wide straps that gave lots of support and kept the dress from looking too formal. A high neckline, not exposing cleavage or too many freckles. It flared from under my bust, and draped in a way that made me look taller and slimmer. I was wearing tan slingbacks with a matching purse. My hair was up in a French twist, and I used a stronger lipstick shade than I usually wore.

I was pretty shocked myself at how poised and elegant I looked.

“Um, you look good as well. Will everyone be dressed like this?”

“You’ll fit right in.”

My shoulders relaxed. He understood what I really wanted to know.

“Shall we?”

I drew in a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

* * *

I’d been prepared for a pretty nice house when we went to his family’s home, but this was nice on a different level. The house was set back from the street with a tall stone wall. It was three stories high and even had a circle driveway at the front door. Red brick, looking New England, Mayflower, Waspy and rich. Cooper had definitely grown up with privilege. The driveway was full of cars, and there was a valet to take our rental. I was pretty sure the valet was just for this dinner party, but this was the kind of place that made you wonder. The door was standing open, and I followed Cooper up the front stairs and through the doorway.

It led to a large hallway where about twenty people were gathered with drinks and murmured conversation. These were Cooper’s family and the groom’s family. I examined them as we paused in the doorway. They were a gorgeous group, all attractive, white, and well off. There were beautiful paintings on the wall, an expensive-looking carpet on the floor, and gleaming wood paneling, but some of the foster homes I’d been in seemed welcoming in comparison. I was damned glad I was wearing Cooper-approved clothes, because these people took dressing seriously. More than at our corporate events at the firm.

A tall, elegant man with perfectly graying dark hair crossed to greet us. “Whit. Glad you could make it in time.”

I’d forgotten who Whit was until Cooper spoke. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Father, this is Calliope Smith, my plus-one for the weekend. Callie, this is my father, Preston Cooper.”

A beautiful and graceful woman followed him over. She had perfectly blonde hair, up in a twist like mine, and a dress even I could see was both expensive and flattering. Her eyes were the same color as Cooper’s. She had blue stones in her earrings and necklace—sapphires, maybe? Matching the sleek lines of her blue dress.

Cooper continued. “My mother, Kendall.”

Damn, she looked young. Her smile barely moved her face, so I leaned into my judgy side and decided she’d had work done.

More perfectly groomed people gathered before us. Cooper continued his introductions, looking stiffer with each one. “This is my brother, Pierce. The bride is my sister Tinsley, and her fiancé, Easton Yates.”

Cooper’s brother looked like a poor man’s Cooper, and that must have chafed him. Not quite as tall or as blond or as fit or good-looking. His sister had his father’s darker coloring but her mother’s perfect features. Her fiancé looked like a model from a preppy college catalog, one of the “successful alumni” shots. I was never going to remember all these ridiculous names.

“Nice to meet you—may I call you Callie?”

“Of course, sir,” I agreed as I shook Preston’s hand.

He gripped it just a little too tightly. Used to demonstrating dominance through greeting rituals. “Call me Preston. We aren’t formal here.”

I kept my snort inside. Not formal, my ass. We were dressed like we were going to a photo shoot, and everyone was standing stiffly in place.

“So, what do you do, Callie?” There was just a touch of patronizing in his tone. I’d heard it often enough and could recognize it easily. “Whit hasn’t told us much about you.”

I stood a little straighter. Time to impress them. “I’m a tax attorney with Anderson, Krys and Chan. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with them—they’re located in Toronto.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I am familiar with the firm. Whit must have told you we’re lawyers as well. We’ve worked with them from time to time.”

I nodded.

“How long have you worked there?”

There was something in his tone. It was polite, but skeptical. Like Cooper had coached me on how to impress his family by throwing names around but I wasn’t actually the person I was claiming to be.

“Since I finished law school.”

“And where did you go to school?”

I took a sip of sparkling water, letting the tension build before I answered. “Oh, I’ve stayed in Toronto my whole life. I graduated from U of T, University of Toronto.”

U of T was the top law school in Canada. It wasn’t Yale or Harvard or Oxford, but I hadn’t had the money or connections to even apply at those places. U of T was still ranked in the top twenty schools globally.

“That’s not a bad school. We have always attended Harvard, but we recognize that’s not the be-all and end-all.”

I kept my expression smoothly polite. Nice way to exclude your nonconformist child.

“Is Cargill still teaching there?”

Again, checking the details to see if I was who I claimed to be. “He retired a couple of years ago, I believe. I’m sure a lot of students were relieved. He was demanding, but if you made it through his class, you knew your stuff.”

His face relaxed. I’d passed that test.

“So, a tax attorney. I don’t think we’ve come across your name in any of our dealings up there.”

“Lorne Peters has dealt with more of our clients based in the US.”

A flash in his eyes. Yeah, he knew Lorne. Lorne was fifty and an avid golfer. Tansy Gordon did most of the work for him, but he was certainly well connected.

“Why did you choose to specialize in that field?”

“It was a challenge.” Yeah, that sounded like I found other parts of the legal world too easy, and I was okay giving that impression to this man. “And as long as there are taxes, I’ll have a job.”

He laughed and I smiled as well, but it wasn’t a joke. Without money or connections, I had to make myself necessary.

“Very admirable. But I mustn’t monopolize you.”

Cooper’s mother took over the conversation, as if this was a practiced routine. “Lovely to meet you, Callie. Such a”—the slightest of pauses before she continued—“pretty name.”

I was not going to volunteer that my flaky mother had called me Calliope because she thought it was such a pretty name.

“How did you meet Whit?”

Still freaked me out to hear anyone call him Whit. I shot a glance at where he was speaking to his sister. So not a Whit. “At a charity event for the children’s hospital in Toronto.”

She nodded. “Are you involved with that charity?”

I shook my head. I was lucky to have been asked to fill up a table. But no need to share that.

“And how long have you two been dating?”

I tilted my head. “We’re just friends.”

Her eyebrows moved slightly upward. Botox? “Oh?”

“We’re both very busy at this point in our careers.”

“Yes, I’m sure your work keeps you occupied. Whit, well…” She shook her head as she looked at her son. “It’s the offseason, so he shouldn’t have anything to do.”

The woman had no idea of what her son’s life was like. I’d picked up enough from our time together to know he kept busy with charity events and sponsorships when he wasn’t working out and training. He wasn’t spending his summer on the couch playing video games and eating chips.

I forced a polite smile. “I’m sure that made it easier to schedule the wedding, but he still spends an incredible amount of time with his training as well as sponsor and charity commitments.”

“Of course.” Her tone was dismissive, and I really needed to control this defensiveness. “You should talk to Pierce. You’d have so much in common.”

I kept my smile, but since Pierce was already giving major Benson vibes, I hoped there wouldn’t be too much in common.

Everyone headed toward the dining room, probably following some signal I’d missed. Cooper kept close to me till we reached the table. There were name cards at each setting, and all the “couples” were split up. I was seated by Pierce for dinner. Lucky me!

Pierce was more polished than Benson, and much cleverer. He managed to disparage his brother oh so politely, and the insults were wrapped in supposed compliments.

I kept a smile on my face and talked as little as possible. My fingernails were digging half-moon shapes into my palms.

Cooper, seated by his father, grew more and more stiff. I’d seen him when fans or critics discussed his hockey team’s loss, and this was different. His knuckles were white on his fork.

I wanted to either slap Preston upside his perfectly groomed head, or give him a Power Point presentation on just how admirable his son was.

“You must be quite the hockey fan.” A voice in my ear brought me back from my violent thoughts.

I wasn’t sure if Pierce was suggesting that I was only willing to slum it with a hockey player because of my supposed passion for the sport, or that a shared love of hockey was the only way to make Cooper’s company palatable. Or both. Probably both. He needed a slapping as well.

I set down my fork, afraid I might use it on his smug face. “Actually, I’m not a fan of any sportsball.”

“Really? I find it hard to picture you and Whit spending time together if you’re not a hockey person.”

I tilted my head. “I have friends who aren’t lawyers, but we manage to enjoy ourselves without talking about law, or tax.” Did this family only discuss business? The number of people who enjoyed discussing legal issues was pretty small. “I like to spend time when I’m not focused on my job.”

I didn’t have many friends who weren’t connected to work. But Darcy counted, and he wasn’t a lawyer, and we didn’t talk about my job. His, yes, because funny things happened. Pretty sure Pierce wouldn’t appreciate stories like that.

“I always thought Whit tended to run on and on about his sport. Which is bad enough. But when he does that modeling, like some sort of life studies class. Don’t you find that a little…vulgar?”

He had no idea the kind of vulgar I’d grown up with. I narrowed my eyes. “The ads are very popular in Toronto. He has a lot of fans.”

Pierce looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “He always wanted attention, and he found a way to get it.”

Someone was jealous.

Pierce watched the groom’s sister flirt with Cooper with that sour look on his face. “I just find it difficult to imagine the two of you together. What do you talk about?”

Cooper went on about clothing more than hockey, in my experience, but I wasn’t going to tell him that since I didn’t plan to announce my very different upbringing. Which left— “We’ve actually spent a lot of time discussing golf. We’ve been playing together.”

Pierce’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love golf. When I can get the time away. Where have you been playing?”

Pierce didn’t react to Briarwood, but he was happy to talk golf. Mostly at me rather than with me, but I was good with that. Conversations would be much the same at the tournament next month. Since I wasn’t an expert in the subject, being able to listen and nod would earn some points, which was the whole reason for me to attend the event.

Fortunately, before Pierce could put me to sleep with a recap of his last round at some golf course in the area that should have impressed me, Preston rose to his feet at the end of the table to do a “welcome to the family” speech to his new son-in-law and family, and a recap of the activities that would follow for the next couple of days. There were some barbs, very cleverly disguised, that hit Cooper, and my hands fisted uselessly in my lap.

Not long after the dinner, Cooper managed to make excuses for us to leave, pleading travel fatigue. I did my best to look tired, and we said our goodbyes and went to get the rental from the valet.

He examined my face. “You survived?”

“Barely. And you?”

He shrugged. The valet stopped the car at the foot of the steps and got out to open my door. I was finally getting used to this.

It was a short trip to the hotel. Cooper pointed out some landmarks, but it was the polite version of him.

He’d said he’d wanted a date for the wedding who wouldn’t expect too much from him. But what he really needed was an ally. He was so tense I wasn’t sure he’d make it through the weekend without something snapping. It would serve his family right if he went off on them, but I was afraid he’d hurt himself instead.

Another valet at the hotel. It was a good thing I didn’t travel by car often or I’d soon be standing around waiting for someone to open the door all the time.

We didn’t speak on the way up in the elevator since we weren’t alone for most of the trip. I had my own room key but let Cooper open the door, flicking on lights as he led the way to the sitting room.

“I didn’t have a say in the seating arrangement, or I would have spared you Pierce.”

He didn’t need to worry about me. Pierce was smug and irritating, but Preston was a greater hazard. “Once I got him onto the topic of golf, things were fine.”

His gaze sharpened. “And before?”

I shrugged. “Benson 2.0, like you said.”

“What did he say? Did he try to put you down?”

“He managed to insult the both of us for spending time together. But he was more focused on your supposed flaws than mine.”

His lips twisted. “Yeah, my family has a master’s in that. I shouldn’t have brought you.”

Was I not holding up my end? Did my upbringing show through? “Why not?”

He frowned down at me. “Because this is shitty, and you don’t deserve it.”

My whole body softened when he said that. Someone caring that I had an unpleasant time didn’t happen often. Especially when he was getting the brunt of it. “You don’t deserve it either. It’s just a few days. I’ll be fine. But…”

He deserved consideration too. Something to offset his family and how they affected him. He’d done enough that I’d be successful at the company tournament in a few weeks. But for this wedding? My credentials as a tax attorney weren’t sufficient. He might not have expressed it, but he needed someone to help him survive his nasty family.

Maybe it was the wine, or the food, which had both been excellent, but I wanted to take away all the poison his family spewed. Maybe it was something else, making me want to protect and comfort him. I wasn’t going to think about that now.

Would this be a massive mistake?

His rigid posture, the bleakness in his eyes, inspired me take a chance. Awkward and clumsy.

“Want to fuck?”