Page 24

24

SAWYER

T he Chanel dress is a little tight across my chest, but it still looks divine. It’s exactly the confidence booster I want for a night like tonight.

Exiting the elevator, I spot Jamie. Handsome as a Bond actor, he stands near a tall window, needing to be photographed. I snap his pic as I walk over.

“Here,” he says, taking my phone. He raises it and gets a selfie of us together. Passing the phone back, he smiles. “Text that to me as well.”

The request spreads warmth through me. I like being with him and enjoy it even more when he lets slip that he likes it, too.

“You’re gorgeous tonight,” he says with a wink. “If you’re after blending in so the other girls don’t get jealous, lost fucking cause, Sauce.”

My smile widens until I’m beaming. He’s the ultimate charmer. Always sounds sincere. Is never sappy. Perfect, really.

“The others will be dressed up, too, so that won’t be a problem. But thank you. And thank you for the dress. I love it so much.” I rise onto my toes and pull him down by the neck to give him a lingering kiss. I catch the faint scent of his cologne. It’s earthy and masculine, with a faint hint of spice. I wish we were going to his place, rather than out.

Once he helps me into my coat, we leave the dorm and walk along a path toward the parking lot. My breath emerges as fog as we pass in and out of the light from the lamp posts. The freezing temperature doesn’t bother me. I’m too amped up to feel it.

“Care to drive, Cranberry Sauce?”

“Your new car?”

“Why not?”

That returns the smile to my face, and I nod.

He unlocks the Porsche, opens the driver’s door and hands me the keys after I’m inside. As soon as I start the car, heat blasts. I pretend that’s what causes the rush of pleasure.

Even over a short distance, the car is fun to drive. It’s dark out, so despite clear roads, I don’t push past the speed limit. I’d love to drive his car on a clear day.

After we reach the Briar Club house, I offer him back his keys.

Jamie shakes his head. “Hold onto them. I may have a nip of whiskey.”

This is feeling more and more like a date, which makes me buoyantly happy. I tuck the keys into my clutch before exiting the car.

The Briar Club house is unabashedly peach-colored and frilly. It’s a Queen Anne with turrets and delicate, ornate ivory trim adorning every edge and corner, like pastry frosting.

Even the steeply pitched black roof can’t overcome its confectionary appearance. Obviously, like the club, the house is a piece of turn-of-the-century history, but for me, it’s too over the top.

“Jesus, the Victorians really should’ve stopped at corsets. Their shite designs are enough to give me cavities.”

Chuckling, I nod. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Once inside the Briar house, I notice an immediate shift in Jamie. It’s like he’s flipped a switch, turning on a light that radiates from inside him, drawing the whole club’s attention.

As he works the room, he tells fishing and boating stories, zeroing in on the Briar Club president who’s obsessed with sailing. After she’s promised to come to the rowing team’s regattas in spring and invites us for a sail once weather permits, Jamie seems satisfied.

Leaning close to me, he whispers, “Where’s the VP? She’s the one who takes cycling tours, right?”

“I’m not sure, but she’s at the buffet.”

I have no idea where Jamie got his advance knowledge of the club’s most powerful players, but it’s clearly a pro move. His promise to help me secure my acceptance obviously wasn’t idle bullshit to get me into bed.

Jamie catches my hand and holds it as he migrates over to the food. He’s so gorgeous people naturally turn toward him and include him in conversation. Within five minutes, he, the VP, and her date are discussing cross-country trips. Two years ago, Jamie drove his motorcycle halfway across the US, so the three of them exchange trip notes and recommendations.

Within two hours, he’s worked his way up and down the club’s leadership and senior roster. With one exception . Clare Duffy doesn’t approach us when we’re together. Instead, she finds me alone in the library while I’m searching for the club’s scrapbook collection.

Clare’s black dress has sharp angles and a wide black belt. It looks more like something a stylish lawyer would wear to court than what a coed should wear to a party.

She gestures around the library using her right hand where she’s holding a tumbler of amber liquid. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone is hard, but I try not to let it rattle me.

Keeping my voice light and friendly, I say, “Looking for scrapbooks from the years my mom was at GU. I wanted to see what pictures there were of her.”

“The library is off limits for nonmembers. If you want access, you’d better go out and help O’Rourke work the room. His charm alone won’t get you in, you know. You’re the one who needs to make the grade, not him.”

Forcing myself to smile the way I do at my fake Allendale grandparents, I incline my head. “I know, but his charm doesn’t hurt. It got the president interested enough to read my essay while we were chatting in the parlor, and she said she was impressed. So, hopefully everything’s on track.” Infusing my voice with warmth, I say, “Thanks again for your mentorship.”

One of her artificial-looking dark brown brows arches. “Get your lips off my ass, Allendale.”

That ignites the kind of fury I have trouble controlling. “Just trying to be nice.” My feigned friendliness is quickly draining away.

“You’re right that my influence could’ve made you. It can also break you.”

My eyes narrow. “Is that really who you want to become, Clare?”

She finishes her drink. “Don’t flatter yourself. Nothing about you is worth a transformation of any kind. I am who I am.”

“Someone who’s spiteful for no good reason?”

“Fuck off.” She stalks over to the door and holds it open. “Get out of the club library.”

Despite becoming angrier by the second, I talk myself out of doing anything that could escalate things. Raised voices might draw a crowd, and an argument with a senior member would hurt my chances.

As I exit, I’m expecting her to follow me out. Instead, she closes the door, which immediately raises my suspicions. Would she hide or destroy the club’s books with photographs of my adoptive mom? The thought causes my blood to run cold. Celine loved the club so much. I don’t want her erased from its history.

No. Stop being paranoid , I tell myself. As a devoted member, Clare Duffy wouldn’t destroy Briar Club property.

But after a few moments in the hall, I open the door slowly and peer in. Clare stands in front of the local history shelf where I’d just been, and she’s pulling items that definitely look like bound keepsakes from the shelf.

For fuck’s sake. What is wrong with this woman?

Confronting her isn’t the right strategy. When challenged, Clare Duffy digs in her heels. What I need is a distraction, something to draw her away and hopefully make her forget about the scrapbooks.

I stalk down the hall, determined to make the most of Jamie’s help, though not exactly sure what I’ll propose.

As I approach the group he’s a part of, someone says, “With that underbite, Rawls looks like the rat he is.”

“He does, yeah.” Jamie’s lovely accent seems just as irresistible to them as it is for me. “He’s the kind of guy you want to punch in the jaw, but first you’d have to find it.”

Laughter erupts, and Jamie takes a swig of whiskey.

When he spots me, however, his smile fades. He must sense something’s wrong because he sets his glass on a tray and strolls over.

“Everything all right, Cranberry Sauce?”

I purse my lips as I shake my head. “Clare Duffy.”

“Still?” He cocks his head, then shakes it. “Going down fighting, is she? That’s the Irish.”

“I tried being nice. Which landed poorly.”

He glances over my shoulder. “Where is she?”

“In the library. Could you talk to her?”

“I will, yeah.” He follows me down the hall. “Do me a favor, Sauce. Stand outside the door and keep watch. If someone comes over to you, knock once. If someone’s coming in the room, knock twice.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. “What are you intending to do? I don’t want you to be too nice.”

That causes a slight smile to appear. “Jealous?”

“Damn right. She’s a bitch. I’m not sharing my boy toy with her.”

His laughter makes me smile. “Boy toy, is it? As though I’d go along with that.” Catching my arms in his hands, he pulls me to him. “There’s no need to worry, Cranberry Sauce. There’s only one girl in this house I’m gonna fuck tonight. And that’s the one I own .” He kisses me and then slowly wipes my lipstick off his lower lip. “Keep watch.”