Page 39 of Pugs & Kisses
B ryson had attended his share of ritzy gatherings over the years.
One of his colleagues on the team at Tuskegee was renowned for his elaborate dinner parties and department soirees.
But as he stood next to a wall of cascading ruby-red roses that flowed into a swimming pool strewn with the same roses, along with heart-shaped floating candles, he felt safe in saying that this was, by far, the ritziest shindig he’d ever attended.
A mix of round tables with chairs draped with elegant sashes, red velvet couches, and gold velvet settees occupied the space around the pool and throughout the Williams’s backyard.
He’d eaten way more shrimp cocktail and what the server had called lamb chop popsicles than he cared to admit, and he still wasn’t done. There was an entire table with various kinds of caviar, freshly shucked oysters, and lobster tail he had yet to visit.
It was obvious the Williamses had spared no expense.
Drinks were flowing faster than Niagara Falls from the open bar, and Bryson was certain he’d seen the live band that was performing tonight on one of the nationally syndicated late-night talk shows.
The party was a who’s who of New Orleans’s most notable residents, including several city council members, prominent business leaders, and a local attorney whose face was plastered on billboards all over the city.
He had never felt more out of place.
None of the guests had done anything in particular to make him feel unwelcome, but he’d come to accept that he would never feel comfortable amongst this set.
His tailored tuxedo, the spit-shined shoes, and the expensive cologne he wore were nothing more than a costume.
If not for his wanting to be here for Evie, he would be at home with Bella.
His meal wouldn’t be as fancy, but he would be a helluva lot more relaxed.
Bryson slipped his hand into his pocket and took a sip of the too-sweet cocktail he’d gotten from the bar. As he observed the crowd, he caught sight of Evie weaving her way through the throng, and every drop of discomfort he’d felt dissipated. She had that effect on him.
She was, in a word, stunning.
She’d literally taken his breath away when he’d arrived at her house to pick her up for the party.
Her shimmering red gown hugged her subtle curves, leaving just enough to the imagination.
Except he didn’t have to imagine what was underneath that dress.
He’d spent hours upon hours over the past two weeks exploring every inch of her.
As exquisite as she looked in that gown, he couldn’t wait to peel it off her.
She moved toward him, the gemstones at her neck catching the light of the hundreds of candles that lit up the backyard.
Ruby red was the theme of the night. As he’d learned upon arriving, it was the traditional color to celebrate a couple’s fortieth wedding anniversary.
His parents had celebrated fifty-four years of marriage late last year, but the most they ever did for their anniversary was a nice dinner at the fanciest steak house in Houma, which was to say, not much.
“Sorry that took so long,” Evie said as she approached him. “I promise that is the last time I leave you.”
“You don’t have to babysit me, Ev. It hasn’t been that bad. The most anyone has done is ask if I liked the signature cocktail.” He peered at the drink in his hand. “I’m still undecided. What’s in this again?”
She hunched her shoulders. “Pomegranate, grapefruit, and rum, I think. The taste doesn’t matter. As long as it fits the theme, Constance is happy.”
Bryson had been taken aback when she’d referred to her mother by her first name when she’d made introductions earlier this evening.
It had to be a rich kid thing. Even the thought of calling his mother Stella made Bryson want to duck for cover.
And to say it to her face? He cherished waking up in the morning too much to ever make that mistake.
“Are we supposed to mingle?” Bryson asked Evie.
Her lips scrunched up in a frown. “Do you want to?”
“No,” he said quickly. “But I know it’s what’s done at these types of parties.”
“I hate these types of parties,” Evie said, looking out at the crowd.
“And I hate mingling even more. But this place is crawling with people with deep pockets, and I’ll bet half of them have properties around this city that we can potentially use.
The ones I’ve looked into still leave too much to be desired in my opinion.
” She grabbed his glass, took a sip of his drink, and handed it back to him.
“Time to do a little reconnaissance and sweet-talking.”
She took him by the hand and together they began making the rounds. Evie introduced him so many times as World-Renowned Veterinary Surgeon Dr. Bryson Mitchell he was certain if he took out his driver’s license, he would see the title printed on it.
He understood why she did it—the expressions on people’s faces changed the moment they heard the title—but it rubbed him the wrong way that she felt she had to lead with that in order to earn their respect.
He didn’t give a fuck about earning the respect of anyone at this party.
Well, outside of Evie’s family. Then again, he didn’t care whether they respected him either, so long as they didn’t mess up his chances with Evie.
But then something happened that Bryson would have never expected in a million years.
There were people in this crowd who actually knew he existed. In fact, several of the people Evie introduced him to had already heard of him. One had even been able to recite some of the findings from the work he did at Tuskegee.
“Told you that you were famous,” Evie said with a smirk once the man walked away.
Bryson rolled his eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
Her smirk deepened. “I think you like that about me.”
He fucking loved that about her. The more exasperating, the deeper he fell. It was bizarre and maddening and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bryson leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Except for your dislike of the local cuisine.”
“I like the food here!” she laughed.
“Whatever,” he said.
“Evie! Evie, is that you?”
They both turned at the sound of her name being called.
“Bianca!” Evie waved. She whispered to Bryson through her smile, “Bianca Taylor. She owns several boutiques on Magazine Street. She also married a man who is the same age as her son, which caused all sorts of drama.”
“Love is love. It knows no age,” Bryson said.
“But it does know a hefty bank balance.”
“Evie, it’s so great to see you,” Bianca greeted.
The tall, slim redhead, who was dressed in an elaborate gown that seemed more suited for those couture runway shows than for this party, gave Evie air kisses on both cheeks, before holding out a hand to Bryson.
“Bianca Taylor. Pleasure to meet you. That tux is fabulous,” she said. “Marks & Spencer, right?”
He hadn’t the faintest idea. His sister-in-law had picked it out a few years ago and he’d been rocking it ever since.
“Of course it’s Marks & Spencer.” She turned to Evie.
“I was just talking to your mother about you the other day. You’re friends with the owner of that doggy daycare that’s been all over the news, aren’t you?
There was a grand opening for their new place in the Lower Garden District yesterday.
My dog has been on the waitlist for months. ”
“Actually, the official grand opening hasn’t happened yet. You’re thinking about the canine carnival that was held there. It was a fundraiser for a local animal rescue that I would love to tell you more about.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t need to hear about it,” she said. “But I do need Misty in that daycare. If you can put in a good word for me, I would appreciate it so much.”
“I’ll… uh… see what I can do,” Evie said.
“You’re a doll. Amanda!” Bianca shouted past Evie. “Amanda Chapelle is that you?”
And just as quickly as Bianca Taylor had arrived, she was gone.
“I wonder how much she would be willing to pay to get Misty at Barkingham Palace,” Bryson said. “You think Ashanti would mind if we sold access?”
“She would probably be upset that she didn’t come up with the idea first,” Evie said. “I should call…”
Her words trailed off and a look of pure disdain fell over her face.
“What the fuck,” Evie all but growled.
Bryson turned and, for the first time in eight years, laid eyes on his old lab partner.
Cameron Broussard stood just to the right of the five-foot-tall spiraling champagne tower, dressed in a tuxedo that didn’t fit him nearly as well as Bryson’s fitted him. His sister-in-law would get an extra hug the next time he saw her.
“I cannot believe this,” Evie said. “No, actually, I can. I can totally believe she would pull this bullshit.”
“Ev, it’s not a big deal,” Bryson said.
“The hell it isn’t,” she said. “She knows Cameron and I are no longer together.”
“But is it worth making a scene over?” he asked. “Especially if you want to get money for The Sanctuary out of these people?”
Evie blew out a breath. “Fine, Mr. Voice of Reason.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and turned to him. “Do you want to know what Ashanti and Ridley told me? They both said they were hoping I would end up with you instead of Cameron back when we were in school.”
“Really?” Bryson’s brows arched. He was surprised by the intensity of the gratitude that came over him. “I’m… flattered.”
Even her friends had had better sense than he’d shown. He would never forgive his own stupidity. His gullibility.
He’d talked himself out of a life with Evie. He’d allowed Cameron to talk him out of a life with her, believed that asshole when he told him that Evie would never be with someone like him.
“I wish I had known I was a choice for you back then, Ev.”
“I wish you had asked instead of making the decision on your own, without bothering to consult me,” she said. She hooked her thumb toward her ex. “Look where it got me. He is such a petty bastard for showing up here.”
“Cameron’s a petty bastard for so many other reasons,” Bryson said. He took her hands in his. “Don’t let him ruin tonight for you. He’s not worth it.”
She lifted her face up to his and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips. “No, he isn’t.”
Bryson was just about to deepen the kiss when a cool, composed voice killed the mood quicker than a bullet to the heart.
“Evelina, look who’s joined us.”