Page 3 of Reluctantly Yours

“Mr. Hinkle, it was a beautiful wedding. Amber looked stunning. I’m sure you’re a proud father tonight.” Amber and I went to prep school together, and our mothers are friends. That’s the only reason I was invited to this wedding. That and I’m sure with a million more important things to do, Fred didn’t bother to monitor the guest list.

Fred’s face softens with the mention of his daughter.

“I’m a very proud father.”

A faraway look takes over his face, his smile returns and his eyes go misty. Fred looks like he’s moments away from becoming a blubbering mess. My collar feels tight, suffocating. Maybe this is what I get for trying to talk to a man who just gave away his little girl. Fuck.

For a moment I think he’s going to turn back toward the group he was talking with and leave it at that, but something over my shoulder catches his eye.

“Are you missing your date?”

“What?”

I turn to find Kristy bouncing on her heels to scan over the crowd. Before she spots me, I turn back to Fred.

“No.” I shake my head. “No date.”

The corners of Fred’s lips turn down, the frown lines near his mouth are set deep, indicating his innate preference for displeasure.

I was hoping to take full advantage of his jovial mood, and possibly the fact that like me, Fred’s had a few drinks tonight. My mind is searching for what went wrong. Fred was talking about his daughter, family and love. He was happy. He asked if I had a date, I said no and then he frowned. If there’s one thing I’ve excelled at in business, it’s reading people and being able to appeal to their emotions. While I never like to mix emotions with business, I don’t mind playing on someone else’s to get what I want.

I’m trying to find my angle when a woman approaches Fred from behind. Her manicured nails, which are a good three inches long, scrape along the fabric at the shoulder of his suit jacket before she places her glossy pink lips onto his cheek.

“There you are, baby,” she coos.

Fred lights up at this woman’s affection. Fred and Helen have been divorced for a few years now, but I wasn’t aware that Fred had a new woman in his life. She’s young, closer to my age, at least twenty years younger than Fred. In her high heels, she towers over his hairless head, her long blonde hair straight and shiny, nearly draping over his shoulder. She moves to Fred’s side to reveal a curvy body encased in a dark blue satin gown, her large breasts barely held in by thin spaghetti straps.

“Hi there.” The woman turns her attention on me. “I’m Frankie.”

She smiles and extends a hand out to me.

“Barrett St. Clair.”

I shake her hand, a surprisingly awkward task with her long nails. I turn her hand to examine said nails.

“Those are quite the nails.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment but Frankie takes it as such.

“Oh my God, thank you. They’re part of the nail line I’m launching.” She wiggles her fingers with excitement. I take a step back to avoid an eyebrow gash. “Frankie’s Faux Nails. That’s what we’ve come up with so far, right, baby?”

We both turn toward Fred, while Frankie seems oblivious, I can see that Fred’s eyes are narrowed. And directed at me.

Uh oh. I know what that look is and it’s not ‘hey, man, can I buy you a beer and discuss your takeover of my company?’

It’s territorial. My mind goes back to Fred’s displeasure of me not having a date. Now having met Frankie, I can see why Fred would want to keep her away from any age appropriate, successful, single men. That being me.

While I have no interest in Frankie, Fred doesn’t know that.

“That’s wonderful. I bet my girlfriend would love them.” The words tumble out before I can fully realize the consequences of what I’m about to say.

“Girlfriend?” Fred asks, surprised. “You said you didn’t have a date.”

“She’s out of town. Visiting her family,” I lie.

Fred’s frown lines smooth as his mouth ticks up a quarter of an inch.

“So, there is a heart beneath that tuxedo jacket.”