Sitting down next to Jenna as Ellie rushed off to get us drinks, I tried to look anywhere but at the couple to my right.
“How are you settling in then, Jocelyn?” Adam asked from across the table.
Grateful, I gave him a wide smile. “Good, thanks. And it’s Joss.”
“So you and Ellie are rubbing along well then?”
Something in his voice told me it wasn’t a casual question. He was worried about my roommate. I began to wonder if Ellie’s feelings might be reciprocated. “We’re getting along amazingly. She’s a great person.”
My answer went over well with him. “Good, I’m glad. So Ellie tells me you’re writing a book?”
“Oh my God,” Holly interrupted with her throaty English accent. I hated that her accent was so cool. “Did I tell you, babe, that my friend Cheri got published?”
Braden shook his head, his eyes darting to my face. I glanced away quickly, pretending to be fascinated by Holly’s news of this mysterious Cheri person.
“Cheri is my best friend from home,” Holly explained to the table just as Ellie came back with the drinks. I shimmied over to let her in beside me. “She writes the best books.”
“What are they about?” Ed asked politely. I glanced at Jenna and saw she and Ellie were exchanging ‘a look’. I was getting that Holly was not at all well-liked among the girls.
“Oh they’re just amazing. They’re about this girl from the poorhouse who falls in love with this guy who’s a businessman but still has, like, an old English title… like an earl or something. So romantic. And her writing is just amazing. She’s just amazing.”
Okay. Apparently she was amazing.
“So it’s an historical novel?” Ed asked.
“No.” She shook her head in bemusement.
“Holly,” Braden appeared to be trying not to smile, “There’s no such thing as a poorhouse anymore. Are you sure it’s not an historical?”
“Well, Cheri didn’t say it was.”
“Then I’m sure you’re right,” Adam told her congenially. Ellie’s shoulders shook next to mine at the very well-disguised sarcasm in his reply. I tried to look anywhere but at Braden.
“Jenna, when’s your first dress-fitting again?” Ellie asked, peering around me.
Jenna grinned impishly. “Oh it’s not for ages. I’ve been banned from mum’s house because I keep going into her wardrobe to stare at it.”
“Oh?” I asked, trying to be friendly. “When’s the wedding?”
“Five months,” Ed replied, smiling lovingly at Jenna.
Wow. A guy who wasn’t afraid to show how he really felt. It was disarming and another flash image of my dad smiling at my mom crossed my brain. I took a drink, shoving it back down under all my steel.
Ellie made a little squeeing sound beside me. “You should see Jenna’s dress. We’re getting-”
“Oh, babe,” Holly interrupted again. “Did I tell you about Lisa getting married in October? I told her it was a dreadful time of year to get married but she insisted she wanted an autumn wedding. Have you ever heard anything like it? Anyway, it’s some drafty castle in some place called Oban so we’ll need to arrange accommodation.”
“Barcaldine Castle.” Braden nodded. “It’s a nice wee place.”
“Maybe in the summer, but not in October.”
And that was pretty much how the next hour went. Every time someone mentioned a topic, Holly took control, her loud voice carrying above the noise of the crowded bar. She made it easy to vilify her, and I knew almost immediately why Ellie couldn’t stand her. Holly was loud, obnoxious and completely self-absorbed. Worse, I got the feeling Braden was studying my reaction to her. Why did he care what I thought?
Needing a break from Holly’s voice, a voice I’d thought charming at first and now greatly disliked, I volunteered to get the next round of drinks. I relaxed into the bar, giving the bartender my order, and enjoyed the quiet—the bar was in the back of the building, behind a wall and a corridor, away from Holly’s voice.
But then he had to follow me, didn’t he?
Heat flushed my right side as I felt him press up against me as he leaned into the bar. My nose tingled at the smell of his cologne and those butterflies were back again.
“So… you’re a writer?” Braden looked down at me.
It was the first time he’d asked me anything without sex in his voice. I looked up at him, taken aback by the genuine curiosity in his pale gaze. I smiled a little self-deprecatingly. I wasn’t a writer yet. “Trying to be.”
“What do you write?”
I thought about my mom and drew a deep breath, pushing the thought out. “Fantasy.”
His eyebrows quirked a little as though he hadn’t expected that to be my answer. “Why fantasy?”
The bartender gave me the total for the drinks before I could answer Braden, but Braden handed over money before I could even reach for my purse. “I’ll pay,” I insisted.