Now that he’d said his name, I knew who he was. He wasn’t an overly well-known actor, but I’d heard Lachlan speak of him. “Grayson Evans?”
“That’s me.” He grinned as he pulled me onto the dance floor, taking my hand in his and placing his other on my waist. “And you’re Arrochar. It’s weird I’ve known Lachlan this long, but never met you.”
“I’m not in the film industry.” Nor would I ever want to be.
“You should be. You have the looks for it.”
My answer was a tight smile, my gaze moving over his shoulder.
“Not that … I mean, obviously you could bring more to acting than that.”
I snorted as he realized his error. “I highly doubt it. I’m more suited to forest engineering than acting.”
“You’re a forest engineer?” He gaped, shocked.
His surprise, unfortunately, was something I’d had to deal with my entire career. I worked in a male-dominated industry as the one in charge on-site, the one responsible for drawing up the maps of topographical features of a timber-harvesting area and planning and directing construction of roads and rail networks needed to transport the logs from the harvest area to a safe storage and loading area. I was the one who ensured the safe and efficient removal of the logs by planning and overseeing the construction of campsites, loading docks, bridges, equipment shelters, and water systems. The one who selected the methods and equipment we’d use for handling the logs, and the one who ordered around a bunch of guys to do it. Let’s just say I’d faced my share of battles with misogyny.
“Yes,” I answered shortly.
“Sorry.” He winced. “I’m not coming across right. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just never met a forest engineer before. I don’t even know what it is, really.”
I softened, a little guilty for being snippy about it, which wasn’t like me at all, and explained my job to him.
“Wow. You have an actual job.”
I laughed softly. “Don’t you?”
“Other people don’t think it’s an actual job.”
“It’s an actual job,” I assured him. “I know from Lachlan how hard you all work.”
Gray grinned. “Thanks for saying so.”
“I can’t believe Galbraith is Robyn’s father,” a woman said beside me, drawing my focus from my dance partner.
I saw it was the English actor, Angeline Potter. I didn’t recognize the man she was with, but they both stared at Mac where he danced with Jasmine. He hadn’t been short of partners all night, but at least I knew Jaz was off-limits. The rest had sparked an indignant flare of jealousy I couldn’t believe I could still feel.
“I know. No wonder people always tell them he doesn’t look old enough,” her American partner observed.
“I wonder how old he was when they had her. Thirteen? He can’t be much older than forty, right?”
“That would make Robyn only twenty-something, and I’m sure she’s thirty.”
Twenty-nine, actually, I thought. Thirteen, indeed!
“You’re looking at him like you want to fuck him.”
“Hush.” Angeline smacked his chest. “There are children at this wedding. And yes, believe me, darling, every unattached person at this club so inclined toward the male gender has wanted to climb Galbraith like a monkey since this place opened. I swear Lachlan only hired him because he looks the part. Ever the showman, our Lachlan. I mean, it took Robyn’s arrival to figure out it was Lucy Wainwright causing hell here. Doesn’t say much for Mac’s intelligence that he needed his daughter to uncover the truth.”
I danced Gray closer to the actor. “Angeline.”
She looked at me, her tight smile widening ever so slightly. “Arrochar, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” I glared at her. “While you’re a guest at my brother’s wedding, I’ll ask you to refrain from insulting members of our family where anyone might hear. It’s just good manners, you know.”
Angeline blanched. “I apologize. I didn’t realize—”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I danced Gray in the opposite direction, cutting her off.