I leaned my head over. "I didn't realize they'd have someone checking for invitations. Maybe we can climb a fence," I said with a laugh. "Or maybe I can bullshit the guy. He looks sort of stupid."
"Good evening." I placed my hand behind as if leading Shay along up the steps, but I kept my palm an inch away.
The invite checker's eyes went straight to Shay. It took some effort for him to refocus on his task. He glanced at the clipboard. "Name?"
"David Nash Archer," I said confidently. As he perused the list, I tried to come up with an excuse about why he couldn't find it. He placed his finger along the edge of the clipboard and dragged it down. "The list is alphabetical, and I don't see it at the top."
"Maybe it's under Nash. That's what most of the people around here call me." I snuck a shoulder shrug at Shay, letting her know I was out of ideas.
Shay placed her hand over her mouth to suppress a fake giggle. "This is so embarrassing," she said sweetly. Invite man watched with undivided interest as Shay gracefully and quickly climbed the three steps to where he was standing. She braced her hand on his big shoulder, hopped up to reach his ear and leaned in to whisper something. His face showed that it was the best fucking thing to happen to him all night. A smile broke through his stony expression.
"Of course, go right ahead."
Shay glanced back and motioned for me to follow her up the steps.
He hardly gave me a second glance as I walked past. But he took the time to watch Shay climb the rest of the steps. I reached her side. "What did you say to him? Or do I want to know?"
"I just told him I drank three glasses of wine on the way over, and I badly needed a trip to the little girl's room."
I stared at the side of her face as we walked through the massive entry to the mansion. "Kiddo, if you could bottle whatever it is that makes you you, then you'd be a fucking billionaire."
* * *
THE PEYTONS WERE the type of people Dad liked to refer to as show-off rich. Every corner of the city-sized family compound was filled with furniture and art that was worth more than the average family made in a year. Whenever I was in a place like the Peyton mansion, I had to concur with my dad that for the most part too many possessions just made you stupid and shallow. Of course, I wasn't sure what that said for people like my dad who had money in the bank collecting interest and dust and doing nothing to move along the economy.
18
Shay had been nervous on the drive over, convinced she wouldn't be able to fit in with a bunch of rich snobs. But I was the person having a hard time trying to mingle. My date, on the other hand, seemed to have yet again caught the undivided attention of a group of strangers. And other than making a few contacts and letting the word out that I was starting up my own business, I found myself spending an insane amount of time watching my pretend girlfriend. Twice, I'd had to take some deep breaths and grind my teeth together to keep from marching over and stopping a handsy jerk from touching her. And after each incident, I asked myself how the hell I came to be so fucking jealous of anyone who came within inches of Shay.
My greatest accomplishment of the night, other than not getting drunk, was avoiding direct eye contact with my ex-boss, Morris Grant. As badly as I wanted to approach him and find out just what the hell he was up to, I decided to save it for another time. I was, after all, an illegal guest at the party.
A hand landed hard on my shoulder. "You came." Rob Nixon circled around and shot back a glass of bourbon before continuing his greeting. "I knew Peyton would send you an invite."
"Yep, guess Grant doesn't have as much power as he thinks." Shay joined us.
"Rob, this is my girlfriend, Shay." Rob's eyes opened wide as if he'd stuck his finger in a live socket.
"Girlfriend? No kidding. Nash Archer with a girlfriend. No one told me hell froze over." He wiped off his hand on his coat and stuck it out. She wrapped her long fingers around his hand. I stared at the shake, thinking how badly I wanted those fingers wrapped around my hand.
Shay smiled. "Someone had to rein the man in. I decided I was the woman for the job." She winked at me and scooted closer without making contact.
"Hey, have you talked to the Harvard women, the ones with that lightweight, indestructible metal alloy?" Rob asked. "Grant circled them earlier and made a landing just like a bird of prey. He was talking to them for at least an hour. You need to get in there, Archer." Rob pushed his black rimmed glasses higher on his nose and searched the giant room. "There they are talking to those hacks from Tri-media Investments. They're the women who are dressed to show everyone that they despise upper crust snobbery."