Love the One You Hate

I hold out my arm for her to take. It’s the polite thing to do. We’re both going down to dinner, and if she were anyone else, I’d offer the same gesture.

She reluctantly accepts.

“About this afternoon—” I begin to say as we start to walk, but she cuts me off.

“I hope you’re not about to apologize, because I have no intention of accepting a peace offering from you.”

“I wasn’t going to offer peace,” I say, dropping my hand over hers on my arm to keep her in place beside me as we turn toward the stairs. Her hip brushes against me and I’m aware of it on a molecular level. Her scent is so strong. I think it’s her shampoo and I’d like to find out, to inhale a deep breath and get a chest full of it.

“Good, so we’re on the same page? It’s war from here on out?” she asks, and it almost feels like a game. “I’d like to know so I can stay armed.”

I stifle the urge to laugh for fear that she’ll move away from me. Her hand on my arm is barely there as it is, and I’m worried she’ll withdraw it if I say the wrong thing.

“Are you two coming down any time soon or do I have to stand here forever?” Rhett asks, drawing my attention to where he stands in the foyer.

Crap. I forgot I invited him to dinner tonight. Rhett’s my closest friend, but I can’t say I’m glad to see him, especially when his gaze shifts to Maren and his eyes widen with intrigue.

I can’t even begin to unravel my reaction to him. I tug Maren an inch closer. I don’t even smile when he looks my way again. I even consider, for one second, marching right to the front door, throwing it open, and telling my oldest friend to get lost. It’s absurd.

“And who might this delicate flower be?” Rhett teases, beaming up at Maren as we descend the final few stairs together.

“His name is Nicholas,” Maren quips, stepping away from me. I have no choice but to let go of her hand. “Be careful though—he’s not a delicate flower. More like a Venus flytrap if you ask me.”

Rhett barks out a laugh. “I like you. You’re Maren, aren’t you? You have to be.”

“Yes. And you are…?”

“Rhett,” I answer for him. “My oldest friend, who surely won’t forget where his loyalties lie.”

Rhett extends his elbow to Maren so he can pick up where I left off. “Do you hear something, Maren? An annoying gnat?”

“Nothing at all.”

Rhett throws me a grin over his shoulder, and I do him one better by flipping him off.

My grandmother sees and tells me to mind my manners. Then she turns up her charm to greet our guest.

“I’m so happy you could join us for dinner, Rhett. I’ve been anxious for you to meet our dear Maren.”

“I’ve heard so much about her,” he admits, escorting her to the seat to the left of my grandmother. Before he can pull out the chair beside her, I yank it out myself—a tad too hard. Three pairs of eyes fall on me as I sit down and scoot my chair forward with an audible screech.

“You needn’t be such a brute about it, Nicky,” my grandmother says. “I was going to ask Rhett to sit on my right. Your seat beside Maren was never in contest.”

I feel the closest thing to a blush I’ve felt in twenty years.

“If Nicholas is anxious to sit by me, it’s only so he can keep a close eye on me during dinner,” Maren assures Rhett. “To make sure I don’t steal any of the salad forks.”

He laughs and turns to me.

“So she knows you’re suspicious of her?” he asks, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. He looks absolutely delighted by tonight’s turn of events.

I groan. “If I am suspicious…or was suspicious,” I say, correcting myself because I’m not certain which one is more accurate at this point. “It was for good reason.”

“Oh heavens, I need a glass of wine,” my grandmother says, looking back at Bruce, who hurries to fulfill her wish.

“Nicholas thinks I’m a con artist,” Maren says, turning to me with a thoughtful brow. “Is that what you called me this afternoon? I can’t remember. I try so hard to forget every word as soon as you say it.”

“Maren,” my grandmother chides, but there’s no need. I don’t need her help fighting my own battles.

I lean in close to Maren, to be sure she’s listening. “That’s not what was said and you know it.”

She shrugs and turns away to accept the glass of wine Bruce just finished pouring for her. “Close enough. You insinuated it was a possibility.”

“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Rhett asks. “Maren, do you have a boyfriend?”