The Favor

Junior’s mouth twitched. “I’m her only nephew.”

“It still counts.”

I didn’t fail to notice the way Heather frowned at Junior when he referred to himself as my nephew. She often made a point of stating that we weren’t truly related.

She looked at Dane and seemed about to say more, but he turned to Simon, effectively dismissing her. I had to bite back a grin. She’d soon realize that Dane wasn’t the easy mark she’d thought he’d be. My boss was used to having women throw themselves at him—he knew how to handle it.

Conversation picked up, and it honestly lightened my heart to see him and Simon get along so well. Wyatt, Simon, and Melinda quizzed Dane under the guise of polite conversation. They asked about o-Verve, his academic background, and where he lived. He expertly dodged some questions but answered others.

I could see they were surprised to hear that he didn’t reside in a swanky apartment like many unmarried businessmen his age. Hell, I’d been equally surprised when I first learned he owned a huge house and a large plot of land. My foster parents exchanged a look, both no doubt assuming he’d bought such a home because he had plans to marry and have children. Not exactly, but I wouldn’t disabuse them of that theory.

“You’re leaving for another business trip tomorrow, right?” Simon asked me.

I nodded. “Yup.”

Dane gently fisted the top of my ponytail. “You all packed?”

“Yes, all done. You?”

“Mostly,” he replied, lowering his hand and letting my hair slide out of his fist.

Ashley sipped her drink. “Where are you both going?”

“Las Vegas,” I told her, smiling when Junior ran around my legs chasing Ranger.

“Vegas, huh?” Her eyes twinkling, Melinda looked from me to Dane. “How long has this trip been in the works?”

Whoa, did she think it was actually a secret elopement rather than a business trip? If so, she was half-right. I pursed my lips. “About six months.”

She gave a slow nod. “Ah. Well, try to have some fun while you’re there. Don’t be all work, work, work. And bring me back a magnet.”

“Will do.” She was just as bad as me for collecting them. The breeze fluttered over my arms and ruffled my bangs, and I almost shivered.

Dane settled my bangs back into place and asked, “You hungry?”

“Famished,” I said.

“Good, because the hot dogs are ready,” declared Tucker.

People pretty much descended on the grill before then crossing to the table where the condiments lay.

When I finally bit into the soft bun, tasting the hot dog, onions, and ketchup I’d tucked inside it, I groaned. Heaven.

Dane’s mouth hitched up. “Good?”

I gestured at his own hot dog. “Find out for yourself.”

He took a bite and nodded. “Yeah, it is.” He thumbed a drop of ketchup away from the corner of my mouth. “Having fun?”

Heather let out a little squeal as Ed Sheeran’s The Shape of You began to play. “God, I love this song.” And so she started to dance. And I mean dance. She put her whole body into it.

She also watched Dane pretty much the entire time.

The only reason I didn’t ream her up first one side and then the other was that he wasn’t paying her a blind bit of attention. As such, all she was doing was embarrassing herself. I saw no need to put a stop to that.

While we ate, Wyatt decided to tell some of my embarrassing childhood tales—all were light and funny, and none hinted at the fact that my life in this house hadn’t always gone swimmingly well. That was good. Because Dane was too sharp not to pick up on any such hints.

My dad chipped in, the traitor, and relayed a few tales of his own about me. No matter how much humor twinkled in Dane’s eyes, he never once chuckled. It was almost as though laughter simply wasn’t in him, which was far too sad.

Needing to pee, I tugged on his sleeve and leaned into him. “I’m just nipping to the bathroom.”

He let his arm slip away from my back. “All right. Want me to get you another beer?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” I looked at my father. “Perhaps you could stop with the cringe-worthy stories now.”

“I could,” said Simon, smiling.

I just sighed and headed into the house. When I exited the bathroom after doing my business, Ashley was waiting for me.

She glanced around to make sure we were alone. “I’ve decided that Hanna could be right about Dane being a psychopath.”

I rolled my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Just hear me out. I’ve been watching him work this crowd and wow he’s good. He just slotted in there like a space was already made for him. Psychopaths are good at that. Blending, I mean. They’re social chameleons.”

I rubbed at my forehead. “Uh-huh.”

“He’s got this knack for making people talk about themselves—it’s impressive. And, my God, the charm. It’s not a salesman-type charm. He’s not talking non-stop, he’s listening. He focuses so intensely on whoever’s talking to him. Makes them feel so interesting.”