Page 49 of The Write Track
“If he could get away with it, he would try. His father once yelled at him about giving people food poisoning, though.” I mimicked Preston Martin Charles II’s voice to perfection. “‘Projectile vomiting is not posh, no matter what you think.’ He never included sushi at one of his parties again.”
“Ah. For once, a douche canoe father comes in handy,” Nathan drawled.
“Right?” I agreed. “It’s far more likely that we’re looking at teeny tiny sandwiches and side salads. No fries or anything.” I was apologetic even though it wasn’t my fault. “He’ll also try to wedge something in like stuffed mushrooms and pastries as appetizers because he won’t be able to help himself.”
“Will he skimp on the number of sandwiches we can have?”
“No. If you want ten of them, he might give you some side-eye. He would never say anything though.” I thought better of it the moment the words were out of my mouth. “Actually, he might comment on your appetite.”
“Oh, I’m counting on that.” Nathan’s expression turned wolfish. “I can’t wait to tell him what an appetite you stirred up in me.”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t you think he’ll doubt you if you lay it on too thick?”
“Nope. He won’t be able to see past his rage. He doesn’t know me. I guarantee he’s looked up my reputation.”
“And seen that you’re a dog, so he’ll assume you’re going to do the same to me.”
“Um… I’ve never given a ring to anybody else.”
I arched an eyebrow, dubious.
“It’s true. Every dog is eventually leashed. He’s going to be mad that you were the one who leashed me.”
“That is such a weird way to look at things.”
“Am I wrong, though?”
“No.” That was the truth. Nathan seemed to have a firm grasp on exactly how to irritate Preston. He was good at it too. “You’re going to push every button he has, and he won’t be able to see beyond it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going for.”
I grinned. “I’m kind of excited to see you work tonight.”
“Oh, it’s going to be glorious,” he agreed. “Just you wait.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I WAS RIGHT ABOUT DINNER. PRESTONhad seven different types of sandwiches, three different types of pasta salad, and eight different types of warm appetizers. None of it alone was a full meal. All put together, however, it was pretty good.
“Do you like roast beef?” Nathan asked, his knee pressed snuggly against mine as we sat at a picnic table with Brody, Bree, and Hayley.
I nodded. “Why?”
“Just checking.” Nathan shoved a small roast beef sandwich into my mouth.
I took a huge bite out of reflex.
“How do you like my beef?” he demanded in a voice that carried two tables over, to where Preston was seated with a number of women, including Daisy Freeman, who appeared to be a bit twitterpated with my ex.
I methodically chewed and swallowed. “It’s good,” I replied. “I like it better than ham.” The statement was pointed, but he only grinned wider.
“You like the ham too.” He shoved the rest of the roast beef sandwich into his mouth and purposely focused on Preston for the first time since we’d sat down almost thirty minutes before. He’d gone out of his way to talk to everybody but Preston until this point. A shiver went down my spine when I saw the spark of intent in his eyes.
“So, Preston, how did you get involved in book promotions?” he asked, sounding curious rather than diabolical. “That’s pretty niche. Bella said you were a real estate agent. That’s quite the crossover.”
I looked down at my plate, fast, and refused to raise my chin. There was nothing wrong with being a real estate agent, of course. It was a nice, solid profession. Preston preferred calling himself a real estate developer, however. He could never settle for the mundane explanation when there was something bigger to claim.
“I’m a real estate developer,” Preston immediately corrected, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek. I’d seen that coming.
