Page 113 of Spurred On

And she meant it. She wouldn’t.

Not unless he broke hers first.

***

Once the party prep got underway, there was no time for Cody and Sidney to be together, which was annoying, because he’d wanted a chance to follow up on this new phase of their relationship. But between Lisa and Claire, they kept her busy and, try as he might, he couldn’t track her down.

It wasn’t until the traditional welcome reception that he even got a glimpse of her. She stood by the bar, looking adorable in the server’s uniform, with black slacks and a white blouse with a jaunty bow tie. But every time he started over to talk to her, he got waylaid.

Of all the parties he’d ever thrown, this one was the most challenging, probably because of the caliber of the guests.

Or, perhaps, because he’d never been torn between his duty and his desire before.

This birthday party was for Logan’s mother—which wasn’t awkward at all, hiring strippers to grind on his best friend’s middle-aged mom. Fortunately, Diane had a great sense of humor about it. She’d invited a bunch of her high society friends from Dallas, which was thoughtful of her, because it could bring in lots of new business. And judging from the behavior of these fillies at the welcome reception, they would probably be back soon.

Cody tried to hide his grimace. He was all about finding new customers, but some of these women were a little too predatory. He didn’t mind if they flirted with his dancers—that was what they were here for—but, as usual, he’d made it clear he was not on the menu.

Sadly, some of these women hadn’t taken the hint. There were a couple of blondes, with big hair and bigger boobs, who’d been following him around the room as he welcomed all the guests. A couple of times they’d flanked him and grabbed various body parts.

Usually he had no trouble fending off inappropriate overtures, but with them attacking both sides of him at the same time, it became a tussle. He lifted a brow at a couple of his dancers, urging them over. They knew the score and swept in like the freaking cavalry.

His friend Brandon, who was dressed as an old-time cowboy—in a duster jacket, leather pants, and suspenders—sidled up to one of them and engaged her in a flirty conversation, while Andy took the other. While the women were distracted, Cody made his escape, heading over to check in with Hanna and Diane.

Diane, the guest of honor, was effusive in her praise, and he enjoyed talking to her. Probably because she kept her hands to herself.

The next time he scanned the room—surely not to see where Sidney was—he spotted her with Brandon by the bar. The little hairs on his neck rose as Brandon set his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Now, Brandon was an amazing guy, a veteran and longtime buddy of Cade’s, so it was a challenge not to march over there and rip his hand from Sidney’s shoulder.

He knew he was being unreasonable, because the second Brandon had set eyes on Porsche McCoy, all other women had ceased to exist for him. In fact, Cody was pretty sure something hot and heavy was going on between the two of them, which made him happy, because Porsche deserved a guy who was head over heels in love with her. And it seemed that Brandon was.

And, indeed, when he shot a glance at Porsche, it was to find her glowering at Sidney.

He bit back a grin and shook his head, starting in Sidney’s direction, but again, he was headed off at the pass by another guest.

And yeah, it was annoying being a host sometimes.

He finally had a minute to speak with Sidney once the guests had been herded into the dining room and were enjoying their dinner.

“How’s it going?” he asked as he joined her at the buffet table.

“Good.” She waggled the tongs. “We’re running low on salad.”

He huffed a laugh. “I mean the party in general.”

She shrugged. “Great.”

He eyed her. “That wasn’t a very convincing great.”

“Some of those women are . . .” She wrinkled her nose and made a face.

“I did warn you,” he chuckled.

“You most certainly did.”

“The superrich ones are the worst. They think they own you.”

“Tell me about it,” she snorted. “Did you know one of them commanded me to drive to Dallas and pick up her sunglasses for her? She’d left them at home. Egads. What a tragedy. Some brand I cannot even pronounce.”