Page 69 of The Naughty or Nice Deal

Let’s just hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself among all these wealthy people.

30

MAEVE

We all take a few cars over and pull up in front of another house that looks just as grand as Ford’s childhood home. It’s a bit more imposing, though, and I’m not sure I like all the design choices—everything feels a little too showy, a little too eager to impress.

When I mention this to Ford, he chuckles. “Mom will love that you think that—be sure to tell her. Just not at the party, or she’ll announce it to the entire family.”

“She really does have some kind of rivalry going on?”

“Mom’s got ongoing feuds with half the town. It keeps her entertained. It’s all lighthearted, though.”

We park and get out, and Ford’s hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me up the front steps and inside with possessive confidence.

There’s a uniformed servant who takes our winter coats to hang in what I assume is a coat closet, and someone else checks our names against a guest list at the door. Servers weave through the rooms with silver trays covered in elegant hors d’oeuvres, and there’s live piano music drifting from somewhere deeper in the house. Wow. This is already the fanciest party I’ve ever attended, and I’ve only gotten my first glimpse.

“Ah, Elaine! Charles!” A woman I don’t recognize with a slight British accent sweeps up to greet Ford’s parents. She and Elaine make a big show of kissing each other on both cheeks and catching up with theatrical enthusiasm.

“Sharon Clairmont,” Ford murmurs in my ear. “Her husband Harry is around here somewhere, probably hiding from all this.”

“Of course darling Geraldine couldn’t make it. She’s so dreadfully busy with that massive deal in Tokyo,” Sharon is saying with affected sympathy.

“How wonderful for her! You must be so proud,” Elaine replies smoothly. “But of course, no matter how busy Ford gets, he always makes time to come home—he has a huge deal in the works right now, but he’s conducting it from here so we can still have proper family time.”

I glance at Ford, who rolls his eyes with practiced resignation. I can see the game of social one-upmanship being played here, and I’m not sure if I want to escape it or if I find it amusing.

“Oh, and who is this lovely creature?” Sharon says after she greets Hayden and Gabriel with familiar warmth. I think it’s sweet that the two men are around enough that everyone knows and associates them with Ford’s family.

Sharon smiles at me expectantly, and I hold out my hand to shake. “I’m Maeve, it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for the invitation.”

“Oh, Maeve! Yes, I remember now—Elaine mentioned you—Liam’s girlfriend, right?”

Before the embarrassment can even begin to set in, Ford’s arm slides around my waist possessively. “Actually, I think some wires got crossed there. Maeve is my fiancée.”

“Oh, silly me! You know how impossible it is to keep track of everyone’s romantic entanglements. Maeve, how wonderful that you could come, and congratulations to you both.”

Sharon takes the correction in stride, and I’m grateful she thinks she simply misunderstood. Hopefully this means there won’t be any awkward questions about my previous relationship with Liam. The last thing I want is to embarrass Ford or his family.

Elaine and Sharon return to their competitive chatting until Charles has to diplomatically pull his wife away before they can start openly feuding about who has the better rose garden, while Ford guides me with Hayden and Gabriel deeper into the party.

“Let’s get some food,” Gabriel suggests.

“Let’s get some alcohol,” Hayden mutters under his breath.

“There are so many people I want you to meet,” Lydia says excitedly, taking my hand. “Come on!”

She tugs me away from the men and into the thick of the party, where she introduces me to what feels like half of Colorado’s social elite. I’m not sure how long it takes—maybe half an hour—but I’m starving by the time I see a server with a tray, so I politely excuse myself to grab some food.

The hors d’oeuvres are incredible, but I find myself mentally taking notes on what could be changed or improved—occupational hazard of loving to cook. I find a quiet corner near the impressively decorated Christmas tree so I can eat without being rude and scan the room to see if I can spot the men again.

“You really do look incredible tonight.”

I look over to see Liam approaching. “Thank you. I’m so glad Ford likes it.”

I expect him to scowl and walk away after that pointed reminder, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves closer. “It’s been good having you around again.”

Liam never could take a hint when we were dating, either. “Well, I’m glad it’s not awkward, then. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable.”