Love Me Crazy Page 6

  Ellie’s lips pull down in the corners.

  “It’s great,” I try to add my two cents. “It would photograph fine, if that’s your concern.”

  “You photograph scenery,” Mom blurts.

  “I still use a camera.”

  “Then?” Ellie looks hopeful.

  I glance at the cake, Ellie and then Cassidy. “I’d say . . . delicious.” I cock my chin toward her and scan her plump, kissable lips. “The cake will be delicious.”

  “See, it’s perfect.” Ellie gathers her things.

  Cassidy presses her water bottle against her cheek and rolls it across her lips.

  Mrs. Covington pokes the blue cake with the knife. “Eleanor, I—”

  “I’ll take the cake in the sketch, dark blue”—she points at the dyed cake— “and tasting like almonds. I’ll meet y’all at the dress shop.” And then she bolts, leaving me and Cassidy to deal with Mom’s consternation.

  I quickly rise and suggest Cassidy do the same with a tap. I offer my hand and gesture toward the door. “Got your armor on?” I whisper.

  “Not enough.” She pushes back from the table but doesn’t take my hand.

  “Sit, Ms. Beck,” Mom belches. “Quincy, darling make yourself scarce. Give Annabeth a call; she’s eager to see you.”

  I pull out Cassidy’s chair, allowing her to fall back into it, then scoot into the seat next to her. “I’m good right here.”

  Mom huffs, giving me the same evil eyes she gave whenever I snuck out of the house and stayed out way beyond curfew. “I believe, Ms. Beck, we discussed at length that I’m to approve any such propositions before it’s given as an option. Maybe I wasn’t clear. This is my event, my wedding, with my name at stake.” Mom thrusts the sketchbook at the chef. “You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through in planning this wedding.”

  Cassidy blinks rapidly. Her cheeks marble under the fluorescent lights making them appear slapped. She pretty much was. “I know how important your daughter’s wedding is and understand how grand the social engagements must be. Honest, I would never do anything to screw them up, I just think Ellie’s searching for fresh ideas; that’s why she won’t commit to a cake or flowers or dresses. I’m almost positive she would have said no to everything today if I hadn’t shown her something completely different.”

  “A few days with my daughter and you’re an expert? I’ve been dealing with her social engagements my entire life; if anyone’s the expert, it’s me.”

  “I’m not saying your choices suck—”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyes grow wider than the bonbons in the display.

  “I’m just saying, you must’ve seen my potential or you wouldn’t have approved my internship. I can do this job.” Cassidy counters Mom’s angry stare with a steel hard glare of her own.

  “Cocky, aren’t you?”

  “Persistent.”

  “Ballsy.”

  I hold back the snort I want so badly to release and rise to my feet. “Why did you hire her, Mom?”

  “Stay out of this, Quincy.”

  “I would, but I know you. You don’t hire sort-of-maybe-type individuals. You only hire the best of the best. If you agreed to take her on as an intern, then you saw her potential.” I rise and thrum my fingers on the back of the chair.

  “You have promise, Ms. Beck, but your talent needs to be honed in the right direction. Right now, your ideas are too vast. You need to nail down your focus.”

  “Like tunnel vision?” Cassidy seems hopeful.

  “I’ve said enough and I need to head to another meeting. I gave you six weeks, Ms. Beck, but I can shorten it to one.” Mom rises and Cassidy follows suit.

  “Are you saying I’m not doing a good job?” Cassidy asks.

  “Your artistic abilities are phenomenal, but your people skills are lacking. You’d fare better keeping your comments to yourself.”

  Cassidy’s mouth opens, words teeter on her bobbing lip. “Did you get to where you are today by keeping your comments to yourself?”

  Priceless. She cornered Mom the way Mom cornered her. Watching them is like watching two queens diplomatically war over a single realm while staying at the top of their game.

  “Let’s come to an understanding. Blow my mind or you’re fired.”

  “Noted.” Cassidy gathers up her papers and jots down a few notes before slipping everything into her bag.

  “That went well,” I say after the door shuts behind Mom.

  “If that went well, then what does something going bad look like?”

  “You don’t want to know.” I chuckle and lead her out, making sure to get at least one hand on her. I pat her lower back and then take both her shoulders and give them a good squeeze.

  She sighs into it instead of tensing but won’t look me in the eyes.

  “Cassidy,” I whisper.

  Her chin tilts up and she gives me a crooked smile. There’s a brief moment where I’m ninety-nine percent positive she’d let me kiss her. Right there in front of everyone walking by.

  She breaks the moment, turning away from me to fan her armpits. “Great. Stress stains.”

  I chuckle. “A little hot?”

  She peers over her shoulder, gaze raking down me like she’s stripped me down to my socks. “A lot.”

  Chapter 6

  Cassidy

  After a full day of meetings with Ellie, I’m not back at the plantation more than five minutes before she texts and requests my presence in her room. A rest to clear my brain would be nice, but I doubt that would be a legitimate excuse. I debate leaving behind the wedding binder, but in the end bring it along. Just in case she’s changing the cake, the flowers, the location, or the date. Who knows with her.

  “Oh, good. You haven’t changed outfits. Kat and I are meeting friends at the yacht club and you’re coming with us. Wait here while I throw on something fresh.” Ellie points at her bed and disappears into her ginormous closet.

  Going to the yacht club where the Covingtons are members isn’t a great idea. In fact, it’s the worst idea. “I have a lot to do,” I say loud enough for her to hear.

  “Mom won’t be there. Just you, me, and Kat.”

  I don’t necessarily like going behind Mrs. Covington’s back and knowingly breaking her rules, but I could use a break from wedding stuff. Plus, she didn’t mention Quinn. A full day with him touching my elbow, leaning close to my ear, casting glances he must know by now make me weak. He has my girly parts revved up, especially after the other night. I can’t believe roasting marshmallows over flames turned into heating me up instead. That did me in.

  I wander to the window and stare out over the field. In the distance stands a quaint little house—a scaled-down model of this one. The columns supporting the porch aren’t as grand, and instead of pristine white clapboard, ivy covers the facade. I think there’s a patio or something in front of it but can’t tell exactly what it is from so far away.

  I drop my gaze to the red barn beyond a freshly cut field and follow the four-wheeler someone drives out of it. The driver heads toward the main house and parks below my window beside a fallen tree. That’s when I notice Quinn chopping a pile of wood. Quinn, shirt off, is more dazzling than I imagined—and fuel for my dreams tonight. Tight lines dissect his rather perfect abs into six strokeable packs. Tan, lean muscles pulse in his arms as he brandishes an ax over his head and brings it down into the wood with a thud. Damn. That completely turns me on. I inch closer to the glass for a better view.

  His tattoos are on full display. The vine isn’t just a vine, but achingly beautiful barbed wire, as if a country fence wrestled a rose bush, making it feminine and masculine at the same time. He raises his arms again, hovering the ax before slicing it through the air to split another log. Over his heart is a mass of tangled thorns and wire. They strangle his heart and look like they could prevent it from pumping at any second. I suck in a gasp.

  “Like what you see?” I hear behind me.

  I step away from
the window but not before stealing another glance. “No, I . . . his tattoos.”

  “Mom about shit a farm when she saw them.” Kat steps up to the window. “Of course, she’s only seen what’s around his neck and arms. She’d shit a fucking continent if she saw his chest.”

  “It’s so disturbingly dark . . . cryptic.” I scoot toward the window, wanting to look for more reasons than just curiosity.

  She huffs under her breath. “He’s dark.” She turns and puts her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t think he is; I mean . . . there is a light in him. Don’t you think?” I turn to Kat. It’s only then I realize who I’m talking to. She isn’t Lilian whom I’d spill my guts to, she’s Quinn’s angry, hurt sister. “Sorry, I was just—”

  “No, you’re right.” She pulls the sheer drapes together. “The Quinn I remember is there. I just don’t know if I can be the Kat he remembers.”

  “I don’t think he expects that. He just wants a chance to be here for you now.” I follow her out of Ellie’s room and down the stairs. A little bit thinks he wants to be here for me, too. But that’s imagined, right? We just met. And yeah, I’d totally hook up with him if I met him in a bar, probably take him home, but come morning, I’d give him the boot. I don’t let guys stick around. Not for breakfast, not for my number, and not for me.

  Pulling into the yacht club, I get a sense of what it’s like living in Charleston where everything is historic. The building isn’t like the weathered shingle-clad buildings lining the piers back home. The brick facade mimics most of the other structures in town, and painted pristine white it has a distinguished charm that hides a century of flaws. Plantation shutters brighten the windows and bright red begonias perk up the overall appeal.

  Inside, a crystal chandelier hangs from a thick brass chain. Wallpaper, elaborate and most definitely expensive, covers the entry where the deskman greets Ellie and Kat with a friendly nod and small talk. No bellman in Boston could ever fake that kind of genuine welcome.

  We make our way through a glitzy ballroom behind a grand staircase.

  “This is where our debuts are held,” Ellie says. “It’s when we’re introduced to society and deemed acceptable, responsible adults.”

  “Acceptable if responsibly bred,” Kat adds.

  I fight my smile. “I’d never pass as acceptable.”

  Kat actually smiles, and it’s more gorgeous than Ellie’s award-winning smile.

  “Oh there’s Annabeth; come, I want you to meet her. She’s darling.”

  “And your maid of honor, right?” I follow Ellie through conversations touching on my-yacht’s-bigger-than-yours and summering-in-Italy-isn’t-as-grand-as-summering-in-France.

  “Interesting crowd,” I say to Kat who falls in step beside me.

  “Mom’s socialite friend’s offspring. They either come off chartered boats or drive in from their private schools. It’s just a big fucking brouhaha of who gets paid the most to do the least.”

  “So a pissing contest.”

  She smiles. “Yeah, paunchy men with sex-crazed cocky-ass sons, and daughters who think their pedestals aren’t ever polished or high enough.”

  “So you must come here all the time.”

  She lets out a loud laugh. “I like you.”

  Ellie stops to hug and kiss a group of girls who preen and paw over her hair, her dress, her engagement ring.

  “You’re not that bad yourself. Now quick, give me the four one one on Annabeth. I’ve heard your mom mention her several times.”

  Kat turns her back to the group. “Quinn’s ex. Insatiable appetite for status. Not above using her wealth to get ahead or to put others in their place . . . or the place she thinks they should be in.”

  “Got it, avoid her at all cost.”

  “If you don’t want to be on her radar.”

  I grin as we follow Ellie through the French doors. A waiter hands us each a glass of wine, even Kat though she’s underage.

  “AnnaBee!” Ellie hugs her friend. “Where were you today?”

  “My sister dropped off her son today. I was helping Mom. I should’ve called.” She leans in and hugs Ellie.

  “Oh? I thought your sister wasn’t going to be able to make it to the wedding. That she was tied up in France and couldn’t get away.”

  Annabeth shifts from one foot to the other then back. “Right. Which is why we’re watching her son for the summer. She flies back tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t even know she and her husband had a kid, I feel so bad. I never sent her anything.”

  “Yeah, a lot of people said they didn’t get her announcement. Air mail problems, maybe. So who is this?” Annabeth puts out her hand and smiles. Her eyes brighten and twinkle playfully, like they each possess the North star.

  “Oh, gosh, where are my manners.” Ellie grabs my hand and squeezes. “Meet Cassidy, Mom’s intern. She’s a dream.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  I take her hand. “Likewise. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other as the wedding date gets closer.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “She’s staying at the house,” Kat interjects. “So if you stop by, you’ll most likely find Quinn with her.”

  I choke on my wine and press the back of my hand against my lips. Cutting a WTF glare at Kat before turning to Annabeth, I try to correct her. “Doubtful. Unless I’m doing something with the groomsmen.”

  “So Quinn is staying?” Annabeth asks Ellie.

  “He says he is. At least through the wedding.”

  “Through Cassidy being here,” Kat mutters. She walks off, putting her drink down on one of the cocktail tables.

  “Sorry, she’s just sore about Quinn’s return,” Ellie explains. “It’s been hard on all of us, but mostly her.”

  “And me,” Annabeth quips.

  I drop my gaze, wishing I could escape like Kat, but I know no one here and my chances of getting out alive don’t seem high.

  “I was so depressed after he left. Took months for me to want to leave the house. I looked atrocious. Let my hair go and my nails were in shambles. I didn’t wear makeup for weeks, not until . . . until Mom sent me to live at our house in France. She thought the sun and beaches would fix the hole in my chest, but I think it only made it bigger.” She tosses her hand in the air like she’s shooing flies. “None of the guys who rallied for my attention can replace my Quinny.”

  No one can replace the nausea in my pit. Can you say “fake”?

  “That sounds awful.” I appease her thirst for attention. France. The beach. Guys fawning. Looking atrocious. Is that even possible? She’s a diamond in this room. Exquisite and graceful. As we stand here, I’ve counted eight guys who haven’t taken their eyes off of her.

  “It was, but I’m back. He’s back. We can start fresh. Many things to forgive but many things to celebrate, too.” Annabeth waves to someone across the room. “And there he is. I must admit, these butterflies make me dizzy.” She places her hand over her stomach.

  I glance at Quinn, who smiles when Annabeth gestures for him to join us. I must admit, the butterflies in my stomach make my toes leave the ground and my heart spin in my chest like a carousel on crack.

  “Hello, ladies.” Quinn pecks his sister on the cheek. He makes his rounds, hugging and kissing Annabeth and then me. “Need an escape?” he whispers.

  Do I ever. From him.

  “Quinny, oh my stars, it’s great to see you.” Annabeth links her arm around his though his other hand still lingers on my lower back. Tears make her eyes glisten but none fall. Probably because they’d be slaughtered if they screwed up her mascara.

  “Hi, Annabeth.” He nods. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Too long,” she giggles. “But you’re here now. Care to take a walk with me on the beach?” She glances toward the steps leading to the ocean. “We must catch up.”

  “I’d love to—”

  “Great, let’s grab—”

  “But I promised Cassidy a tour of the
building—she’s into historic architecture. And then I thought I’d show her the ruins down the way.”

  He did? I am? What? “Oh, I can wait. You two have a lot of catching up to do, it seems.”

  He leans into my ear. “A little help here.”

  I rub my neck, then scratch my cheek, trying to appear less flustered than I feel. “But you did tell me to hold you to your . . . promise,” I say in an unintelligible string of syllables.

  “Great. Annabeth, how about we get together later?” Quinn pulls me away from his sister and ex. “Another day? Over coffee or something.”

  “Well, sure, but I have a lot to catch you up on. Please don’t put it off too long, five years is long enough,” she jabs.

  “Ouch,” I whisper.

  “Typical,” Quinn mutters. “Will do.” He rushes me down the steps toward the sand, ignoring the friendly calls thrown his way. He even ignores the girls who walk up to him and make a point to brush their hands along his arm or back. He doesn’t slow until we’re several buildings past the club and out of his ex’s kill zone.

  “Lovely, isn’t she?” he keeps his gaze on the tide.

  “Who, Annabeth or the twenty-odd twentysomething girls who copped a feel? Holy art thou, it appears.”

  He chuckles and rubs his stomach before returning his hand to my back. Casually touchy and very sneaky. “You think I’m hot?”

  “You think you’re not?”

  He presses his lips into a crooked smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “To be honest, you’re the best fucking fantastic depressing idea ever. I keep going back and forth about what I think of you. You’re charming, and yes, hot, but I can’t afford to lose my scholarship because your mom fires me for hanging out with you. We really need to keep a distance, but you make it damn near impossible.”

  “Hmmm, so how do we remedy that?” He leads me to two Adirondack chairs beaten raw from the wind and sand.

  I snort, “Fire your mom.”