Page 38 of Into the Woods
Geez, are you finding a boyfriend or a car, Bex?
I mentally slapped myself back into the moment, shoving aside my wandering thoughts.
Eric let out a shuddering breath, probably mistaking my silence for reluctance. “Maybe we should go.”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I think it’s sweet that you want to be here for your friend. But I can leave if—”
“Absolutely not.” He seemed insulted that I’d even suggest it. “But thank you for being so understanding, Bex.”
He pressed another chaste kiss to my forehead before stepping back and lowering a hand to the small of my back to guide me to the table.
There were two empty seats, and Colby jumped up to pull out the one next to him while flashing me a winning smile.
“Thank you,” I murmured, sliding into the seat and watching Eric lower himself into the chair beside me. Clearing my throat, I looked at Geoffry across the table. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather.”
Geoffry paused halfway to lifting a tumbler of an amber-colored liquid to his lips. He gave me a slow, unfocused blink. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He tossed back the drink with a grimace and signaled for another.
I looked at Eric, worried for his friend.
Eric’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for my hand under the table.
“So, Bex,” Colby began, turning to me with a megawatt smile, “tell us about yourself.”
“Uh… what do you want to know?” I hedged.
“Let’s start with the basics. How old are you?”
“She completed her senior year at Pacific Cross early,” Eric answered for me, pride bleeding through his tone.
Something in Colby’s gaze shifted to almost predatory. He made a tsking noise and sipped his water as he leaned toward me. “Eric, I never took you for a cradle robber. How very wicked of you.”
Eric shot him a look. “I’d encourage you to keep a civil tongue. Her grandparents are Laurent and Ines Moreau. If the fact that she’s here as my personal guest doesn’t remind you of your manners, then their name may.”
Colby jerked back, sobering, and I flinched a little.
It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my grandparents; quite the opposite. They were known across Europe for their philanthropy and patronage of the arts. The Moreau name was well established in Paris as eponymous with the leading French banking system. They were at the tippy-top of Parisian society.
But it made me cringe when people name-dropped them.
“My apologies,” Colby murmured. “Eric, your brother is also dating one of the Moreau granddaughters, isn’t he?” His eyes flashed. “Or did you steal this one from him?”
Eric huffed. “Of course not.”
“Alex is dating my cousin, Camille,” I explained with a forced smile.
Brent looked up from where he’d been typing on his phone at the other end of the table. “The ballerina, yeah?”
I nodded. “You know her?”
Brent shrugged. “My mother used to dance. She dragged me to a performance the last time I was in town and raved about her. I remember her mentioning she was Ines Moreau’s granddaughter.”
“My cousin is very talented,” I admitted.
“She’s hot. Pity Alex got to her first,” Brent replied, then went back to his phone.
Okay then.
Eric stiffened and glared at Brent. “Would you put down the—”