Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,103

around her. Thankfully, Chase’s hand tightens on mine in a quick squeeze, and I snap out of my stupor.

“Gemma,” I murmur, reaching out with tentative fingers to take her hand. “Gemma Summers.”

“Nice to meet you, Gemma Summers.”

I attempt to smile back at her. “You too.”

“Killer dress.”

“Oh, thanks.” I glance down at myself, still in disbelief that such a gorgeous design is on my body. “I borrowed it from a friend.”

“Well, it’s fabulous. I’ve been staring at it all night — and not just because it’s the only spot of color amidst all this navy and black.” She makes a gagging face. “My great aunt Tessie is more daring with her fashion choices than some of these women, and she’s ninety-six. Then again, she’s also been known to strip down to her birthday suit and run through the halls at the nursing home, so she’s not always the best judge of proper attire.”

I laugh, despite myself. “Well, if the people here had as much life as your aunt, it would probably be a much better party.”

“Undoubtedly.”

I grimace. “Though I could do without seeing some of these people in the nude.”

She laughs with such infectious, uninhibited joy, I can’t help but smile at the sound of it.

“Phoebe, why don’t you and Gemma get a drink?” Brett’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife strike. “My cousin and I have some things to catch up on.”

My eyes move to Chase, a question in their depths, and he gives a terse nod.

“But—” I start to protest.

“Just for a minute, sunshine.” Chase squeezes my hand tight before dropping it and turning back to Brett, anger radiating from his every pore. I open my mouth, fully prepared to insist on staying by his side, but the feeling of an arm looping through mine distracts me.

“Another glass of wine sounds perfect,” Phoebe says, leading me toward the bar with such familiarity, you’d think she’d known me years, not minutes. “They probably have to discuss something terribly boring, like a merger. An acquisition. Profit margins.” She makes another gagging sound. “It’s enough to drive a girl to drink.”

“Hence the open bar.”

“Thank god for that.” She shakes her head as we reach the bar. “Now, for the most important question of all…”

I raise my brows.

“Red or white?”

I laugh. “Red.”

“Me too,” she says, grinning as she gives a waiting bartender our order. Mere seconds later, he slides two heavy crystal goblets across the marble countertop. Phoebe passes one to me, clicks her glass against mine, and takes a hearty sip.

As my fingers curl around the glass, I dart a glance at Chase. He’s still talking to Brett and whatever they’re discussing is not making him happy. In fact, his expression has grown so dark, I worry his head is about to explode.

I take a sip of my wine and turn back to Phoebe. I’m mid-swallow when she makes a startling announcement.

“I’ve decided we’re going to be friends.” Her eyes twinkle with humor. “Because I’ve been to enough of these functions to know, you can’t get through them alone.”

Friends?

I can’t speak — mostly because I’m struggling not to spit my mouthful of wine all over her as her words rattle around my skull.

It doesn’t seem to bother her that I don’t respond; she just grins wider and leans closer, her voice dropping low. “I never would’ve come, if Brett hadn’t invited me. I didn’t think he knew I existed, until he called earlier. I mean, our mothers ran in the same society circles, and we’ve crossed paths a few times at functions like this, but he’s never even looked my way — until today. I don’t know what changed, but I wasn’t about to say no — these Croft boys are hot. Mega hot. Burn your freaking tongue hot.”

God, she even sounds like me when she talks.

I swallow hard. “Tell me about it.”

“So, you and Chase are—”

I never get to hear the rest of her question because suddenly, the boys are back. There’s a careful distance between them, when they appear at our sides, and neither of them looks particularly happy. But considering no one is on the floor bleeding, I’m thinking that’s pretty much par for the course, with them.

Chase squeezes my hand and I turn to look at him, instantly troubled by the darkness in his eyes.

“Dinner’s about to start. Let’s go find our table, sunshine.”

I tighten my fingers, squeezing to let him know I’ve heard him.

“Great! I’m starved.” Brett smiles that oily smile of his. Unfortunately, it