great.” Maybe I can clear my head that way.
He leads me to a set of large doors that lead out onto a balcony that overlooks the garden at the back of the museum. When I was eight, I stood up in my parents’ friends’ wedding as the flower girl here, which spurred my own dreams of having a wedding here since it was so beautiful. I used to dream about walking out on this balcony as all the guests sat down below, kissing my husband after we promised ourselves to each other.
Due to the weather, though, there’s only a scattering of people, most tucked under the standing heaters. Garrin and I walk over to one that’s vacant and stand under its warm orange light.
I open my mouth to apologize once more when Garrin slips his hand inside his jacket and pulls out a cigar. I can’t help but eye the rolled-up tube of leaves with disdain. He brings the cigar to his mouth and places it between his lips.
I squeeze my eyes shut and toss back the rest of my champagne. When I hear the sound of a lighter flick, I open my eyes and watch as he brings the flame closer to the end of the cigar.
My chest grows tight and I swear I’m having an out-of-body experience when I blurt out, “Wait! Don’t!”
Garrin’s thumb slides off the lighter and he pulls the cigar out of his mouth. “Isla?”
Suddenly I want to ramble everything out to him, confess to someone how frightened I am that I’m going to lose my father. But my mouth dries and my nerve dies. The last time I opened up to someone that wasn’t a therapist was when I told Asher I was a virgin.
Garrin tucks the cigar in his jacket, and his hand runs along my bare arm. “You can trust me.”
And I want to believe him. I really do. But I’m not sure I can.
18
Chapter Eighteen
Garrin
I need to figure out what the hell is going on with Isla. Whatever is wrong with her has to be directly correlated to why my dad has a sudden interest in her.
“You can trust me,” I repeat.
She opens her mouth and then closes it, her eyes lingering on my hand, which rests on her arm, and then on the ground. I’m showing more patience than my usual level, which resembles a Doberman with a steak a bite away. “I just don’t like cigars. They stink.”
I could call her bullshit. The pain that’s filling her eyes isn’t because of the expensive Cuban in the interior pocket of my tuxedo.
“I need to use the restroom,” she says.
“All right—” I place my hand on the small of her back to lead her back inside.
She takes a step and then stops. “No, you stay here. I’ll meet you back inside in a few minutes.”
I’m not used to being in this situation. She looks almost panicked, yet she won’t confide in me. Usually I wouldn’t give a shit unless it had something to do with me. Which is the exact stance I should have right now. I need to bring back my don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.
“I’ll see you inside, then.”
She hurries toward the door, past two men, talking in hushed voices to one another. They watch with rapt attention as she walks past them. I can’t blame them, she’s so damn hot, especially tonight. Which is why I want to beat the shit out of them too.
The quicker I learn what my dad wants from her, the sooner I can have control of my life again and push her away. She’s changing me and I don’t like it. Since when would I not light the cigar just because she has a problem? I’m falling under the same spell I did in high school, but the difference is that now I have a lot more to lose than my pride.
Ryker steps out onto the patio, interrupting me rolling our conversation back over in my head.
“Stone. How’s your date going?” he asks when he joins me near the heater.
“Why?”
He shrugs and puts his hands in the pockets of his tux pants. “Just curious. Do you think you’ll get a kiss goodnight?” His cocky smirk grates on the last of my nerves tonight.
My jaw clenches. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this handled. Where’s Lincoln?”
“Fuck if I know. We were gonna ride over together, but he texted me and said he was in the middle of something. You know what he gets like when he’s hacking