8. Reigning

EIGHT

REIGNING

KRIS

M ary and Patrick Scott reign over this event from a table in the center of the room despite the bride not being their daughter. As the managing partner of the Scott Law Firm, Patrick also rules over the entire family, according to Bailey.

For most of the reception, her parents sit at their table while guest after guest comes up to them to pay their respects. Vanessa’s parents, Kurt and Anne, sit next to them, but it’s plain to see who the people regard most. It surprises me that people don’t kiss Patrick’s ring.

“Don’t tell me good old Pat is secretly in charge of the Irish mafia in Portland?” I joke, although the old guy does paint an intimidating picture, from what I can tell from about ten yards away.

“He’s revered by many, that’s for certain. The Scotts have been a well-respected family here for decades with many connections.” She states, inhaling and blowing out a deep breath as if calming herself. I put my hand on the low of her back and press her flesh, my favorite place tonight. Although her nice ass on my lap during dessert felt amazing, too.

“Bailey, I’m here. Lean on me. I won’t let anyone hurt you tonight. Now, are you sure they won’t know who I am from your articles?”

“Trust me. Mom told me they never read the ones I wrote in L.A. They only keep up with the news in Portland because I write about so many of the events and people they hobnob with.”

“Good.” Last thing I need is their judgement of me spilling over into their treatment of her. Not that I deserve their scrutiny. It’s one night, we can get through this.

Or could it be something else?

As the evening continues, the more I’m around Bailey, the more of her I want, which isn’t my usual action. I get bored with a woman after one date. Not that this is a date officially.

Something about her makes me want to roll with it and see where this leads. Take at least a few more dates to be sure that I’m ready to hang up my playboy days and give something real a try.

Tonight, though, I’m here for her. Nothing serious. I got her to laugh, so I’ll work at gaining more laughs from her before the night is over. For now, that’s enough.

“Ready?” I gesture to her parent’s table when there’s a break between guests visiting them. She blows out another breath and nods. As we approach, closing the distance between us, I swear they see us coming. They get up from the table and walk away arm in arm.

Bailey stops mid-step, a mortified look on her face. She lowers her head and glances around at all the other people like she feels the weight of everyone watching her parents snub her. That’s how it is, and I see it clearly. Patrick dictates the tone of the night. I won’t stand for these people treating her this way. It doesn’t sit well with me at all.

“This is a load of crap. Come with me.” I take her by the hand and follow quickly after them, ignoring her protests. We cut them off before they exit the room, stopping right in their path. I make sure Bailey is right behind me. This conversation will take a particular kind of kissing ass to achieve results and I’m the guy for the job.

“Excuse me, Mr. And Mrs. Scott, I’m glad I ran into you. I’m Kris and I’m with your daughter tonight. I wanted to share with you that Bailey is one of the most caring, kind, and smart women I’ve ever met. You brought her into this world, so I had to come and thank you because she’s pretty special to me. And I feel certain that she must have come from equally caring parents.”

I speak loud enough for people around us to hear. Patrick knows it, too. His eyes dart around us before he answers, breaking out into a smile.

“Why, thank you. Bailey has always been…one to find her own way in life. Too bad it wasn’t in the field of law.” While Patrick’s steely eyes engage me directly, his wife places a hand on Bailey’s arm and squeezes.

“Law isn’t for everyone, dear,” Mrs. Scott says, making it sound nice when it really is a dig at her daughter.

“I know, Mom. Why do you think I didn’t want to study it in school?”

“But isn’t journalism similar to law through pursuit of the truth? At least that’s what I was brought up to believe.” I charge ahead with my attack. “Only in law, you represent one side. While Bailey tries to inform the public about all sides of an issue. I think that’s something to be proud of. I know you have several children, which means you must be very blessed and proud of all of them, each with their own strengths.”

“I admire your pluck, young man. But the type of news she reports on is far from hard-hitting journalism.” He smirks. I have to hand it to Patrick for not giving up his haughty standards.

“We all have to start somewhere, right? Bailey’s time to shine is coming. You wait and see,” I respond back.

“Everything okay here, Pat?” Vanessa’s father comes to his side. “If you’re done here, there are other people waiting to see you.”

“Are we done here?” Patrick looks to me with an eyebrow raised. I want to grab him by the necktie and tell him we’re not done until he gives his daughter a bit of encouragement. My jaw turns to steel instead. They don’t deserve her.

“Are we, Bailey?” I defer to her.

“I think we are. Mom, Dad, it’s so good to see you tonight, as always.” I recognize her sarcasm all too well and hide a smile.

“We’re glad you came. I’m sure Vanessa appreciates it,” her mother says. For all I know, she’s the reason we’re sitting in the back.

“Right. Well, my date promised me a dance, didn’t he?” She peers up at me.

“Absolutely. We haven’t danced yet tonight and I think this is our song.” I whisk Bailey away from these people to the dance floor. I’d take her further, far away, if I could.

“Please don’t tell me you have two left feet,” she mutters under her breath.

I put her into my firm dance hold. “Irish, hold on tight, because I’ve got the moves.”

We take off in a waltz around the dance floor. I twirl her around until she’s breathless. People are admiring us like we’re famous dancers on TV. Camera flashes go off. The entire time, I’m trying to release the aggravation from my one experience with her father.

When the next song changes to an even slower one, we stop and sway in one spot, my arms around her back and hers around my neck. Our bodies connect down the front, every touch point driving me wild for her.

I place my forehead to hers. “I hope I didn’t overstep speaking to your parents, but I couldn’t let them treat you that way.”

“It’s fine, Kris. But how did you know that’s exactly why I went into journalism instead of law?” She asks.

“I didn’t, but that’s what I think it should be. Pursuit of the truth.”

She gasps and begs me with her eyes. “Please, Kris, there’s something I have to tell you about Tia.” I put my finger to her lips.

“No. I already told you. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Even if it’s the truth?”

I shake my head and press a lock of her dark hair back from her face. My knuckles draw along the fair skin of her cheek. “I think I have all the truth I need right here in my arms. You dazzle me tonight, Irish.”

I pull her closer and whisper in her ear as we sway. “At least I can count a win with your brothers. I hope the sports talk with them didn’t get boring for you?”

“Not at all. I enjoyed watching you talk about hockey.”

“It’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was nine or ten, maybe earlier than that, when my dad put my first hockey stick into my hands.”

“Your passion for the game shines through.”

“See, now why couldn’t you have written about my passion in all your articles about me?” She stiffens in my hold. I take a step back. “Relax, Irish. I was kidding.”

The silence takes over for a moment. This might be more than either of us can handle, if the past keeps coming between us, even if I said it only to be funny.

“I’ve never been to a hockey game,” she admits, melting into my arms again. “My brothers played some sports growing up, but they were more into academic pursuits, following in Dad’s footsteps. I think that’s why I didn’t reach out to interview you. The world of sports isn’t really my thing. Except the human interest stories. I like those.”

“Me too. The ones where the players have to overcome challenging odds to rise above and win? Very inspiring.”

“Yes, exactly.” Her smile melts, and a tear appears in the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I should have interviewed you. Tia interviewed with me shortly after you broke up, and I should have offered with you, so that I presented both sides. I failed as a journalist. Guess that’s a truth I’m only seeing now, in hindsight.”

“Easy fix. If I play a good season and help the team bring home the championship cup, I’ll let you have first dibs at interviewing me, Irish.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like that.” The way her lips curve up at me, with her eyes sparkling gems, it’s like I’ve already won.

“You’re so beautiful, Bailey.” The pull to her is unreal. A magnet drawing me in that I don’t have the power to fight. I want her and I have to have her.

My eyes drop to her lips and I lean in and?—

“Are you going to kiss me?” She asks.

“Yeah, Irish. I am, and everyone is watching, so we better make it good.”

One corner of her mouth turns up, sultry and seductive. “You say you’re a ten, so I would expect nothing but the best.”

I can’t live a second longer without knowing the feel of her lips. I brush them with mine. Something so sweet to start, like her, a woman with a sweet soul. The next kiss, I land fully on her full lips, my heart thumping out of my chest. Then the next…

Someone taps me on the shoulder. I want to throat punch whoever it is. I turn to see who dares to cut in to find the motherfucking groom standing there.

“Mind if I cut in?” He snarls and sets eyes on me through slits, expectantly waiting for me to drop my hold on Bailey. News flash: I won’t.