Is it an act? It must be. What’s her angle, though? What is she trying to get out of Nadia?
I clear my throat, drawing Rae’s gaze. Her eyes drop to her two large Prada suitcases. She lets out a sigh. “Oh. Right.”
“I’ll bring them in. You do the flowers.”
Nadia gives me a soft smile, and Rae starts grabbing boxes of roses. As I wheel the two suitcases inside, I glance over my shoulder to watch the two women working.
My heart tugs.
I would’ve expected Rae to not give Nadia a second look, and maybe wheel her expensive suitcases right over Nadia’s fallen flowers.
But to drop everything to help her?
When I get inside, I explain the situation to the front desk. As I haul the suitcases into a small storage room behind the desk, I notice the frayed edges of the bags, and the long, jagged rip down the front of one of them. These bags may be expensive, but they’re not new.
I frown, glancing over my shoulder at Rae. Who is this girl? I would have expected her to never be caught dead with last season’s bags. That’s what rich folk are like. But to have a ten or twelve-year-old car and worn-out designer luggage? It doesn’t track.
Brushing the thought aside, I grab a luggage trolley near the door. When I get outside, Nadia’s in the van and waving at Rae, who’s standing next to a mountain of boxes of flowers.
The van drives off, and Rae’s gaze shifts to me. Her lips tug into a smile when she sees me wheel the luggage trolley toward her.
“Looks like the hotel has a valet, after all.” She smiles wider, her deep, brown eyes sparkling. Why does she have to be so damn beautiful? She loads a box onto the trolley, flicking her eyes to me. “Thanks for helping.”
I grunt, ignoring her smile and the way it pierces right through my wall. That chink in my armor is growing bigger by the second. I do my best to barricade it closed. “I’m doing this for Nadia. She’s a friend. Not for you.”
Rae’s smile falters, and her lips pinch into a thin line. She gives me a curt nod. “Noted.”
I almost regret my harsh words. Almost. But still, front and center in my mind, are all the things Sawyer has told me about his family. About his exile. About the fact that he never wants to see them again.
Who cares if Rae surprised me by helping someone out in need? Who cares if her car isn’t brand-new? People are multi-faceted. She can still be a terrible person and do a good deed. Just because she picked some flowers up off the ground instead of stomping all over them doesn’t mean she wasn’t a horrible sister to Sawyer.
My loyalty is to Sawyer—no matter how gorgeous his sister happens to be.
When half a dozen hotel employees rush out to help us, clamoring around Rae and practically bowing in reverence, I’m reminded of that fact. She’s not from here. She’s not nice, or kind, or humble.
Rae is royalty—at least in her mind. She comes from another world, where money buys respect, and integrity is a foreign concept. She lets the staff help her load up the boxes, wiping her hands on her jeans when all the flowers are moved inside.
As it turns out, she didn’t even have to lift a finger. Her perfectly manicured nails stay nice and clean, and she leaves the dirty work to us grubby folk.
Figures.
4
Rae
I watch Benji drive away, hating how much it tugs at my chest.
I shouldn’t care that he left without looking back. I shouldn’t care that he gave me the cold shoulder—big and muscular as that shoulder may be. He wasted no time in reminding me how little he thought of me, even when I was going out of my way to help his friend. Not that I was doing it to impress him.
I’ve been in Nadia’s shoes—overwhelmed and under-appreciated, trying to do a mammoth job all on my own. I know how much it means to have someone lend a hand.
Plus, I have a soft spot for flowers. Designing gardens is what I wanted to do before everything fell apart. I still hold out hope that I can pursue it one day. Maybe once Roman is older and Lucy is settled. If Sawyer can run the garage and help Lucy out, I’ll be free to chase my dreams.
For now, though, it’ll be me taking care of the garage and Sawyer avoiding me like the plague. Landscape architecture will have to wait.
Turning when I hear my name, I see Nadia jogging across the hotel lobby toward me. She’s holding half a dozen roses in her hand and when she gets close, she thrusts them toward me.
“Here,” she says, beaming. “For you.”
“What for?”
“For helping me today! We got everything set up on time. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It wasn’t just me,” I say. “The staff at the hotel helped.” And Benji, but I refuse to say his name out loud. Asshole.
“It was you.” She smiles. “I’ve done the flowers for a hundred weddings in this hotel, and I’ve never seen any of the staff jump up to help like that.” She tilts her head, searching my face. “Are you some kind of big deal or something?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Hardly.”
“Well, either way, the flowers are a thank you. I will admit I gave you the ones that got damaged when I dropped them, so don’t think I’m some kind of saint or anything.” Her laugh is musical, and I can’t help but smile.
“They’re perfect.”
“My friends and I are going out for a drink tonight. You’re welcome to join.”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”
“Come on. Think of it as a welcome party. Woodvale is small, and there’s no better way to get to know the locals than a night at the Blue Cat Bar.”
I’m pretty sure Benji
