The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Eight: The Other Parties

For the next ten minutes, I rambled on in easy, upbeat conversation with everyone.

Kinda went like this...

"Marco, how did that root canal go? Having trouble with it at all?"

"Dennis, buddy. I looked up that movie and I'm pretty sure it was Harrison Ford, not Dustin Hoffman, who played the president. I know. He plays the president in like half a dozen movies."

"Did you bring her to the Rose Patch? Told you she'd totally dig it. Trust me on this, Ren."

"Sheena, I saw that photo you took of me as I was coming out of the bookstore. Now everyone thinks I'm vegan for some reason. I just wanted to look at possible mini-greenhouse ideas. I can't give up meat."

"Brandon promised me he won't talk about work tonight so no comment on the acquisition. Trent, you know better than to talk business with me."

"Chad, tell your wife to toast the pecans. It deepens their flavor and compliments the vanilla in the dough. Yeah, yeah. I'll send you a recipe."

"Honeymoon's a surprise. Right, babe? I've tried playing detective but it's a well-guarded secret. I'll be as surprised as all of you when I find out, I'm sure."

Ten minutes later, Brandon practically dragged me away.

"I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that you talk to the paps like you're all buddies," he murmured, slipping an arm behind my waist. 

I shrugged. "I got to know them pretty well. Spending all day running around trying to take photos or talk to people who have no interest in dealing with them is a diffcult job so I try to make it easier for them. It's a good system. They leave me alone when I ask them, and I give them something back so they can do their job. We all get along that way."

Brandon's hold on my arm tightened and kept me in place just as we were about to walk through the front door. His other hand rested on my hip and his forehead touched mine.

"I really shouldn't be surprised anymore but I am," he said with a smile before brushing a kiss on my lips. "Come on. Everyone wants to meet you."

If Brandon meant to reassure me with that kiss, he was gravely mistaken because the last thing I needed before going into the den of the city's upper class was undoing my fragile composure with the mere touch of his lips on mine.

The doors opened and my hand on Brandon's arm gripped harder. 

A voice boomed through the PA and announced us with a lively congratulations on our upcoming wedding.

I swallowed hard. My heart might have possibly relocated somewhere in the vicinity of my throat but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"You're going to do great, Charlotte," he murmured under his breath while gracing the crowd who turned to us at our arrival with a brilliant smile. People started applauding.

I nodded slightly, glancing up at him. "Cheeseburgers and fries later, okay?"

He looked at me, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners in humor. "Cheeseburgers and fries."

He took my hand and gently led me forward just as Martin stepped out and greeted both of us with a hug, smiling and laughing.

"Charlotte, look at you! You're exquisite!" he said as he leaned in to kiss me on the forehead. "Isn't she, Brand?"

"She is," Brandon agreed with an indulgent smile. "You're looking good too, Dad."

It was true. The old man had a healthy flush on his cheeks and his blue eyes were bright and clear.