“He’s not our kind, Em,” my dad says.

“He’s not your kind, Dad,” I breathe out on a heavy sigh. “He’s most definitely my kind.”

“You can do better.” He pinches his lips together in a straight line. “Trip is afraid that you think you can’t do better than Logan because of your dyslexia.”

I stop and step back. “What?” He may as well have kneed me in the gut. Trip said as much to me, but I never expected my dad to even entertain the idea. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then let me be,” I say. I step back, and I walk around the edge of the dance floor looking for Logan. I am seething. The crowd parts to get out of my way. Except for Trip. Trip steps up beside me and holds out his arms for a dance.

“No, thank you,” I grit out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as though he’s all concerned.

“Nothing.” I don’t want to talk to Trip.

“You’re angry because Logan went outside with that girl?”

My eyes immediately meet his, and then his gaze skitters away. “What girl?” I ask. The girl he was dancing with? “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but they were looking pretty chummy.” He shrugs and points toward the terrace.

Logan is coming in the door at the same time I’m going out it. He’s tucking his shirt into his pants. My heart stops. He brushes the curls from his forehead and blows out a frustrated breath.

“Where have you been?” I ask.

“With Trip’s decoy, I’d suspect.” He takes my elbow and pulls me toward the terrace, and I can now see that it’s empty. She must have gone in the adjoining door. “I can’t believe he did that to me.” He looks off into space and rocks his head back and forth. “Well, actually, I can. He’s Trip, after all.”

“Did what?” I’m so confused.

“She said she was feeling sick and needed some air. And that she was so lightheaded she couldn’t walk by herself. So I brought her out here. Then her illness turned into octopus hands.” He gropes at me frantically, imitating her movements. His eyes narrow at me. “Did Trip send you out here?”

He did actually. “What difference does that make?”

“That sorry f**ker tried to set me up,” he growls. He smacks his hand against the wall. “I’m going to kill that little dicksmack.”

I lay a hand on his chest, and he closes his eyes. “She put the moves on you?” I ask.

“If you call those moves,” he says. He covers my hand with his, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart. “It was more like she wanted to drop and suck my dick. It was all I could do to get away from her.”

I cover my mouth. It’s not funny. It’s really not. But a laugh bubbles through. He looks so discouraged. He balls his hands into a fist. “I’m sorry,” I say, when his eyes narrow at me.

“You think this is funny,” he says, and he steps toward me, forcing me to take a step back. My back touches the wall, and his hands land on each side of my head, boxing me in. “You find it amusing, do you?” But his voice has gentled, and he nuzzles his lips against my neck.

“Well, the look on your face was pretty priceless,” I say. He finally grins.

“The look that said I needed to get the f**k out of there?” He kisses me softly and tenderly, and I realize he has a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb.

“Did she kiss you?” I ask.

“It was more like I had to play ‘Dodge the Kisses,’” he says. “She was determined to get lipstick on me.”

I wipe at a smudge that’s on his neck. This should make me angry. They’d hoped to make me angry at Logan. But I’m really just sad. It hurts me that they would try such a thing on such a good man. “I’m sorry,” I say as I place my head on his chest again. He takes a deep breath, and I can feel the tension drain from him.

My mom pokes her head out onto the terrace, her gaze worried. “There you are,” she says. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Do you want to go home?” I ask Logan. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

He arches an incredulous eyebrow. “And let them win? Fuck no. Have you lost your mind?”

He takes my hand and pulls me toward the family table. Both Dad and Trip look sheepish, and Mom looks lost.

“Nice try,” I say beneath my breath.

“Em,” Trip says.

“We’ll discuss it another time,” I say to cut him off.

Trip nods. I’m afraid I’ve just given him hope where there is none—and never will be any.

Logan

I can’t believe they f**king did that. Of all the lowdown, dirty, underhanded tricks to play… I pull out a chair for Emily so she can sit down and scooch her closer to the table. I sit down beside her. The waiter brings us a modified menu and leaves them in front of us. The dinner has limited choices.

Trip opens his mouth and starts to read the menu out loud.

“Stop it,” Emily snaps.

Trip looks up, his mouth still open, paused on a word. “I was just trying to help. I know how much you hate menus.”

I want to punch him in the f**king face.

“I’ll be fine,” Emily says. She leans over my shoulder and looks down at my menu. “What are you having?” she asks, smiling at me. I know she’s not reading the menu. She never does. She wouldn’t, particularly with all these people watching. She keeps her dyslexia a closely guarded secret. And she will refuse to show weakness, even at a table full of people who already know.