He glowered harder at my bubbliness. “Are you acting right now? No one is this happy.”
“Then you must surround yourself with a lot of miserable people.”
He turned more fully toward me and the breeze caught his scent. Something citrusy with a hint of spicy earthiness. He smelled delicious. And very expensive. Who was he to Philippa Whitman? He wasn’t her husband. She’d already told me her husband couldn’t make their daughter’s birthday party because he was on a business trip. “How old are you?”
His question took me aback. “Why?”
“Because you look old enough to know better than to goad a man who is clearly in a foul mood and certainly old enough to have moved on to more appropriate career paths by now. Disney princessing is for college students and failing college graduates.”
Oh wow. I felt my attraction to him wilt rapidly. Refusing to let him see that his words bothered me, I tutted. “Oh, come on, surely you’re old enough to know that we’re responsible for our own dark moods and that expecting people, least of all a stranger, to rearrange their mood to accommodate yours is the height of arrogance and self-indulgence. It’s the expectation of a toddler.”
His lips might have pressed tightly together, but his eyes flared with surprise.
Before he could speak, I continued, “And many college students find it difficult to secure a job once they graduate, so I really don’t think it’s nice to speak of them in that tone.” I grinned at him. “But since you’re in a bad mood, I won’t hold it against you. As for me, I’m genuinely happy in life. I don’t know if many people can say the same, so I feel pretty awesome about the fact that I’m standing here rocking a Merida costume and a Scottish accent. I mean, of the two of us, which of us is in a good mood?”
“A good mood?” He pushed off the balcony railing and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “This isn’t a good mood. This is passive aggressiveness. No one is in this good a mood after someone disparages their ‘career.’ ”
He air-quoted the word “career” and I couldn’t help it. My smile died.
Something flickered in his countenance as he studied me, but, thankfully, before I lost my grip on my usually easily accessed “kill ’em with kindness” attitude, a door opened behind us.
Philippa Whitman appeared. She took in the sight of me with the stranger and her expression grew puzzled. “Star, there you are. The children will be ready for you in five minutes. Why don’t you go back inside and grab a quick bite to eat before then?”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
Giving her a congenial nod, I turned from the stranger as Philippa stepped away from the door to let me pass.
The balcony door, however, didn’t shut all the way over and I heard the stranger say, “Pippa, leave me alone and let me hide out here, please.” He might have used the word “please,” but his tone was demanding. It was not a request.
And he called her Pippa.
Was he her brother?
“Rafe, this is your niece’s birthday party. You can’t stand out here and brood.”
So yeah, he was her brother. They looked nothing alike.
“Exactly. This is my niece’s birthday party. Not an opportunity for you and my mother to foist every eligible woman in Manhattan on me, but, frankly, it feels like more effort is being put into that than Charmaine’s party. A Disney princess, Pip? Really?”
“Your niece is eight years old and loves that movie, and Star came highly recommended.”
“Star? That can’t be her real name.”
I scowled at the almost-closed balcony door. It was so!
“You seem awfully interested in my child’s entertainer . . . and it’s bad enough your brother can’t even attend his own daughter’s birthday party. I really don’t need her uncle acting like he’d rather be anywhere but here.”
Ah. He was her brother-in-law. Rafe Whitman.
Damn. That name suited him to a T.
There was a moment of silence, and then, “I’m sorry.”
My eyes widened at his quiet apology.
“I had a terrible night in surgery last night and I’m just not in the mood for you to play matchmaker. Or to listen to that awful Scottish accent.”
Moi? I pointed to myself. He needed to back off my awesome brogue.
“I think she’s rather good,” Philippa replied.
Thank you!
“But I’m sorry you had an awful night in surgery.”
Was he a doctor, then?
That made sense.
Arrogance in abundance.
Though my easily forgiving side suddenly felt bad for him. He’d had a worse night than most people ever could at their job and then he’d come here only for his family to play matchmaker all afternoon. No wonder he was in a terrible mood. No one enjoyed being cornered. Not that that entirely excused his behavior, but I reminded myself that every single one of us had off days and acted out.
How was it a surgeon could make it to his niece’s birthday party but her father couldn’t?
“I’ll try not to foist any more women on you today.”
“Will you speak to my mother too?”
“Yes, I will. But, Rafe, you’re going to have to settle down at some point. Your mother and I are just worried you’ll end up alone.”
“What does it matter if I’m happy? Happy and alone works for me.”
I could totally understand that. Society needed to back off with all the trying to make people fit into their neat little boxes. That was the cause of so much unhappiness if you asked me.
“That would be fine if I thought for a minute you were actually happy. But the permanent scowl you wear suggests otherwise. Now, please try to be a little nicer to everyone in there.”
“Including the woman who is too old to be dressed as a Disney princess?”
“Hush, Rafe. Don’t be unkind.”
I hurried away from the balcony door so they wouldn’t realize I’d been eavesdropping. I hadn’t meant to. Normally, I could not care less about anyone’s private business. It was private for a reason, right? Truthfully, I did not understand my fascination with Rafe Whitman and, considering his disdain for me (whether it was real or driven by his awful mood), I was determined to erase that fascination from my brain and all my lady parts.
It was easy enough to do because after five minutes of being in the room, women surrounded Rafe again. This time, he really did appear like a cornered animal, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring. I felt a little bad for him despite his shitty attitude earlier. But when I looked over a few minutes later, he was gone, having, I assumed, made his escape.