Page 80 of Tyson
"You will?"
She held up the necklace, studying how the light caught the silver. "If it helps you focus on having fun instead of spending the whole party watching for threats, then yes." She turned, lifting her hair. "Put it on me?"
My hands shook slightly as I fastened the clasp. The compass rose settled perfectly in the hollow of her throat, innocuous and pretty. Nobody would guess it could broadcast her location within three feet, that it had a panic button built into the back, that it was waterproof and shockproof.
"How does it look?" She turned to face me, fingers touching the pendant.
"Beautiful," I said, but I wasn't looking at the necklace. "How'd I get so lucky?"
"Well, first I insulted your organizational system, called you a control freak, refused to follow directions—"
I kissed her to stop the litany, pouring everything I felt into the contact. When we broke apart, she was breathless and smiling.
"I love you," she whispered against my lips. "Even if you are turning me into a walking security system."
My phone buzzed before I could respond. Duke's name on the screen made my blood run cold.
Dress shopping today. It’s going to be a whole thing. Mia insists you and your 'friend' meet us there.
The quotes around 'friend' hit like a punch to the gut. I read it twice, my mind racing through possibilities. Did he know? Was he testing me? Duke didn't do anything without purpose, and those quotation marks were deliberate as a knife between the ribs.
"What's wrong?" Lena read my expression with uncanny accuracy. "You just went from happy to DefCon 2."
I showed her the text. She studied it, biting her lip. "The quotes could mean anything. Maybe Mia told him we're friends and he's just being... Duke-ish?"
"Duke doesn't do casual punctuation," I said grimly. "Everything has meaning."
"So we play it cool." She handed my phone back, already strategizing. "I'm just your friend who you happen to have to stay with at the moment. We maintain appropriate distance, don't give anything away."
"Right." I pulled her against me, needing the contact before we had to pretend. "Appropriate distance. No problem."
She laughed, but it was strained. "We're so screwed."
Looking down at her—purple hair mussed from sleep, wearing my t-shirt, tracker necklace glinting at her throat—I had to agree. Keeping my hands off her in public would be like tryingnot to breathe. But Duke's text was a warning shot, intentional or not.
Theboutiquewaspurechaos—an explosion of tulle, satin, and feminine energy that made my teeth itch.
This wasnotmy scene.
Mia commanded the center of the storm, directing her bridesmaids with the efficiency of a general, while Lena hung back near the dressing rooms, looking amused by the whole production. Duke and I had positioned ourselves by the entrance like the world's most overqualified bouncers, trying to look like we belonged in this world of wedding prep.
"Didn't know personal security extended to dress shopping," Duke commented casually, eyes tracking the room with the same tactical assessment I was doing. Old habits—catalog exits, identify threats, maintain strategic positioning.
"Just being thorough," I replied, trying not to watch Lena disappear behind a curtain with an armload of purple fabric. "Mia requested extra coverage for all wedding events."
"Thorough," Duke repeated, the word heavy with implication. "That what we're calling it?"
Before I could respond, Lena emerged from the dressing room, and every thought in my head evaporated. The dress was deep purple, hitting mid-thigh, with some kind of complicated strappy situation across the back that made my mouth go dry. She did a little spin for Mia's approval, and I had to lock my knees to stay upright.
"That's the one!" one of the other bridesmaids squealed. "You look hot!"
Hot was an understatement. The purple made her skin glow, and the cut of the dress showed off legs that had been wrappedaround me just hours ago. I forced myself to look away, catching Duke watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Definitely a contender," Lena said, studying herself in the three-way mirror. That's when the suit approached. Had to be from a different wedding party.
He was everything I wasn't—clean-cut, probably worked in one of the downtown office buildings, shoes that cost more than most people's rent. The kind of guy who saw a beautiful woman and assumed his money gave him the right to her attention.
"Excuse me, but you're absolutely stunning." His opener was as unoriginal as his tan. "Could I buy you coffee? Maybe dinner?"
