Harlon hung up as if he hadn’t even waited for the other person to say goodbye.
“Sorry, that was Milton. He was wanting to know if you’d drawn any more pictures or if we’d found Suzie,” he said, pocketing his phone.
“Not a problem,” I said. “It’s nice you have friends that care.”
I checked my clutch once more. “If you’d like, I can carry your ID, and you won’t need the purse.”
I opened it to show him I had my ID, money, lipstick, and I pulled out the bear spray I’d found on his dresser. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
He chuckled. “Yep, I’m a thief. I picked it up in the woods and packed it in my bag when I left.”
“You wanted a keepsake?” I asked.
“Memories to show our grandkids,” he answered.
“You’re assuming I’ll still like you years from now.”
“I’ll grow on you,” he said as he called the elevator.
We rode down, and I felt like that girl in every sappy movie, getting dressed up to go out on a date with Mr. Unattainable. My stomach twisted, sending the butterflies into flight. It felt ten degrees warmer standing next to him in the close quarters. Even I couldn’t explain how he made me feel.
The elevator dinged, and I stepped out into the coolness of the garage. Most garages I would assume smelt like gas and oil. Not Harlon’s. Even his garage smelled like it cost a fortune.
Dean was waiting by the limo.
“What, no Town Car?”
“Not tonight,” he whispered. “The limo is the perfect mode of transportation. You made promises for once this was over.”
Heat claimed my cheeks.
The ride to the mansion on the outskirts of town took an hour. Not that I minded. I got to know Harlon a bit better. He eventually asked my favorite color and about my sisters. He was trying to get to know me, but still, being in New York unsettled me, unlike being with him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should leave.
I was comfortable in my hometown. I’d never needed a reason to leave.
Dean opened the door, and we both stepped out.
Stars twinkled in the night sky. Not a cloud in sight. Men and women dressed in ball gowns and tuxedos headed toward the front door as limos continued dropping people off behind us and then moving, making room for more of New York’s elite.
“Wow,” I whispered. The place was bigger than Manny’s. It was the size of a hotel, several stories high with acres and acres of land. “This is beautiful.”
“My mom helped pick out this venue for the first ball. We’ve been having it at the same place ever since,” he said and took my hand, wrapping it around his elbow as he led me up the ornate stairs.
Men in tuxedos greeted us at the door. The Italian tile was as impressive as the ornate stone fixtures and chandeliers.
A reservation desk stood across the lobby. Staircases led up to the next floor, even though there were elevators that did the same thing. A bar stood to the left, where several party attendees had already claimed tables and drinks.
Harlon led the way down the corridor into a ballroom. I paused inside the door. These decorations caught me off guard, not because of the expense or design but because of the dogs sitting on podiums around the room. Sitting at attention with trainers by their side.
“Dogs?”
“It’s kind of our business,” Harlon said. “We like to introduce them to clients while at the party. It helps if they get a first-hand look at how the dogs behave.”
“Unless someone knows German,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. He was showing off their talents, and all I could think of was the damage they could inflict.
