I head into the bathroom and slip into the dress. I barely recognize the woman in the mirror, who looks back at me with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. A woman who seems as if she might actually belong at a fancy cocktail party on the arm of a professional athlete.
I emerge and Tabitha smiles. “You look beautiful,” she says. “And brave. And ready for whatever tonight brings.”
I take a deep breath, thinking about Hays’s protective deflection during the press conference. Maybe, jumping into the ocean isn’t so scary when you trust the person swimming beside you to help you find your way back to shore.
“Okay,” I say, reaching for the lipstick. “Think this is the right shade?”
Chapter nineteen
Hays
The moment Leah steps out of the town car at the country club, every coherent thought in my head evaporates. Her dark green dress hugs her curves in all the right places. Her hair falls in soft waves over one shoulder, and when she looks up at me with a smile that’s slightly nervous but trying to hide it, I’m completely done for.
The color is perfect on her, bringing out the warmth in her skin and making her dark eyes look almost luminous. For a split second, I can’t help but think how perfectly the engagement ring would complement this look, but I bite back the urge to mention it. The ball’s in her court now, and I’m practicing patience, even if it’s killing me.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe, unable to stop myself from drinking in every detail. “You are absolutely stunning.”
A blush creeps up her neck, but she smiles as she clutches a matching small purse. “Thank you.” She brushes a hand down her dress. “I’ve never owned anything this expensive in my life.”
“Worth every penny to see you in it.” I offer her my arm, my heart hammering as she slips her hand through the crook of my elbow.
Her gaze travels over my navy suit and tie, and her eyes darken. “You clean up pretty well yourself. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in anything but polos. Or that T-shirt the other night.”
“That T-shirt looked better on you. But I’d wear a suit every day if you promise to look at me like that again.”
She fights a smile, while I add, “Though I have to warn you, I’m going to have a hell of a time concentrating on anything with you at my side tonight.”
She clicks her tongue. “And here you were telling reporters I’m not a distraction.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
But she just shoots me a sidelong glance. “This is a professional event for you, I know.”
“Professional went out the window the second you agreed to be my date.” I lean down to whisper against her ear, breathing in that intoxicating floral scent. “You ready for this circus?”
She takes a deep breath, her grip tightening on my arm. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
There’s my girl.
As we enter the ballroom, I try to see the event from Leah’s eyes. String lights twinkle overhead, crisscrossing the ballroom ceiling. Elegant floral arrangements fill every corner, and the floor-to-ceiling windows showcase a perfect view of the harbor. Sponsors’ logos are displayed tastefully throughout, and servers weave through the A-list crowd with champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
But within seconds, I feel the energy shift. Conversations pause midsentence as heads turn our way. Camera phones appear out of nowhere, and I practically hear social media posts being composed in real-time.
Leah’s steps falter, but I cover her hand with mine and lean in. “I’ve got you,” I murmur. “Just stay close to me.”
She nods, straightening her shoulders with a determination that makes my chest swell. This woman has no idea how magnificent she is.
“Rum and Coke?” I offer, steering us toward the bar.
“Might need to make that a double.”
I smile down at her, then catch the bartender’s attention and place the order. “That bottle of champagne is itching to be nabbed,” I whisper, nodding toward an open bottle resting in an ice bucket behind the bar.
Her laugh is genuine, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “You’re the worst.”
“Hays!” A familiar voice booms across the room, and I turn to see Emmitt making his way toward us, trademark grin splitting his face. “There’s the man of the hour.”
“Emmitt.” I clasp his hand in a firm shake, genuinely glad to see him. “You recover from that six-hour death march yet?”
