I stepped into the open living space just as Connie, the stylist I’d used for years, breezed in with two assistants. They were wheeling racks of clothes into the foyer, already setting up with the efficiency I paid for.
“West Brooks,” Connie said with that signature sway of her hips. She was older than me, confident, and always made jokes about how we’d be perfect together. I bantered back occasionally, but never crossed any lines. I didn’t risk what I’d built just to play games with emotions.
Connie had long accepted that I was destined to be a bachelor forever. Always in control. Always professional. So when Blue strolled out of the guest room, rubbing her head and yawning, Connie went right for assumptions.
“You must be West’s niece!” she said cheerfully, extending a hand.
Blue blinked, confused, and slowly shook it, glancing back at me.
“Connie,” I said, walking over and wrapping an arm around Blue’s shoulders, “I said I need a stylist for a woman, but I guess I didn’t specify that Blue is my fiancée.” I looked down at Blue, who was nervously licking her lips, and added, “By this weekend, she’ll be my wife.”
Connie took several steps back until her legs hit the couch and she sat down hard. “You’re getting married?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, squeezing Blue gently. “It happened kinda quick.”
Connie nodded in acceptance, but her expression said otherwise. I didn’t need her to believe it, though. I needed Mr. McConnell to. Connie’s only job was to make sure Blue had what she needed to look the part, and maybe help sell the illusion a little more.
Blue still stood stiff in my arms, unsure of what to do. I rubbed her arm again, hoping to ease her nerves. Eventually,everyone moved on and did what they had to do. Connie worked fast, pulling items and taking quick measurements. I told her time was tight, and she adjusted accordingly as I sat back at the bar and supervised, making sure Connie treated Blue with the respect I expected her to.
Within minutes, Blue had plenty of new wardrobe additions and I took the last bite of my cold breakfast.
“Put those in her closet,” I said, not immediately considering my words.
Connie paused. “Her closet?”
“Her side of the closet,” I corrected. “Eventually, all her stuff will be here, but these will do while we’re still moving her in.”
“S-sure,” Connie muttered, waving to her assistant to follow my instructions.
Then I turned back to Blue, softening my tone just for show. “Blue, baby? You ready to head to the office with me?”
“Sure,” she said, looking every bit the small-town bartender she was. But instead of grabbing her things, she walked over and wrapped her arms around me, making me stiffen at the contact I hadn’t initiated. “What should I wear?” she whispered into my ear.
“For today, what you have on is perfect.”
She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and the same shoes from last night. Simple. Real. Exactly who she was. I didn’t need her to be some glossy puppet version of herself. I’d asked her for help because she appeared to be strong and sharp. When the time came, she’d need to dress up, but I still wanted her to be Blue to her core.
“You sure?” she whispered again.
“Of course.”
She pulled back, snatched a piece of bacon from her plate, shoved it in her mouth, and grinned at me and Connie. “Ready when you are, honey.”
I laughed at her endearment, shook my head, and left Ruby to see Connie out.
When Blue started toward the private elevator we’d used the night before, I caught her hand and redirected her to the front door. “This way, dear.”
“Oh, right,” she said, clearly clueless there even was a front door. But once we exited and crossed the hall to the building’s main elevators, she let out a long, shaky breath. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
“Just keep being yourself and everything will be fine,” I told her. “Let me do the talking when it comes to explaining us at the office.”
“Right,” she nodded, stepping into the elevator. “You talk, I nod.”
Chapter Thirteen
BLUE
“Oh, nice,”I said, pointing at the chandelier hanging in the building’s lobby like a glamorous Christmas ornament. “Look at that,” I added, now motioning to a sprawling mural that shimmered with gold-veined marble. “Is that a?—?”
