I toss the phone back down into the cupholder. Damn it, Jay. He is ridiculous. He has been at school barely six weeks and is already knee-deep in pussy. Come the fuck on.
"Is something wrong?" She whispers.
"Nothing I can't fix." I sigh.
The rest of the drive consists of small talk and a little flirting. My game is spot on. Her game needs work, but it's not for lack of trying. She is awkward, and I love it.
We pull into the spot, and I get out to open her door. I toss the keys to the valet and place my hand on the small of her back, where my hand fits perfectly. We walk through the doors, and I'm instantly bombarded with guests. I haven't seen some of these people in a while. I try not to seem uninterested as I guide my lady to her seat. Pushing past several people on a mission, I make my way over to the bar. I didn't ask Blake what she wanted to drink. Damn. White wine it is. I wouldn't want her to get anything on that beautiful dress I have been taking off her all night with my eyes.
"Here, beautiful." I set the glass in front of her.
"Thanks." She winks and tips back the glass. The way her lips are softly pouted around the rim of the glass makes me wish they were somewhere else. I take my seat, adjusting my pants before my attraction is known by every damn person in this room.
"Blakely, this is Dr. Baker, his wife Brianna and Dr. Carlson and his girlfriend, Alexa. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Blakely."
Totally not a lie. She is a girl that is a friend.
She gives me a "you better take that back" look.
"I'm sorry, I mean, my wife." I can't help but mess with her. I run my hand over her knee as she kicks me under the table. To my surprise, she doesn't contest and tips her glass back. Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever entertained the thought of referring to someone as my wife.
Everyone finishes their plates, and I can't help but notice her pushing the food around in circles.
"Would you just relax, please?" I kiss her ear softly, and her hair falls back down over it. Her cheeks glow with a pink blush. I sit another glass of wine on the table, and she tosses the whole thing back in one sip. Must be calming her unnecessary nerves.
She excuses herself to the restroom, and my colleagues bombard me with questions about my newfound wife. I am not typically the type to lay it out there on display, so they aren't surprised when their questions are unanswered.
"I don't kiss and tell." I smile.
Blakely returns with the strangest look on her face. What the fuck happened?
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"There was this girl in the bathroom." She waves her hand, dismissing it, "Nevermind."
Damn it.
Before I can question her again, the sound of the speaker floods the room, "The Man of the hour, my friend and Colleague Judson Banks."
"I'm sorry we will talk about it in a few." I kiss her head and make my way up the stairs to the stage.
"Thanks, Paul." I slide in front of the podium and microphone. No matter how many times I do this, I'm still nervous. Public speaking isn't my favorite thing to do.
"Good evening. Thank you all for coming out tonight. As most of you know, I'm Judson Banks. I started this foundation nearly 5 years ago now, and it has grown tremendously. I am so thankful for every last one of you. I host several charity events throughout the year, but this one is particularly special to me."
I pause and take a deep breath. Emotions flood my brain and heart.
"I lost my mom to breast cancer. She was my best friend, but more than that, she was an advocate for Women's health. I'd like to think she would be proud of the foundation and all the funds raised for those affected by breast cancer. In honor of my mother Amy Banks and anyone else who is suffering or recovering, get your dancing shoes on and your checkbooks out. Thank you again, and enjoy your night."
The room erupts with applause, but I can't get down the steps of the stage to Blakely fast enough.
CHAPTER 10
BLAKELY
Judson lost his mom? I have a gigantic lump in my throat. I want to cry for him. I want to hold him and tell him it's going to be alright. Suddenly my pain is reflective. We are more alike than I thought, the same kind of different.
"I'm sorry about that," he whispers to me as he pulls his chair back out.