I didn’t really think, I just let my hand slide down his arm to hold his hand, helping him back onto his feet.
“Thank you,” I told him, feeling like he was too close. Too attractive. Too tempting.
And, God, he smelled good.
“All set?” he asked, taking a careful, deliberate step backward.
“I, ah, yes. No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Which is it?”
“I forgot my clutch,” I said, turning and making my way to my bedroom. Where I paused to take a few slow, deep breaths before grabbing my bag and heading back out. “Okay. Now I’m all set,” I said, giving him a bit of a forced smile as I moved toward the door.
There was a bit of strained silence between us on the way down and ride across town.
It was in the backseat of that car, though, that I saw something I’d missed before.
Brock’s sleeve slid upward.
And there was a watch I hadn’t seen earlier.
Not just any watch, either.
Nope.
A Patek Phillippe.
If I wasn’t mistaken, with the rose, red, and pink gold mixed with the blue leather band and partially blue face, it was a Ulysse Nardin.
That was easily over thirty thousand for that watch.
And while a part of me respected the casual way he didn’t even try to put it on display, I couldn’t seem to help the surge of jealousy that grew inside of me at the idea of one of his well-to-do ladies buying it for him.
“Have you ever run into a man named Fenway Arlington?”
“Is it possible not to run into Fenway?” I asked, smiling at the last memory I had of the man. Spinning a former First Lady around on the dance floor with a rose between his teeth. To this day, no one knew where he’d gotten the rose since the venue hadn’t had any.
“Fenway has required extensive… assistance. And he typically turns to a fixer agency. But every once in a while, he comes to us for help. The watch was a gift for helping him track down a random man on the streets of Spain to ask him what cologne he was wearing.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, smiling.
“You’ve met Fenway.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. And the Fenway I knew would absolutely be that absurd. “Here we go,” I said, looking out the window at the long building with stately old pillars.
People were milling around on the steps, greeting one another, putting off going inside for whatever reason.
“Just keep reminding yourself about French fries,” Brock told me as he slid out of the car, then dipped down and held a hand out toward me. The perfect gentleman.
I’d never taken a date to the Falkes Benefit.
Cam didn’t count.
And all other years, I went alone, all the while telling myself it was a power move to go to such an event without someone else. It screamed confidence, since I could clearly bring someone if I wanted to.
I was a mix of nervous and excited about actually having company, someone to talk to, to share jokes and observations with, someone to discuss the event with afterward.
“Miranda!” a voice called almost as soon as I’d exited the car.