Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Maybe. But then he says something arrogant, and all that dreaminess washes down the drain.”
Or, in my case, made blood travel to my face and sometimes too far south. And no good would come of that.
“Just enjoy yourself, despite Mr. Crabby Pants.”
“I’ll try.”
Soon enough I was in the car Rowan had ordered for me and on my way to the ballroom in a swanky Midtown hotel. I felt like Prince Charming being escorted to an important event.
Would my tux turn into a pumpkin at midnight?
7
Pulling up to the hotel, I noticed the red carpet and the rope keeping the paparazzi at bay. But I was a nobody, so when I stepped out, I was able to slip inside undetected. Well, mostly. I tripped over my own two feet in the shoes that were beginning to pinch my toes before recovering enough to not entirely lose my dignity.
Once inside, it was easy to spot Rowan with his perfect posture and stunning features. There were lots of gowns and tuxedos, some ill-fitting, which I could honestly say I would’ve never noticed before meeting Rowan Abernathy. But my eye was immediately drawn to how the fabric hung on various points on the body, like near the wrists, and I hated that the slightest miscalculation bothered me now.
He’d clearly cursed me.
My gaze slid lazily from the top of Rowan’s perfectly styled hair down to his wingtip shoes, and I couldn’t find anything out of place. Figured. But that was also owed to the designer himself. The idea that he could fit our different body types perfectly was some strange magic.
My breath turned a bit shallow as I moved in his direction, which was probably only my nerves. His hand motioned dramatically as he spoke to a small group of men and women hanging on his every word. Likely, the topic of conversation was the world of fashion, which I’d have tuned out by now.
When he turned and met my gaze, he seemed a bit taken aback. “Oh, there you are. Late as usual, but you certainly clean up nice.”
I rolled my eyes as a little thrill shot through me that he thought I looked good.
“You’re clearly always early.” I stepped closer, glad when his audience moved on to another topic. I didn’t like being the center of attention. “But thanks for the compliment. You look amazing.”
“I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Of course I do. Lauren can do no wrong.”
“Can’t you ever just…? Never mind.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Just what?”
“Just take a compliment.” I ground my teeth. “Say thank you. Have a normal back-and-forth conversation.”
“Normal is overrated.”
“Okay, whatever.” I huffed out a breath. “Pretend I never said anything.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the compliment. Your tux also fits you very well. You even got the bow tie mostly right.”
His fingers reached out to straighten each end like he did with his clients, and it made my skin tingle.
“I can thank Casey for that, and wikiHow.” My fingers gripped my lapel. “I do feel a bit…special.”
He arched a brow. “I thought clothing didn’t matter or make much sense.”
I bit my lip and avoided his gaze. “Well, maybe I can concede a little that expensive fabric and construction make a difference.”
He pumped his fist, which made him look like a teenager. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”
“Ughhh, stop it right now. Just…introduce me to your snooty friends and let me pretend I actually care about what they’re saying.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Snooty friends who pay a pretty penny for a good cause.”
I shrugged, conceding his point.
Following him around to different groups of socialites and engaging in small talk just about killed me. I had nothing in common with most of these people, but I kept reminding myself that it was a charity event and an important cause, so I’d have to suck it up. But Rowan was also surprisingly different in public, at least toward me.
“Have you tried that restaurant yet?” he asked, including me in a conversation on dining, knowing full well I could never afford it nor dare step inside.
“Not yet,” I replied, glad I wasn’t putting my foot in my mouth or spouting nonsense, and they thankfully moved on. In fact, I was pretty proud of myself for remaining composed and acting interested in the conversation. He never talked down to me or made me feel excluded, which I appreciated. Maybe his father had taught him well. Or his mother.
Was she even around? So many questions.
I glanced over my shoulder to the bar, hoping for an escape. “How about I get us another drink?”
“Sounds good. I’ll take—”
“A prosecco because it’s similar to champagne and you like looking fancy?”
“I am fancy,” he replied, then nudged my shoulder. “I also like the bubbles.”
He’d loosened up a bit and sounded more playful, which was humorous. If that was the case, I’d fill his glass the rest of the night.