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“Shut up and zip me,” she commands over her shoulder.
“You’re forgetting something.”
“Please, Blake.”
She laughs at me when I whimper in response, then I carefully place my hands on her back and tug on the zipper. My eyes skim over her dress, which consists of two pieces, a long, fitted skirt and matching cropped top, its deep green color perfectly complementing her soft, creamy skin. Even her short nails are painted to match.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, dropping her hair and causing the scent to waft up at the same time she turns and lets her hands fall at her sides. “How do I look?”
I’m struck dumb for a few seconds, fumbling for words with my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, especially with her skirt hugging her curves just right. Then she does a half-turn, the movement exposing her waist and lower back and my mouth waters.
“I … uh, you look … wow,” I breathe, and she blushes.
“I still need to touch up my makeup,” she says, although I can tell she’s pleased with my reaction.
I blink a few times, trying to recoup, but she reaches up to fasten the last couple of buttons on my shirt, and my stomach flutters. I swallow hard. “You’re stunning, Loren,” I finally manage.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replies, laying her palms over my chest and smiling up at me. “Looks like I’ll need to get my warpaint just right so I can fend off the competition.”
I force out an embarrassingly shaky breath as I reach down to cup my hands around her hips. “Don’t worry. I won’t notice any of them. In fact, we don’t even have to go downstairs if you’d rather stay in,” I tell her, my eyes glued to her mouth. “I wouldn’t even make you ask nicely.”
She inhales sharply, and I find myself leaning down to her, unable to help the way I’m drawn in closer. But she lowers her chin just before our lips meet and pushes off my chest to take a step back.
“Come on, Gus-Gus. I’d hate for you to waste all of your good lines on me. I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing, either.” Her tone isn’t as convincing as she thinks, though.
I turn to look for my tie. “Right. You want me to save it for someone who actually likes it when I flirt with her,” I mumble under my breath. But it’s too late, because she’s already scurried away to finish getting ready.
I sigh as I slip on my shoes and adjust my tie in the mirror, and Loren emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, sporting cherry red lipstick and a pair of shoes tall enough to put her at an average height.
“Gah, these were a terrible idea.” She takes a few awkward steps forward, growls, and grabs her bag before plopping down to kick off her shoes and toss them across the room. “You’re going to have to settle for my regular heels. I just can’t manage the stilettos, despite the way other women have mastered the art.”
I walk over and kneel in front of her, taking the shorter heels and sliding them onto her feet. When I glance up, she’s biting her lip. “Stop comparing yourself to them,” I demand.
She nods softly, and I continue buckling her shoe at the ankle. “Is this tight enough?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she whispers, her voice gravelly.
I brush my thumb over her ankle tattoo as I finish with the second clasp. Then I stand and pull her up to meet me.
“Loren?”
“Hmm?”
“Promise me you’ll be yourself tonight? I don’t want you to feel pressured to act a certain way or think you need to fit in with these people. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve never fit in with most of them either. It’s why I selfishly asked you to come with me, because I knew it’d be the only way I’d enjoy myself.”
She stares at me intently. “You’re really taking the weird girl to the prom, then?”
“Yes. Because I really, really like weird.” I grin and hold out my elbow, and she smiles back as she laces her arm through.
We venture downstairs to the ballroom, which has just started to fill up, and Loren and I pose for a few photos in front of a heavily decorated backdrop. Then I take her over to the table reserved for my law office and introduce her to my partners and their wives.
“This is my girlfriend, Loren,” I declare proudly, watching for her reaction. She seems pretty collected as she shakes hands with each of them, immediately making everyone laugh with her witty comebacks to their teasing.
“I would have worn higher heels, but Blake’s ego is a little too fragile for that,” she replies smoothly when Mr. Mark makes a short joke that sends a jolt of anger through me at first.
I stifle a smile and pull out her chair. “Not to mention, the view’s better from up here,” I mutter over her shoulder when I slide her chair forward, and she turns to glare at me.
“The famous Ms. Reed, finally,” I hear Jada calling out as she approaches. She glances at me knowingly when Loren stands, probably looking for evidence of a baby bump since I finally told her about the twins this week. She squealed so loudly that I had to ask her to pipe down before the others came in to check on her.
