She smiled, more relaxed than before. “Have a good evening.”
He watched her walk away. Then he realized what he’d agreed to. Yikes. Pineapple in a pear tree didn’t begin to describe how out of his element he would be. And she wanted him to bring a plus-one? He didn’t have any plus-ones in his life...
But he did have Britt.
He shook his head. “No,” he mumbled, and went back to finishing the Bentley, this time sans the music. He couldn’t ask her to go with him. His inner introvert was already balking at the idea of spending an evening with a bunch of people he didn’t know and had nothing in common with. No way would she be able to handle it.
Then he realized there would mostly likely be alcohol there of some kind. Apprehension kicked in. He’d been sober for years, but every day he craved a drink. By going to his boss’s party, he would be putting himself in an uncomfortable situation, surrounded by his coping mechanism of choice.
Daniel stopped waxing and measured his options. He could wait a few days and back out of the invitation, saying he had a prior commitment. Which would mean he’d have to lie to Lila, something he didn’t want to do. Like Arthur, she had extended kindness and trust beyond his job description. He didn’t want to do or say anything to violate it.
He could suck it up and attend the party, ignore the alcohol, and try to enjoy himself. That was the mature, adult thing to do. And it’s what he would do.
Then Britt came back to mind. Maybe he could convince her to go. Not because he needed a crutch, but it was always helpful to have someone to keep him accountable. Going to the party could be beneficial to her too. At the very least she’d get to see the Picketts’ art collection. It was small, but from what he could tell by the way the cleaning staff carefully dealt with the paintings, they were valuable. He and Britt could put in an appearance, say hello, and then leave. Bonus—he’d get to spend more time with his daughter.
Daniel finished waxing the car, letting his mind mull over whether to invite Britt or not. After he was done, he put everything away and gave the garage a quick sweep. It was time to pickup Arthur, and while he hated dealing with Dallas traffic, it was a joy to drive the Bentley.
As he headed downtown, he still hadn’t decided if he should ask Britt, but he had some time to figure it out. And find a cheaper place to rent a tuxedo. He blew out a breath. Whether Britt came or not, he was sure it would be an interesting night.
***
Lights?Check.
Sound?Check.
Script?Check.
Britt started to turn on her camera, then stopped when she caught her reflection on the computer monitor. Instead of cringing like she normally did, she smiled. Today she’d put her hair up in a ponytail with a pastel tie-dyed scrunchy and matching cap-sleeved T-shirt. Three weeks ago, she’d decided to do a tie-dye tutorial, and the shirt and scrunchy had been two of her test subjects. She’d ended up dying twelve items, including a twin bedsheet, and didn’t like any of the results other than what she was wearing, so she scrapped the video. Maybe she’d attempt tie-dyeing another day.
But her dyeing disaster wasn’t what she was thinking about as she looked at her reflection. She couldn’t see her facial features, only outlines and shadows. Four words came to mind.Hunter thinks I’m cute.She could pinch herself. No guy had ever called her cute. The only person who had ever called her that was her mother, and she’d stopped once Britt reached adulthood.
She continued to smile, leaning her chin on the curve of her hand. He also said she was adorable, and that had blown her mind too. But not as much as when he told her she was fun. She’d neverthought of herself as fun, and certainly had never heard anyone describe her that way. And Hunter Pickett, a funny, considerate, even-keeled guy insisted she was. Oh, and then there was the whole cover-model gorgeous thing he had going on.Sigh.
Her phone rang. She looked at the screen and smiled.Hunter.She quickly answered it. “Hi,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
“Hey.”
His deep voice made her toes curl and grip the bright-orange shag rug underneath her desk. Their kiss—more accurately, kisses—from yesterday flashed in her mind, as they had since the moment he’d sweetly pressed his lips against hers. Softly, tenderly...double sigh.
“I’m on my way to work but...”
A shot of alarm went through her. “But what?”
“This is going to sound corny.” The sound of a door closing came through the receiver. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
She almost melted in her seat. “You could just listen to one of my videos.”
“It’s not the same, not by a long shot.” Another pause. “Corny, right?”
“Wrong. It’s not corny at all.”
“Oh, good. I thought I’d have to turn in my cool card for that one.”
Never. He was the coolest guy she knew, although that admittedly was a small pool of contestants.
“I also wondered if we could interrupt our regularly scheduled week and have lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “I know it’s not Monday—”
“What time?”
