No wonder she’d visited Trollop Tailoring earlier in the week. Elderly Mrs. Bertens deserved a damn medal for her work on the outfit.
The flat soles of Molly’s strappy metallic sandals slapped against the final few steps. Then she was there, right in front of him, and his thoughts leapt to middle-school social studies and its Greek mythology unit. For the first time, he wondered whether—inanother universe—Medusa had killed men stone-dead like this. Not through snake-haired hideousness. Because of literally petrifying beauty.
He was too afraid to touch her. Didn’t want to ruin anything so goddamn perfect.
While he stood there frozen, dry-mouthed, and so fucking in love he might actually die from it, she looked him up and down with clear approval.
“Hey, we match.” The observation sounded pleased. “Nice tux, Karl. I genuinely can’t believe Athena and Matthew got you into a bow tie.” Her fingers skimmed his jaw. “You even trimmed your beard and put on shiny Oxfords. Wowza.”
Anything for you, his dazed, dazzled brain silently informed her.
Without a word, he offered her the bouquet he’d hidden behind his back. Ivory calla lilies, bundled together with an eggplant-purple silk ribbon. Elegant. Reserved. Lovely. Just like her.
The corsage and boutonniere followed the reunion’s stupid under-the-sea theme. But since she wouldn’t be taking this bouquet to the dance, he’d figured he could get her some flowers that actually seemed more her style.
“Oh my goodness, I love these so much!” she exclaimed immediately, and his shoulders loosened. “They’re stunning, Karl. Thank you.” Smiling happily, she accepted the flowers. Cradled them in her arms and studied them carefully. Caressed a silky petal with a featherlight touch. “Hold on. Before we go, let me get the arrangement in water.”
For a minute, she was bustling around the tiny kitchen, searching for a suitable vessel, then filling a glass pitcher with water and arranging the stems artfully inside. Then she turned back to him and stepped close enough to radiate heat.
He still couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
“For a rental tux, this fits remarkably well.” She smoothed a hand down his sleeve. “I’m beyond impressed. You’re not just handsome in formal wear, Karl Andrew Dean. You’redashing.”
At that, his chest strained the small, weird studs fastening his shirt. Yet another accessory the rental place had recommended and charged him for, with Athena’s enthusiastic support.
“Th—” He had to clear his throat. Shake himself a little. “Thanks. You... that suit...”
The way Molly looked tonight? Woman deserved a poet to explain how gorgeous she was. Instead, she had an inarticulate asshole who spent his weekdays in Crocs and a beard net.
Wasn’t fair to her. She deserved better.
But he could only do his best, right?
“People make statues of women like you,” he told her, voice raw with honesty. “Armies go to war. Men like me wait their whole lives for a single glimpse of something as ridiculously fucking beautiful as you are right now.”
She stilled. Stared up at him for a minute while he tried not to die of sheer embarrassment and emotional overexposure.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Those blue eyes of hers, suddenly bright with tears, damn near slayed him. But if he held her, no way he wouldn’t wrinkle her outfit or otherwise screw up all her prep work, so...
“Just the simple truth. Shouldn’t make you cry.” Gently, he tugged at a strand of her hair, trying like hell not to muss it. “Don’t make me dry you off with my tuxedo jacket, Dearborn. Hefty security deposit. Plus, this is your moment of triumph, remember?”
She sniffed, then offered him a shaky smile. “Ah, yes. My long-desired opportunity to confront all those extremely stereotypicalmean girls and bullies whose opinion meant so very much to me in high school.”
“That’s the one,” he confirmed.
She blinked back the last of her tears, and his incipient panic melted away.
“I see my flowers.” Her head tipped toward the pitcher. “I see the limo outside. I see my sexy-bad-boy, hometown-hero date in front of me.” She laid her palm on his chest, got up on her tiptoes, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, then wiped away any gloss residue with the side of her thumb. “I think we’re ready to go.”
Even that tiny bit of contact? He’d had orgasms that didn’t feel as goddamn good.
“More crap inside the limo.” He hitched a thumb toward the window, which showed the fancy-ass car parked by the sidewalk, its uniformed driver patiently waiting nearby. “Everything else on our list.”
She’d offered on multiple occasions to pay for half the expenses—and received only an incredulous glare in response every damn time. In the end, thank fuck, she’d dropped the subject and let him take care of everything. Including the final items, put in place only minutes ago.
Cream-colored and aqua rose petals were now strewn evenly across the rear limo seats. He’d seen to that himself. Then he and Matthew had rested their corsages and boutonnieres on a lacquered tray back there, ready to be fastened in place as the four of them traveled to the Harlot’s Bay High gym.
