“No problem. Your bags are in the back seat.” As if he didn’t know that! “Have a great weekend with your dad. Let me know if you go on any cool adventures without me,” she pretended to pout.
He hesitated like he was about to say something, but changed his mind and said, “Nothing planned.”
He dragged his bags from the back and set them on the passenger seat, still staring at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.Stay cool, damnit.
“Thanks again for visiting.”Stop talking, you immature child.
“I’ve a fundraising charity thing in a few weeks in London. It’s for several nature reserves, including the one my father runs. Go with me.”
Her throat was suddenly as dry as the Atacama Desert. “Formal?”
“Black tie,” he confirmed.
“Shopping for a new ball gown…” she pretended to think, tapping her chin. “I’ll be there.”
Dagr’s frame seemed to lose some of its tenseness at her agreement. “I’ll send you all the information and arrange a private jet to bring you to London.”
“That’s not—” she started to protest.
“It is,” he said in such a serious tone that she felt her cheeks flush.
He took his bags without another word and shut the door, leaving her blinking in bewilderment until her driver’s door opened. He dropped his bags on the pavement and reached in for a chaste embrace.
“Text me the moment you’re home.”
“I will.” What else was there to say?
“Here, try this on,” Gray said, handing her a dress, “while you explain lying to your best friends for months.”
Bébhinn glanced around Gray’s shoulder, where she stood blocking her exit from the changing room that she was currently standing naked in, with the exception of a simple pair of navy cotton briefs.
Her eyes found Blair, who was leaning against the opposite wall, but as soon as she saw Bébhinn looking lifted her hands and signed, “I would not have told anyone.”
Her frown was slight, but Bébhinn felt like shit that she’d not told them about talking to Dagr. How was she supposed to explain that he was only a friend with platonic texts and calls, not benefits? The night they’d met for drinks was the first inkling she’d had that he felt anything other than friendship for her.
Mags shoved her arm past Gray, handing her another dress. “Yeah, spill already.”
Bébhinn pushed the two girls back from the door. “Move back so Blair can follow.” Blair just smiled and rolled her eyes. She was pretty used to what it was like when the four of them were together, and excitement was high. Blair was excellent at reading lips, but she did have to see them.
“How’s this? I find a dress, then we find a pub, then I tell you guys everything, and then you tell me how I’m going to tell Mom that I’m going to London next weekend to see a man she’s never met.”
Once they agreed, they got down to business, and she found a dress quickly. She felt beautiful and couldn’t wait for Dagr to see her in it. Blair found the winning design. The color was a rich champagne with a floor-length maxi hem. The boat neckline rested against her collarbones, with a darted bodice and flowing cap sleeves.
The silk fitted at her waist before skimming her figure until barely draping her strappy-heeled toes. It was elegant and sophisticated in its simple lines. The back was her favorite part. A soft cowl revealed her bare back to her natural waist.
No bra, but thankfully, she wasn’t as busty as her mom and aunts. Her breasts were a perfectly rounded, firm C cup. Her friends assured her the dress was perfect from all angles. She was relieved to have that part of the day dusted.
Bébhinn wasn’t hugely interested in shopping for clothes. Now antiques and homemade household goods, that she could spend hours at. In fact, she’d asked Dagr to make her flight earlier so she could visit a shop that supposedly carried a stunning array of hand-painted wallpaper.
She wanted to surprise her mother with a roll since she was slowly redecorating her flat, and if it wasn’t to her taste, her mom would have many clients who would want it. Either way, she would be happy to give her a gift for no other reason than that she loved her.
Shopping bags hanging from the back of her high barstool chair and drinks ordered, there was nothing left to do except explain Dagr to her friends.
Once she started, the telling became easier. From their first meeting in the cave and how she thought it was her brother, to three weeks ago when she felt like he might want more than friendship.
She took a sip of Three Wolves, which the pub carried, much to her delight, and sat back, satisfied that her friends would be as pleased about Dagr as she was.
“Wait,” Gray started, sounding confused, “you’ve never even kissed the man?”
