Page 8 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Thank you. That was one of my favorite projects."

"I could tell. The way you honored the original architecture while modernizing—it was masterful. I've been thinking about redoing our apartment in the city. Do you have a card?"

I reach into my clutch, pull out one of the simple cream cardstock cards embossed with "Winter Hayes Design" and my contact information. She takes it, examining it with genuine interest.

"I'll call your office next week," she says. "I'd love to discuss possibilities."

"I look forward to it."

She drifts away, and I feel marginally more human. This is what I'm good at—design, creation, building something beautiful and functional from empty space. Not this, not performing at garden parties where my worth is measured by my proximity to a Sterling.

My phone buzzes again. I glance down, expecting Kate or Amy.

It's Rowan.

Rowan: Where are you?

I look across the lawn. He's scanning the crowd, phone in hand, clearly looking for me.

Winter: Rose garden. Near the quartet.

Rowan: Stay there. Coming to you.

I watch him extract himself from his conversation, making his apologies with that easy charm that probably comes from a lifetime of knowing he matters. He weaves through the crowd, phone in hand, glancing at it every few steps.

When he reaches me, his hand immediately finds my waist.

"There you are."

"You told me to mingle."

"I know. But people are starting to ask where you went." He pulls me closer, his cologne—something expensive and woody that I used to love—filling my space.

"How's it going? Mother cornered you yet?"

"Already done. Got the marriage question."

He grimaces. "She ask you or tell you?"

"With Diane, is there a difference?"

That gets a laugh out of him—genuine, surprised. For a moment, he looks like the man I met two years ago, the one who made me laugh at a stuffy gala and asked for my number with enough charm to make me say yes.

"Fair point." His phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns slightly, types something.

"Sorry. This deal is heating up and my dad wants me on top of every detail."

"It's fine."

"You sure?" He looks at me, really looks at me, which is rare enough that I almost flinch.

"You're not bored?"

"I'm fine," I say again. "It's a beautiful party."

"It is." He glances around, his arm still around my waist but his attention already drifting.

"I should probably get back to Davidson. But stay close, okay? Conrad’s going to make the announcement soon and he'll want us together for that."