…a barrier between me and the rest of the world.
Without them, I feel exposed.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “They’re kind of like a safety blanket, I guess.”
Chantal’s expression softens with sympathy. “Girl, you don’t have to explain. They’re cute anyway. Gives you that whole sexy librarian vibe.”
“The glasses can’t hide how good you look,” Monique adds. “Trust me.”
There’s a sharp tap on the bathroom door.
“Chantal,” comes Killian’s gruff voice. “What’ve you done with my guest? You better not’ve lost her.”
The bubbly woman doing my makeup giggles. “Chill, Kill. She’s not lost. She’s right here!”
She opens the door and nudges me into the hallway.
I stumble out into the hall and almost crash into the man who’s looking for me.
Killian’s in dark jeans and a V-neck T-shirt that shows off both his musclesandtattoos. His hair looks slightly more combed than usual, though I can tell he’s already run his hands through it at least a dozen times.
Our gazes meet as his eyes land on me, and then they track their way down the length of me. Starting with my face and then traveling down my neck and chest and the rest of my body.
Mint-green summer dress that’s a couple inches too short and strappy sandals and all.
I catch his pupils noticeably dilating before his stare hardens and tension clenches his jaw shut.
“That dress…” he says slowly, his tone throatier than usual. “That dress… is short.”
My cheeks warm up, and I bashfully run my hands over the skirt portion. “Oh. Um, yeah… it’s not really my thing.”
“Don’t be rude!” Chantal interjects. “She’s a ten, and you know it!”
Killian’s expression deepens into a glower. “Everybody’s already gathered. Time to head down.”
He turns and strides off without another word.
The heat’s still on my face, and I’m awkwardly standing in the hall as I watch him go. My heart sinks into my stomach.
That’s it? That’s all he had to say?
Maybe the kisses and the touches and falling asleep in his arms didn’t mean what I thought they meant. I’m just fooling myself thinking there was anything between us and he’d like how I looked in this silly summer dress.
I swallow the disappointment and follow him downstairs, ready for the party to be over with before it’s even begun.
The Callahan’s homecoming party is like all parties—full of people drinking socially as they gather around and chitchat. They’re basically having the time of their lives while I’m tucked away in a corner with a placeholder drink in hand.
The wine cooler is cold against my fingertips, the condensation dripping down the bottle, but I clutch it as if it’s a lifeline.
It’s one of the few props I have to make myself look as normal and nonchalant as possible in situations like these.
The truth is, even before I was taken hostage by Fedorov, social gatherings weren’t exactly my thing. Even as a kid, sticking my nose in a novel or puzzle book were my preferred past times.
Groups of people have always made me nervous. I’ve always felt woefully underprepared. As if I stick out like a sore thumb while everybody else mingles and bonds.
Still, the party is nice.
Chantal’s done an amazing job bringing everyone together. Everything’s gone off without a hitch, including the surprise welcome we greeted Ronan and Simone to when they walked through the door.
