Page 44 of Blue Line

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her.

She’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.

Her blonde hair is curlier than usual and loose across her shoulders. She’s wearing a black dress that fits her perfectly, accentuating her curves. It falls a little past her knees, and the top has a slight V, not enough to be overly revealing, but definitely enough for me to get a tease.

“Weston?” she prompts.

“Yes.” I force myself to stop staring at her and tuck my phone into my pocket.

Fuck I just want to kiss her. Get down on my knees and beg her to give me a chance. But I don’t. I can’t. So instead, I smile at her and make a vow to make this the best date she’s ever had.

Chapter seventeen

Hadley

“Am I dressed alright?” I run a hand down the little black dress I settled on for our “date.”

I honestly wasn’t sure what to wear, and when I saw this hanging in the back of my closet, I knew it was the one. It screams sexy and confident, at least to me, and that’s exactly how I need to feel if I’m going to be in front of a camera for pictures that will end up on the Storm’s social media.

Weston blinks a few times before nodding. “Yep. It’s great. Looks great on you, Hadley Jane. Perfect. Great.”

How many times can a man say great in a span of sixty seconds?

“Great, Weston Reynolds. You look great, too.”

I can’t help myself.

He chuckles. “We should go downstairs and wait for the car. It’ll be here shortly.”

“We’re not driving ourselves?”

“Nope,” he says simply as I follow him out of the apartment and onto the elevator.

“Perfect timing,” he says as we walk across the lobby. He gestures to the black SUV that’s just pulling to a halt by the curb.

“This is a bit much,” I mutter as we head to the waiting car, where we greet the driver before climbing into the backseat.

“We should be at the restaurant in twenty minutes, sir,” the driver says as he pulls away from the curb.

“Thank you.” Weston pulls out his phone and types something on it before shoving it in his pocket and turning to me.

“Thank you again for agreeing to this,” he murmurs. “Sutton promised me it won’t be too invasive. You do like steak, right?” He swallows. “Probably should have asked that before I made reservations at a steak house.”

“I enjoy a well-cooked piece of meat.” He smirks, and I shove his shoulder. “Stop it. Get your mind out of the gutter …”

He grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it before meeting my eyes.

“You’re the one who said it, Hadley Jane.” He winks at me, and I swoon a little. Damn him.

I shake my head, pulling my hand away, and he lets it go, but not before giving it a quick squeeze.

The drive is indeed short, and when we pull up to the restaurant, the driver once again opens our doors for us. My heart races as we step out onto the sidewalk. Weston puts his hand on the small of my back, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me at the contact.

We’re greeted by a young guy, Max, from the Storm’s social media team. He snaps a few pictures of us as we walk toward the front door.

“Breathe,” Wes whispers as he leads me inside the restaurant.

The hostess greets us and takes us to a small private room, as Max trails behind us. The server arrives quickly and takes our drinks order—a glass of red wine for me and a beer for Weston.