Page 57 of Hats off to Love

21

Looking down at my calendar, I cross off today’s date and count. There are eight days remaining until the Derby. Eight days left with my dwindling inventory. Eight days left with my fake boyfriend. Eight days left until it’s all over.

As much as I’ve enjoyed my first season, it’s not lost on me that I did in fact bite off more than I can chew. I will be relieved to have this behind me, and it’s also quite possible I will sleep for two weeks straight. I’m reaching the point of no return on my anxiety levels.

I had originally planned on closing the shop for a week, but now I might make that a little bit longer. I also think I’m going to cut back on the shop hours. I won’t need to be open as much, and it will give me time to start working on my stock for next year.

A stock that, as I look around at the walls and racks, I see is wearing thin. Tomorrow will be my last remaining busy day. I’ll have some business on Sunday, but as for next week, I predict it will be mostly last-minute attendees looking for something, anything to wear. Hopefully, shoppers won’t be too disappointed and will buy what I have left.

Right at six on the dot, the door to the shop opens, the bell rings, and in walks Stokes with his long legs and a broody vibe. My heart rate picks up at just the sight of him. He hasn’t gone home to change from his day at work, still wearing the same dark gray suit from this morning, only he’s swapped out his navy plaid tie for a burgundy bowtie with white polka dots. He’s so handsome, and right this second, it hurts to look at him.

His eyes find mine. I’m still behind the counter, and I’ve just closed the sales from the day. The perma-scowl on his face instantly relaxes, and I automatically know it’s been one of those kinds of days at work.

“Hi,” I say to him, just barely over a whisper.

He returns the greeting with a closed-mouth smile, and it’s the color of his eyes that I notice first as he approaches. Tonight they are more muddy than bright.

He comes around the counter and pulls me into a hug. His face drops to my hair, and he lets out the longest, slowest exhale.

Oh, man.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him closer, not even skirting the elephant in the room.

He pauses as his head moves lower into the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he thinks about my question. Eventually he pulls back a bit and says, “No. I just needed a minute like this.” He brushes his lips against mine.

There’s that word from him again . . . need.

“Or maybe two,” he says as he settles into me again.

Warmth, sage, body wash . . . all of it surrounds me, and I breathe him in. Since Avery came yesterday, I’ve been off, and I don’t know why. I’m thinking I need this hug too as I close my eyes and just stand here in his arms.

“How long until you’re done here?” He lifts his head and looks down at me, green and gold painting my skin.

“I’m pretty much done. If you’ll give me maybe five to ten minutes, I just want to run up and change real quick.”

He releases me a little then looks down to see what I’m wearing. It’s a day outfit, not a night ensemble, and he nods his head in understanding. “I’ll be outside.”

Together we walk out the front door. He watches as I lock up, and then I sprint up the stairs to change. I grab an olive green dress that reminds me of his eyes. It’s long-sleeved, tight, and short. Paired with a few long necklaces, some high black boots, and no headpiece, this is the perfect outfit for a bourbon tasting.

A car is idling at the curb, Stokes is standing next to it on his phone, and he opens the door for me as I approach. I can’t help but notice the way his fingers curl into his hands as he drinks me in from head to toe.

“Car service tonight?” I ask as I slip into the back seat and he follows.

“Yeah, I figured it’s just better this way. There’s no telling how much bourbon we’ll end up tasting, and I’d rather be prepared than not.”

“Smart.”

As the vehicle pulls away from the curb, I angle a little so I can look at him and lean my head against the headrest. He does the same and then reaches over to wrap his warm hand around my thigh. He pushes the edge of the dress up a tiny bit and slips his fingers underneath. I cover his hand with mine. Neither one of us says anything, we just stare at each other and let our muscles relax. His presence is comforting, and just being near him, I feel better than I have all day. Maybe he does too.

“How was work?” he asks.

“Long,” I tell him, and I mean it. These days have felt endless. “How about you?”

His fingertips press into my skin a bit as he thinks about his answer, but in the end he just says, “Also long. The whole week has been long.”

“Well, it’s the weekend now, and I’m happy to be here with you.” I give him a small smile, which he doesn’t return; he just continues to stare at me with something that looks a lot like adoration in his eyes—or is that just me seeing what I’m so desperately craving to see from him? Overthinking things is not helping with my already-off-balance mental state.

Eventually, the car turns on Main and lines up behind a few others who are also dropping guests off at the large historic brick building. Other than the two work outings, this is really the first time Stokes and I are stepping out together in public. I didn’t think anything of it when he asked if I wanted to go tonight, but now that we’re here, things just got a whole lot crazier.