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I feel the tick of his jaw but don’t let him duck away. I keep my touch and my gaze steady.
“I love you, Shane. Not for what you’ve accomplished, not for what you have, but for who you are.” I drop one hand to his heart, pressing lightly.
His head shakes, almost imperceptibly, almost like he can’t believe what I’m telling him, but that’s fine. I have the rest of my life to convince this grumpy yet kindhearted man that he’s absolutely worthy of my love. In fact, I look forward to the process.
Painting is like that—a process.
Hours of dedication layer into one final image. The action of building, bit by bit, has always been my favorite part. Slowly chipping away at Shane’s defenses until he fully understands what he means to me will be an absolute privilege.
“You’ll get there,” I tell him, patting his chest with a wink. “I’m nothing if not tenacious.”
His smile relaxes into something bright and beautiful.
After a few beats, he nods toward the dance floor. “Should we dance?”
My mouth drops open. “You dance?”
“Who’s to say I’m not an Argentinian tango instructor?”
With the smooth way Shane glides me to the dance floor, he very well might be. When he effortlessly twirls me into a perfect dance embrace, I burst into disbelieving laughter. Several couples watch us, but Shane’s eyes are on me, a secret smile on his lips.
“You, sir, are an enigma.”
I lean into the hand framing my back and allow him to lead me around the room.
“As long as you call me yours, you can give me whatever label you like.”
This time, when I go to pinch him to make sure he’s truly my husband, Shane grabs my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips.
“Enjoy the dance. Who knows what disasters await us afterward? Cody looks like he’s trying to find an excuse to hit something.”
I glance at his eldest brother, who’s growing more agitated by the minute, and sigh.
“How long do we have to stay?”
Shane stops abruptly, almost causing me to trip in my heels. The hand on my back splays between my shoulder blades as the corner of his mouth kicks up.
“If you want to leave, I’ll call the jet right now.”
My eyes widen. “You can do that?”
When he shrugs, all casual and powerful, I want to wrap my fingers around his lapels and drag his lips to mine.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go home.”
“We can’t go home. Not with you in that dress. Not when you deserve a perfect night out.” Shane frowns so deeply I worry his eyebrows will merge. “You deserve a real date. I’m sorry I haven’t asked you before now.”
A chuckle escapes me. “I just like spending time with you. It doesn’t have to be official.”
“Yes, it does.”
Before I can argue, Shane takes me by the hand and leads me to the elevators. He punches the up button and then presses his phone to his ear. I only catch his side of the conversation—something about an estimated ETA, Blade transfer, and a French-sounding name. When we’re outside our suite door, he slides his phone into his breast pocket and runs his hands down my bare arms.
“Willow, may I please take you on a proper date?”
“Only if you tell me where we’re going.”
Shane doesn’t hesitate. “In ten minutes, Joaquin will meet us out front. He’ll take us to the private airport where we’ll fly to the city for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants.”
