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They shopped a little longer, and she picked a few shirts he’d look great in, even if she’d never have a chance to see him wear them. Maybe someone he’d take out in Boston next month would appreciate it.
They were only half a block from the store when Cleo started peeking in the box. “I’m going in this restaurant bathroom and trying this on.”
“No way,” Nick said, switching the bag to his other hand and holding it farther away from her. “We surprise each other. You’re just going to have to be patient. I want a big reveal in the gardens when the party starts.”
“Why?” she asked, pouting and reaching for the bag.
“I want that moment.”
“Moment?”
“The one where I get to see you from across the room. I can watch all the heads turn your way and whisper about how gorgeous you are. Then a moment later, they’ll realize you’re with me. I want that.”
“You’re so different than I thought you were,” she admitted, looping her arm in his.
“I have that bull-in-a-china-shop vibe, but really, I’m a romantic. Sometimes you need a lover, and sometimes you need a fighter.”
“And you’re both.” She put her head on his shoulder and gripped him like she was about to float away. About to lose him any second. And really, it wouldn’t be long until she would.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Nick
He started to understand why his brothers wore suits now and made sure to keep their hair groomed and perfectly styled. There was a power in that posture. The way he buttoned the suit jacket and tugged the sleeves into place made him feel ready for anything.
Or at least he thought he was. He’d imagined the moment Cleo stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the gardens. Nick had been glancing up, waiting, but there was no way to be ready for that. Her dress had a deep V that highlighted her breasts perfectly. It was short, her long tan legs fully on display. Normally she wore her hair up, looking ready for court, but now it was down and in flowing curls.
Staring up, he lost his breath. His heart probably hadn’t really stopped, but it sure felt like it. It was one of those moments. The ones that form a core memory. Saved for the life-flashing-before-your-eyes reel.
“Shit,” he murmured, realizing just how bad he had it. Not only would he be unable to let her go after they were done here in Georgia, but he might never be able to live without her. A prospect he hadn’t ever faced.
Before she saw him standing below in the gardens, he watched her search the crowd for him. She had a nervous expression as she ran her hands down her arms, hugging herself. It happened just as he thought. Heads turned her way, and people whispered their comments about who she might be. What he hadn’t anticipated was the overwhelming sense of pride he felt when she finally saw him and her face washed with relief. He wanted to be the thing that brought her back to center. That calmed her. Made her feel safe and confident.
Cleo waved and grinned, then did a playful curtsy to show off her dress. She charged down the steps toward him, and he closed the gap as fast as he could.
“Your suit,” Cleo said, touching his arm.
“No one will be looking at me all night as long as I’m standing next to you.”
“Florence is going to do her reading in a half hour. We need to get a good seat.”
“I have a better idea,” Nick said, offering his arm for her to hold. “Come with me.”
“We won’t listen to Florence?” she asked, sounding nervous.
“Trust me,” he whispered. “I have an idea.”
He led her to the area he’d scoped out before she came down. Nick liked to have a good handle on his surroundings. Years of getting into and subsequently trying to get out of trouble had honed that skill.
“Florence,” he said confidently as he stepped into the large party tent right by the people who were working on setting up the seating out front of it. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
The old woman with a shock of black hair and a nervous-looking posture turned their way. “Erm, yes?” Her British accent threw Nick for a loop. “May I help you?”
“We’re actually here to help you,” Nick replied, feeling Cleo squeeze down on his arm. “I know these events can be overwhelming. Everyone wants a piece of you. Mingling and trying to tell funny anecdotes all while watching the clock and hoping you’ve been there long enough to politely leave.”
Florence chuckled. “I’m supposed to say I love these things. Fans really are what makes my stories popular. I’d be crude and ungrateful if I said otherwise. The least I can do is chat with them.”
“Or so they tell you,” Nick said with a large smile. “It’s a lot. And it’s exhausting. We’re here to offer our help.”
