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If my dress didn’t get Harry’s attention at the Greater Stanmore Rural Fire Brigades fundraising dinner, then nothing would.
Doug hurried past, doing a double take. I glared, covering my ample cleavage with a bouquet of flowers I’d bought for Harry’s speech. Doug hurried off.
If I slouched, my boobs fell out. Not fall-out-and-land-in-my-lukewarm-mushroom-soup type of fall out but a nip-slip was a clear and present danger.
I approached the table booked for the practice, where Harry was already seated. A spare seat was beside him. Wait staff had already started the meal service.
Sam gave me a thumbs-up from the table across from ours, waggling her eyebrows.
“Everything okay?” Harry asked.
“Yes. Apologies for being late.” I tamped down the urge to yell for Harry to stop asking if everything was okay. “The florist was slammed with orders today.”
Harry had been asking if I was okay all week since returning to work after Granny Lynn’s funeral. No flirting. We also hadn’t carpooled together.
“Flowers are for the fire brigade representative?” he asked.
“Yes, after your speech.”
While at home, I thought about Granny Lynn, going over my ideas and mood boards for her house and checked on ‘Merribee’ each day. Sam visited, and she’d surprised me with setting up a website for my business in under two hours, using a template. It now felt so real, so close. I was one click away from launch.
Ryan had recovered from his stomach bug but sent his apologies for tonight, letting Uncle Bruce take care of the fundraising dinner. Which meant I had no overbearing brother watching Harry’s and my every move.
I sat up straighter. Had Harry even noticed my dress? I cringed, noticing paint from finishing the parlour last night on two fingernails. I scratched it off, and then plucked my phone from my clutch to send Sam a discreet text.
Me: I look like a prostitute *mortified emoji* IT’S A SLUTTY MCWHORE GOWN!! I can’t get up on stage like this
I slipped my phone under my thigh and picked up my knife and fork as a waiter placed a steak, potato and broccolini meal down in front of me.
Ping!She raised an eyebrow in my direction while retrieving her phone. She smirked, then tapped away at her screen.
My thigh vibrated less than a minute later. I swallowed a mouthful of steak and potato and then checked my phone.
Sam: You look smoking *fire emoji* If you didn’t touch your tits so much, everyone wouldn’t be looking at them!
Me: I can barely breathe in this! Or sit properly! It’s fine when I’m standing up but everything falls out when I’m sitting down!!!
Sam: IT’S FINE. IT’S GOOD CLEAVAGE. NOT SLUTTY CLEAVAGE *eye roll emoji*
“Everything okay?” a deep voice rumbled in my ear. I almost dropped my phone as I faced Harry.
While conversation at work during the week had been polite and distant, Harry had texted at night while I stayed up late to finish painting the parlour, talking about everything and anything. I’d even told him about the ABC’s request to film a special about the bushfire ten years on, and had shared my pros and cons for doing the interview.
But neither of us had mentioned kissing or dates. And now I was falling out of a dress wondering when or if Harry would notice.
He was so close. I could smell his soap and cologne, the starch of his dress shirt and a slight hint of sweat.
I took deep breath.Divine.
“Something wrong?” Harry frowned.
“What?” I squeaked, crossing one arm over my chest. Several guests turned my way. I forced a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”Just been caught sniffing a guy.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I hissed, clutching my phone.
He leaned in close. “Sam’s right.”
