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From behind his back, he pulls out a colorful crown.
I gasp, covering my mouth with a hand. “Oh my God, Maddox—it’s beautiful!” It looks so real, it’s hard to believe each flower—roses, carnations, daisies, lilacs—are all made from paper. It goes so far and beyond what he did to my toilet paper dress. I’m awestruck. “How did you learn to do all that? This is way beyond folding Kleenex at the Omni Hotel.”
“Yeah.” He looks down, his cheeks going pink. “I have a hobby I keep on the side.”
“Okay.” My skin heats at the thought of Maddox sharing it with me. “Spill it.”
He looks up in thought, blushing. “Thinking.”
“I won’t tell a soul. Promise.”
He groans. “Fine. I like crafts.”
I bump his shoulder. “Come on, more.”
“I’m definitely my father’s son. I have a passion for origami. I have hundreds of pieces hidden away.” He points at me. “But you can’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my bad boy reputation.”
Everything about what’s happening right now is pure awesomeness, and it’s doing things to me. This bad boy player, under it all, is thoughtful, kind, artistic, and deep. And as I get to know him, I see heislike his kind father. “I won’t tell, but just so you know, it might be one of my favorite things about you.”
His eyes go wide, just for a split second. “Good. But if you out me, I’ll deny it.”
“Fair enough.” My heart does a dance in my chest. “I’m happy to keep that part of you all to myself.”
“Do that.” He gently places the crown on my head, then he says, “Well, my bar wench, may I have the pleasure of your company tonight?” He extends his hand.
“Absolutely.” I take it.
We make our way out into the castle’s ballroom, which feels like we’ve time traveled to the Renaissance. Along with the massive candelabra chandelier, wall sconces light the room.There’s an orchestra playing, and everyone is dressed the part, sitting at long tables and drinking from goblets.
After an amazing meal, we watch bodies move across the ballroom floor as we chit-chat. I don’t want to go out there—I have zero idea how to do the dances they’re doing.
Then Maddox stands and extends his hand. “If this is our only chance at this, we should live it up.”
I stay firmly planted where I am. “I don’t know. It looks hard.”
“Come on. You owe me.” When I shoot him a puzzled look, he adds, “After I told you my craft secret.”
I groan. “Fine.” I grab his hand and he guides me to the floor. We take each other in our arms, and Maddox mimics the other dancers and presents his hand. We follow the group, trying to catch on to the hops and skips.
Soon, he’s swinging me around with skill that shows he’s a natural, or that he’s had a lot of training, and I’m laughing when I say, “If only my mother could see me now.”
He twirls me around. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m a dancing bar wench. Just add it to the list she has of my dramatic, unladylike behaviors.”
Maddox stops dancing and holds me when he says, “She seems to have a flair for the dramatic herself.”
“Maybe that’s where I got it from. Which is ironic since she was the one who didn’t want me to be an actress.”
His brows furrow. “Doesn’t she want you to be happy?”
I shrug. “Maybe? But I think her need to have me do what she wants is greater than her wish for me to be happy. She has mental health issues, and unfortunately, she’s never sought help for them.”
He studies my face. “That’s shitty.”
“Yeah. Being without my mom is painful. Having her in my life is more painful.”
The music changes to something slow, so Maddox guides me into slow steps as our bodies stay close.
