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Chapter 11
Nick
Igripthesteeringwheel tightly, staring at my white knuckles and wonder when I became a nervous teenage boy all over again. Anticipation runs through me as I’m sitting outside of Blair’s building, waiting for her text.
Thankfully, she didn’t question my motive when I asked her to come to this event.
But there’s something troubling about that. Blair has been quick to come at me in the past when I’ve provoked her or tried to boss her around. Her reaction two days ago was lackluster. There was no fight, not even an attempt to piss me off with a sarcastic comment.
She’d looked tired, sitting in the lobby. Deflated and pale.
Maybe she was telling the truth and really wasn’t well. At the time, I thought it was an excuse, but after seeing her in person…
My cell lights up and I snatch it out of the passenger seat. Blair’s name appears on my screen, my chest swelling with happiness to see it.
Just a minute.
My palms are starting to sweat. “Get a hold of yourself, Nick,” I mutter, totally annoyed with myself.
It’s 7 p.m. and the city streets are relatively calm. The evening has settled in a deep blue sheet over the skyline and a handful of stars are just barely visible. Forcing myself to stay calm, I get out of the car and step toward the sidewalk. It’s a gorgeous night and I’m attempting to enjoy the unseasonable warmth.
The glass door of Blair’s building flashes as it opens. I look over and everything stops.
She’s wearing an elegant, ivory dress that shows off her stunning curves. It wraps her figure beautifully, cinching just under her full breasts. The neckline is low enough that I have to fight to keep my eyes at a respectful height.
“You look…”
I didn’t mean for those cliché words to come out, and shake my head ruefully, starting over. “You’re a stunner, Blair Morrison. A secret weapon.”
She laughs at that, taking my hand as I help her into the car. Somehow, she looks even more beautiful cocooned in the leather seat, legs crossed daintily at the ankles. Strappy gold heels wrap her feet and catch the light.
“Beautiful,” I murmur once the door is closed, walking around to the driver’s side. I wanted to tell her she looked beautiful.
Why didn’t I?
That old inclination of putting up a wall comes back, but I fight it. Vanessa was right. I’ve been building walls over and over through the last few decades. I’m so good at it that I don’t even realize when I’m doing it.
Tonight will be a balancing act. After all, I’m Nicholas Weaver, heir to Weaver Industries. I need to charm everyone and make my father proud. But a part of me wants to steal Blair away into a corner and keep her to myself all night.
Back in the driver’s seat, I grip the steering wheel once more. She smells amazing. A subtle floral scent that wraps itself around me as I take a deep breath and pull out onto the street.
The venue isn’t far. Blair looks out the window as I drive, but I see her brows knit as I hang a left. She looks over at me, eyes narrowing.
Ah, there’s the Blair I know. That paleness hasn’t quite left her face, but the hint of suspicious sass is back.
“We aren’t—you aren’t—”
I pull up outside of The Grove and Blair lets out a laugh.
“You have to be kidding me.”
I can’t help grinning. “Sorry, kid. Not my choice. Our marketing team booked this place months ago. Even before you and I traded snide remarks in the bar. You want to relive that night?” I tease, watching her lips part and cheeks flush.
She gives me a light nudge, then steps out of the car as the valet holds the door open for her.
I walk around quickly and offer my arm. There’s bound to be some talk tonight. Already I see Allison, our lead sales rep, eyeing me from the stairs—When was the last time Nick Weaver brought a woman to an event?I can practically hear her thinking.
The Grove is the perfect place for this sort of thing. The night I met Blair in the bar, I’d been scoping it out ahead of time to see what marketing had in mind for this event.
