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He frowns. “You work?”
“I run a nonprofit. The Montague Animal Foundation.” Although, maybe I should change it to Bishop now that Dad refuses to fund it. “I sit on the boards of a few other local nonprofits too, but I’m not as involved with them. We only meet once a month at most.”
“Oh.”
Why does he sound surprised? “Did you have something in mind to attend?”
He adjusts his silverware in front of him, aligning it with the edge of the table. “There’s a benefit I’m expected to go to tonight, actually. It’d be easy to add you as my plus one.”
I internally grimace. Small talk with people I don’t know? Terrible vegetarian options? Just please let it not be one that has dancing too.
“Sounds great,” I say, pasting on a smile. “Who’s it for?”
“American Heart Association. No, lungs. Wait… kidneys?” He shakes his head after a moment. “One of those. Dad bought a table and wanted me to make an appearance.”
“Will he be there?” I’d rather avoid Mr. Bishop’s cold air of disapproval if possible.
“No. He’s stepped down from attending a lot of these kinds of things over the last couple years.”
“And you go in his place?”
He nods, his lips twisting. “Well, Gabriel did most of it. But now I guess he won’t.”
“And you don’t enjoy going?”
He stills. “What makes you say that?”
My hand flutters up to my face. “You made this expression…” Crap. I shouldn’t be admitting how closely I’m watching him.
He sighs, realigning the silverware. “It’s not that I’m unwilling to help - I’ll donate all day - but I don’t see how me sitting in a ballroom with a bunch of other suits is going to make a difference.”
I take in the expensive cut of his suit, the heavy watch on his wrist that screams wealth. The breadth of his shoulders, those piercing blue eyes. But all of that isn’t what makes him so captivating. He has an aura of… power surrounding him. There’s no other way to describe it.
“You lead by example. Others see you there and realize it’s a worthy cause. People have always followed you.”
“I… guess I’ve never thought of it like that before. Outside work at least.” He squints at me like he’s trying to figure something out, but our server comes then with our salads and I use the opportunity to look busy so he won’t scrutinize me anymore.
We decide on a few other places to make our appearances over the next week, each one a necessary evil, but it’s guaranteed time to spend with him. To appearin love. But as our entrees arrive, he utters those dreaded words, “So about some ground rules.”
I don’t want there to be rules. I want this to be a marriage, or at least like dating. Exploring this new relationship, discovering each other, intertwining our lives.
Not separating things further.
“What did you have in mind?”
“For starters-”
A shadow crosses our table, Archer going silent.
“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple.”