Page 53 of Reluctantly Yours

“He’s kidding,” Hans says, unfolding what looks like a director’s chair and motioning for me to sit.

“I wasn’t really,” Will complains, opening the largest makeup case I’ve ever seen.

“We brought champagne.” Hans pulls it out of his bag. I wonder what else he’s got in there.

He pops the cork and I laugh, feeling at ease about the whole thing for the first time today.

“You just sit back and relax and we’ll work our magic.”

* * *

An hour later, Hans and Fr—Will are on their way out and I’ve pulled on the sapphire blue gown that matches my eyes. I love how I look, like me but with more sparkle. I’m excited to go to the event and I’m also a little tipsy from the champagne. But my bubble bursts when I descend the stairs to find Barrett waiting in the foyer, looking gorgeous in a fitted tuxedo, and he barely glances at me.

He’s a man of formalities, which I would think includes telling a woman that she looks nice, but he just stares at me, his jaw working itself over before he reaches for the door.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” I say with pursed lips, because I know he hates when people mumble and don’t respond with a definitive yes or no. Which is funny, because I hear him do it all the time.

In the car he’s on his phone. I pull mine out, happy that I haven’t played today’s WordIt yet and have something to occupy the silence between us. I start with C O U N T, one of my starter words but have no luck. Then, I use S H A P E and the E is yellow so I know it’s in the word but not the right place. I find an L and a D but struggle to get the word.

“Hmm.” My brain is thinking hard out loud.

The car stops, I look out at our destination, a restaurant called Cipriani, located adjacent to the Chrysler Building. The driver door slams shut with Marcus’s exit.

“It’s ELDER,” Barrett announces and it catches me off guard.

“What is?” I ask.

“The WordIt today.”

My hands fly to my ears, but I can’t unhear it.

“Shh! You can’t tell me.”

“I just did,” he says, his voice void of feeling.

“I didn’t ask you,” I snap back, my irritation growing at his lack of consideration.

He shrugs. “I don’t have time to sit here and wait for you to finish.”

“Is that what you say to all the ladies? What a charmer,” I say in a huff. “I was almost there. I was going to get it.” My desire to be at this event with Barrett is diminishing by the minute and we haven’t even gone in yet.

Marcus opens my door and I climb out, tossing my phone and the unfinished WordIt game in my clutch. I’d rather end my one-hundred-ninety-seven-day win streak than use Barrett’s tip to finish the game.

Outside the car, Barrett takes my hand. My wrist is limp, barely holding on.

“You are horrible. I can’t believe you did that,” I bite out as we walk up three elongated, red-carpeted stairs before entering the door of the art deco style building.

“It’s a word game.” He waves to someone on the red carpet they’ve set up outside the venue and guides us into the line. “Relax.”

“Says the man who is as rigid as a cement block,” I retort.

Inside, there’s a backdrop with the Top Dog charity logo, along with its top sponsors, where guests are taking photos.

Barrett drops my hand to place his on my lower back and moves us into line. My backless dress makes our contact skin to skin. Surprisingly his touch isn’t rigid. It’s warm and firm, his palm applying slight pressure into my spine, and I’d give anything to be somewhere I could smack his hand away. But, we’re up next, the couple in front of us moving from the X in front of the backdrop so we can proceed.

We smile for the cameras, Barrett’s arm around my waist, pulling me in close. The second we make it into the screening tent to check in, I step out of his reach. He doesn’t bother to address my rebuff.