Sarah’s only response was a self-satisfied laugh.
A few dances later and Dad finally managed to convince Mom to give Audrey a break. I was thrilled when Audrey made her way over to join me on the dance floor.
“Tired yet, or do you think I can steal a dance?” she asked as the music changed to a swinging Sinatra tune.
I grabbed Audrey’s hand and spun her around on the spot before catching her hips and closing the distance between us. The dance floor was fairly packed, now that all the important parts of the night had concluded. Everyone was free to let loose, and they were certainly taking the opportunity. In the corner of my eye, I could see Greg’s grandmother dancing with my cousin. For eighty-one, she still had some moves.
Sarah winked at me when she caught us dancing, and I couldn’t remember being so happy.
It was past midnight when we both finally lumbered back into our room, more tired than tipsy. Audrey flopped onto the bed immediately, groaning as she stretched out. I began undressing, still having enough of my wits to hang my jacket up before sitting on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes. The sheets rustled next to me, and I glanced over to find Audrey on her side, head propped up on her elbow while she watched me.
Standing, I faced her and made a show of the next few steps. Tie and cufflinks off and placed on the side table, I slowed to undo my shirt buttons one at a time. Catching her eye, I asked, “Enjoying the view?”
Her heated gaze lingered for a moment. “That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And oh, the things I would do with her right now if I had the energy. “Would you be disappointed if I said I was too tired for sex?”
She sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God, I don’t think I could move a muscle. Might be a bit weird.”
I chuckled. “Good to know.”
I watched as she squirmed on the bed, trying without any luck to reach the zip on the back of the dress. “Do you want a hand there? Not that this isn’t entertaining,” I asked, amused.
“Please.” Her hand flopped back down on the bed like a petulant child. I liked seeing her like this. It felt like I was seeing a side of her that not many did. It felt natural and familiar, like a worn sweater. Comforting.
I helped her out of her dress, which found itself discarded on the floor near her shoes. Left only in her underwear, she quickly crawled under the covers and burrowed in.
God, I loved this woman.
There were many things I would remember about tonight, but I knew without a doubt when I looked back, this was the memory I’d cherish.
I finished undressing, then folded and placed my suit pants on the side table.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I asked, hopeful.
Her smile was half-hidden by the pillow but obvious in her voice. “Definitely. Your family is great.”
“Mom didn’t scare you off?”
Her eyes opened, serious. “Of course not, she’s wonderful. I can see where you and Sarah get your good humor.”
“And our good looks.” I pulled back the covers and slid in next to her. She shuffled closer, laying her head over my chest, and tangled our legs together. “I’m really glad you came today. It was nice having someone to share this with.”
She hummed sleepily in agreement. As softly as I could, so I didn’t wake her, I stroked along her spine. I knew without a doubt I wanted this every night. She felt so right in my arms.
Now that she’d met my parents, I wanted to take her home, show her where I grew up. Enjoy more Sundays with her and Sarah. Hell, maybe Matt could come, and we could double date at some of the so-called amazing brunch places that I lived near but never bothered to go to. I wanted to support Audrey’s launch, maybe even talk to Wes or Liv and get some good social media support for the brand. I’d have to mention it to Audrey, see what she thought.
And just as I felt sleep tugging at me, I had a single consistent thought. I was completely and utterly head over heels for Audrey Adams.
27
Audrey
Afew days later, Tiff sat beside me at Chicago’s foremost annual non-media affiliated culinary awards. Apparently, all of that was important, but I was just here for Tiff. It was her fourth time being nominated in the bartending category, but the first I’d been able to attend.
It wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting.
The restaurant it was held in hadn’t been transformed so much as mildly dressed up. A small stage had been erected along one wall, and on it stood a speaker’s podium and a trestle table piled high with fancy bronze awards. Several gentlemen in three-piece suits stood up there, one hosting and the other guarding the statues before passing them out as each winner approached the stage.
