Her cheeks go pink, eyes sliding away then back to mine. “Maybe I can convince you to help me take them off later?”
My dick twitches and I want to say no convincing will be necessary, that we can go and I’ll take them off right now, but more importantly, I need to find out…
“How are you here?”
Something drifts across her face, mischief and worry and?—
“Blake and I conspired.”
My heart rolls over in my chest. “How?—”
“The flight to Utah was an hour and a half. When it looked like he wasn’t going to make it, Blake called me, I hopped on a plane, and ipso facto…I’m here. So”—she rubs her hands together—“who are we fleecing out of money?”
I grin despite myself. “It’s called fundraising, Teach.”
A slender shoulder shrugs. “Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.”
I laugh.
Fuck.
I laugh.
When ten minutes ago I was feeling like shit.
Leaning close, I trace the line of her jaw. “You didn’t have to?—”
Her fingers find mine, squeeze. “I know. But I wanted to. Now, quit stalling and show me off so I can play your gorgeous girlfriend who raises you a lot of money.”
“Girlfriend talk when you were giving me shit about saying I was your boyfriend just yesterday?”
“What can I say?” Another shrug. “Double standards are real.”
And then, fucking somehow, I’m laughing again.
No.
Not somehow.
It’s Kylie.
And Blake.
Later, it’s after Storm has left, after the other guys have gone too.
After a fuck-ton of money has been raised…mostly due to Kylie working the room and doing it with unassuming aplomb while the guys swooped in to support her and drive up those donations.
“Lots of years spent fundraising means I know how to turn the screws,” she told me when I asked her what her secret sauce was. Then she tossed me a grin before flitting off to the next group.
The result is that we should actually hit our funding goal in a matter of weeks.
Not months.
Not years.
If I hadn’t already wanted to claim Kylie as my own and keep her forever, tonight would have done it.
Now to just convince her of that.
