He nodded and walked away just as Harmony returned with my computer. “Who is that?”
“He was the man who rescued all my stuff from my car after the accident.”
“He seems to like you.”
“No he doesn’t,” I ground out. “He’s kind of rude.”
Actually, demanding was more accurate, but that made me like him a little, and I didn’t want to like him at all.
“Oh my god, LiLi, that dude is into you,” Melody breathed out, flopping into a chair next to me.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yep. But not for ninety seconds.” She faced me. “Now, tell me about the hottie.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, opening my laptop.
“Oh, there’s something to tell,” Harmony countered, taking the seat on the other side of me. “Spill.”
“We have so much to do. Can we please shelve this?” I begged.
“No,” Melody said.
“Yes,” Harmony countered, with an emphasis on the ‘s.’
“Killjoy,” Melody grumbled, and headed back to the stage, while Harmony leaned down and kissed my cheek.
“You have a reprieve until tonight.”
“Whatever,” I retorted, and went back to my list.
Harmony chuckled and walked away.
Lyric
“YOU LOOK GORGEOUS,” Harmony crooned as I shuffled out of the dressing room.
I smiled. Melody’s make-up artist and stylist had worked wonders, weaving my long blonde hair into an intricate braided bun on the side of my neck, leaving a few wisps of hair to fall around my face. My makeup was light, but he’d done a daring smoky eye, a light blush and a nude lip which complemented my Zac Posen gown perfectly.
The sleeveless, deep blue gown, had a plunging v-neckline, and the front was knotted, which hid my small pooch (I loved milk duds, sue me). It had a mermaid silhouette, but the tulle skirt was flared, so my leg brace was hidden. I wore one of my Loubouton peep toed heels, but I was regretting this choice slightly, because my crutches had been measured based on my natural height, not with a four-inch heel on.
But they were Loubouton. Fuck my crutches.
I followed my sisters to our table and saw that Wesley O’Neal and his CFO, Charles Alder, were already seated and I smiled. “This is not your table, sir.”
Wesley and I had been friends for a few years. He owned quite a bit of Savannah real estate and beyond, and I’d represented his firm when a rival company had wanted to buy one of his properties. The problem was, they wanted to do it illegally, so they paid a low-level guy in the city building inspector’s office to plant evidence that Wes had been less than honest in how he’d procured the building originally.
The thing about Wes was, he was honest to a fault. Not a pushover, mind you, but always told the truth and his handshake was his bond, real old-school stuff. It took over a month to find the evidence, but we did, and it had solidified our friendship outside of a professional relationship.
He grinned wide, standing and making his way to me before leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I know, but I was stuck with Gordon Snyder and I just could not sit there all night and listen to the wonders of six hundred CCs versus two hundred CCs. So, I secretly switched tags with Marvin Aikers.”
I grimaced. “Well, I’d like to know who the hell Marvin Aikers thinks he is, because he wasn’t originally sitting at my table. Sneaky little bastard.”
“You’re welcome.”
I laughed. “My hero.”
“Come, sit,” he ordered and nodded to my injury. “Tell me how this happened. I’m assuming it was while you were doing some kind of ninja move on a perp.”
