He laughs and swipes his corndog through the ketchup again. “I loved how she taught that big Rottie mix to roll over. Duke’s been skittish around everyone else, but Junie just walked right up and melted his heart.”
“She has that effect on everyone.” I take a bite of my corndog and suddenly remember something I’ve been meaning to ask him. I chew quickly and dab my mouth with a napkin. “Speaking of Junie, are you familiar with the Diamonds and Opals Charity Ball?”
Dax gives me a guarded look and grabs a fry. “That fancy black tie gala they have in the Pearl District every year? What does that have to do with Junie?”
“The proceeds this year are going to the Association for Down Syndrome Research,” I explain. “Simon’s on the board of directors, and he bought tickets for the whole family, but it turns out Missy and her husband can’t make it.”
I let the words hang there for a second.
“Are you wanting to go?” he asks.
I nod and take a sip of my iced tea. “I was already planning on it, but now there are a couple of extra tickets. I was wondering if you might like to join me.”
There, I said it. Well, I didn’t say it quite right.
“Actually, no,” I say. “Let me rephrase that. I know you probably wouldn’t like to go, since you told me before you hate dressy events.”
That gets a smile from him. “You have a good memory.”
“Right. And I guess what I was trying to say is that I would love it if you’d accompany me to the ball. I’d really like to have you with me.”
Dax takes a bite of his corndog and chews thoughtfully. “It’s the last Saturday of the month, right?”
I don’t ask how he knows, though I’m curious. I also wonder if he realizes that’s the final day of The Test. If I say nothing, maybe he’ll forget.
“It’s at the Markham Center this year,” I say. “Black tie only, of course.”
“Of course.” He nods and sets down his corndog before taking a slow sip of soda. “I accept.”
“You do?”
I probably sound like a kid on Easter morning, but I don’t care. I’m giddy that Dax is going with me. “I promise I’ll make it painless. We can hang out with Simon and Cassie and mock snobby rich people all night if you want.”
That gets a smile out of him. “You know how to push my buttons,” he said. “The good ones, I mean.”
“I’m a big fan of your buttons.”
He laughs and picks up his corndog again. “Okay, then. Want me to pick you up in a limo at six?”
“You don’t have to do that?—”
“Nah, it’ll be fun. I rarely take the opportunity to be a wealthy jackass. Might as well give it a shot.”
“Thank you, Dax.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “Really. This means a lot to me.”
“I know it does,” he says. “That’s why I said yes. Also, why I’d say yes to just about anything you asked me, especially when you do it with your shirt unbuttoned and that pleading look in your eyes.”
I glance down to see all my buttons are, in fact, fastened. I meet his eyes again to find him grinning. “Okay. Maybe it’s just you.”
Something flutters in my belly, and I do my best not to break into a little happy dance at the table. “Maybe so,” I say as I reach to steal the last french fry.
We walk into the ballroom of the Markham Center to a symphony of sounds. Literally, a symphony. There’s an eight-piece orchestra playing in the corner, while tuxedoed waiters float around the room like they’re doing the waltz with their platters of artfully arrayed shrimp puffs.
I smooth my hands down the skirt of my black silk chiffon gown, a four-thousand-dollar dress I scored for mere pennies from Rent the Runway.
Not that anyone here needs to know that.
Judging by the number of designer labels I spot in this crowd, there’s more money in this room than in Bill Gates’s checking account. Ladies in beaded evening gowns laugh a little too loudly, everyone jockeying for attention. It’s the place to be seen for wealthy Portlanders, and I have to admit, it’s a scene I know well. I spot a former client across the room and give a friendly wave before looping my arm through Dax’s.
