“Literally any time. Especially now that I’ve got your number.” Sarah waggled her phone, hugged Zane, and escorted him out of the side room. “Oh, God, look at the mess. Excuse me, I have to run!” She did just that, making order out of chaos as she went, and Zane left the library with a smile.
He felt energetic, ready to take on the world, but new snow had fallen, so his walk back toward town was more cautious than brisk. But that turned out to be perfect, as he saw the recognizable shape of Vicki’s blocky wool coat and her cascade of blonde hair coming out of a building about half a block fromthe town square. Feeling startlingly confident, he put on a burst of speed, caught up, and bumped his hip against hers. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Excuseme?” The face that looked up at his was not only not Vicki, but was seventy if she was a day. She did have thick blonde hair and the same boxy wool coat, but was evidently not the kind of woman who wanted to be flirted with by men half her age, because she whacked Zane with her handbag. “Rude! Good Lord, what is the world coming to! Go away, young man! Go learn some manners!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I thought you were a friend!” As he scampered aside, trying to avoid being smacked with the purse, he realized the woman’s coat was entirely clean, and Vicki’s, which he’d seen only that morning, had still been a muddy mess. He yelled, “I’m sorry!” one more time, and rushed down the street toward the B&B.
He burst inside like he could leave his embarrassment outdoors, and nearly ran over Dion, who was blissfully, reliably recognizable in orange. He also jolted back a step, then assembled his expression into a grimace that Zane thought was meant to be a smile.
“Oh, good, Mr. Z. I was just saying I needed to talk to you. Have a seat.” His new friend Aaron was standing a few feet back, filling the B&B’s foyer and projecting a kind of protective aura. Zane wondered if he thought he was going to take a temper tantrum out on Dion. He didn’tthinkhe had a reputation as a temperamental boss, but mumbled something about artistic temperaments under his breath as he went into the parlor under Dion’s direction.
He sat, folded one leg over the other neatly, and sighed. “All right, I’m clearly not going to like it, so you might as well spit it out.”
“You don’t have an artistic temperament,” Dion reassured him, then, less reassuringly, added, “I want you to remember that, okay? The…oh, let me just show you.” He offered Zane his phone, which was open to a tabloid’s website.
There was a genuinely lovely photograph of Zane and Vicki on the site’s main page, evidently taken at breakfast that morning. They were gazing intently into each other’s eyes—Zane imagined they’d been talking about the dress—and the headline saidZane-y Love At Last?
“That,” Zane said, “is aterribleheadline.”
“But it’s agreatstory,” Dion said. “Listen to me, Zane, this is important.”
It must be, if Dion was actually calling him by his full first name. Zane nodded, indicating his assistant should continue, and Dion’s eyebrows drew down seriously. “The media is going to be all over this for weeks. Months. Until atleastafter the ball. You’re the leading man in a goddamnfairy taleright now, do you understand that?”
Zane said, “Uh,” and blinked at his assistant.
“Right. You’re the leading man in a goddamnfairy taleright now,” Dion informed him. “The handsome prince returns home to sew a ballgown for the girl next door. Huge swaths of people willnever forgive youif you screw this up, Zane. I’m going to have to talk to Ms. Hawthorne about some fake dating, maybe, because you two are not going to get away with a ‘we’re just friends’ narrative on this. You can break up after the ball. Maybe. God, maybe we can get—I don’t know, I’ll find out what movie stars she likes and I’ll try to arrange for one of them to ask her out. Pull her attention from you, after the ball. Which you’ll obviously be taking her to.”
“What?” Zane blinked some more. “Uh, that’s not in the contest rules, is it?”
Dion lifted the phone with the picture of them gazing at each other again. “It is now. You’re going anyway. You always go to the big gala events. Now you have a date. Yourfairy tale princessdate. I’ll arrange it with Ms. Hawthorne.”
“Well, no,” Zane said, dazed. “No, I think I can manage that myself. But it’s just a picture, Dion…”
“There’s no such thing as just a picture in today’s media,” Dion said flatly. “Not when careers rise and fall on the right kind of story being told. You’re popular, Zane, and you’re a good designer—even a great one—but people want to know the man behind the gowns, and this is the perfect opportunity to show them that. So can you talk to Ms. Hawthorne about this, or do you need me to? Because I will. That’s my job.”
“No,” Zane said again. “No, I can do it. But I’m going to need a minute to think about all of this, Dion. Just…give me a little while to think about it.”
Dion made a noise that could pass for grudging agreement if Zane really wanted it to, which he did.
He nodded, got to his feet, and went up to his room to contemplate the idea that he might have to fake date his fated mate.
CHAPTER 11
TheStar Captainmovie was every bit as much fun as Vicki thought it would be, with an eight year old kid almost as cute as Noah Brannigan in a sidekick role that made Vicki laugh through the whole movie. Her onlyrealobjection was that the female lead—ingenue Nora Brusch, who Zane actually designed clothes for—was more than a little too young for both the Star CaptainandBenton Sinclair. Vicki texted her brother to say so on both counts as she walked home, and laughed as he responded with,omg, right? If only casting directors would listen to you, instead of their billion dollar franchises!
Vicki snorted and put her phone back in her pocket, then pulled it out again as it chimed again, this time with an unknown number and a question:I’m still in town. Dinner tonight?
Only one person would be letting her know he was still in town. Vicki’s heart leaped so hard she got dizzy and had to lean against a tree. She took several deep breaths without it calming her heart at all, then looked around to make sure nobody was watching before squealing with excitement and doing a little dance there in the snow by the sidewalk’s edge.
Apparently that was what her heart needed, because while it didn’t stop thumping like crazy, it felt better, like it had wanted a dance of joy. She texted,I was going to cook lasagna, want to come over?back, and rushed home to change clothes twice, as if Zane hadn’t already seen her in the entire gamut of her fashion choices, which range from ‘yoga class’ to ‘prim schoolmarm’ with a stop at ‘1980s snowbunny’ in between.
Lasagne sounds great. Can I bring anything? Salad? Garlic bread? Dessert?
A warm flush ran through Victoria at that last suggestion. She had lots of good ideas about what to do for dessert with Zane Bellamy.Any or all,she agreed.See you around six?
It’s a date.
Vicki, now safely alone in her apartment, jumped up and down with glee for a minute. A date! She had a date with Zane Bellamy! Probably not a real date because that was just a thing people said, but she could hold it close in her heart and pretend!
