"Yes," Liam said.
Caleb stepped back toward the boutique entrance, still smiling. "I haven't had this much fun since before I signed with Heartland."
He pulled open the door, shot them one last grin over his shoulder and slipped through the boutique doors.
Caleb
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Caleb stood in front of the mirror while the associate adjusted his jacket, pins flashing briefly in the fabric before disappearing again.
The associate's hands were efficient. Caleb thanked her when she smoothed the sleeve. Tipped his head slightly when she asked him to turn. Small gestures. The kind that kept interactions smooth and prevented his name from appearing in gossip columns attached to words like "difficult" or "rude."
The mirror showed him the version America wanted. Clean. Safe. Wholesome enough to sell soap and Christmas specials. Wearing a suit that photographed well and started no conversations.
The fitting was necessary for the Sterling Gala tonight, some charity obligation the network insisted on, but necessary didn't make it interesting.
The boutique door opened.
Caleb's gaze flicked to the mirror. A man walked in like he'd been personally invited.
Khakis. Polo. A watch that was trying. The posture of someone who thought walking into a room was the same as mattering in it.
"Mr. Sterling!" The greeter's voice was bright, professional. "Right this way, your brother arranged everything."
The man—Chad—smiled like he'd just won something. "Yeah, Liam knows I appreciate quality." His voice carried, present in a way that assumed people wanted to hear it.
Caleb watched in the mirror as Chad's gaze swept the boutique.
A woman in black crossed the floor, tablet tucked to her chest. Chad's attention locked onto her. His gaze started at her heels and dragged upward, lingering in a way that wanted to be seen.
Chad smiled at her, the smile of a man who thought being noticed was the same as being wanted.
"Hey." Chad's tone landed somewhere between friendly and presumptuous. "Busy day?"
The woman glanced up. Polite. Nothing offered. "We aim to provide excellent service, sir."
Chad held the smile. "I bet you do. I'm having an unbelievable day…could use someone making it better."
She angled away, smooth as glass. "Your fitting room is this way, Mr. Sterling."
Chad followed, still grinning. "You free later? I'm kidding—unless you're free."
"This way, Mr. Sterling."
The associate finished with Caleb's sleeve. "All set, Mr. Hart."
"Thank you," Caleb said, meaning it. She smiled and stepped back. He stayed where he was, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate slowness. Watching.
The personal shopper appeared for Chad. “Mr. Sterling, we’ve been expecting you.”
Chad puffed up.
The shopper gestured toward a private fitting area, then to a garment bag hanging nearby like it contained something sacred.
"For tonight's gala, you'll need something truly special. Something that announces your arrival," she unzipped the bag with a flourish.
Electric plum velvet.
Shoulders like a Bond villain. Lapels wide enough to land planes on. A ruffled silk shirt cut in a deep V. A chunky gold chain that looked like it had been stolen from a rapper's nightmares.
