“Yeah. No. That won’t work.” Courtney was speaking into her phone as she came around the corner into the kitchen, where he waited in his best dress-up clothes. His shoes were even polished, and that never happened.
She glanced up from the call and full-court stopped. Her jaw dropped a few millimeters, and her eyes gentled.
That made a guy feel good about his decision to strangle himself with a button-down shirt all night.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” she said into the phone. She didn’t seem to wait for an answer before turning it off and shoving it in her purse.
She’d gone with a short blue sundress that accentuated the bump and the brown of her eyes at the same time.
“I should probably not wear flip-flops to this dinner, then.” Her eyes never left his, even as she spoke. They seemed pinned there, which he really dug.
“Wear what you want to wear,” he said.
Colorado was more of a come-as-you-are kind of state, and they were making the rules for themselves. At the same restaurant that you’d find a guy in a full suit, you’d also find a guy in Wranglers and cowboy boots. So, if Courtney wanted to wear flip-flops, that was fine. Setting their own tone for who they were together made all the sense in the world.
“One sec.” She turned and hustled back toward the direction of the bedrooms.
His gaze trailed to the window so he didn’t watch her ass as she left. That had become something of a problem for him. Really, watching every part of her—the quirk of her mouth, the way she fidgeted with her jewelry—had become part of his regular viewing habits.
“Do you mind helping me buckle these?” She held two strappy sandal wedges in her hand.
He nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
She sat on a chair beside the table and slipped her right foot into the shoe. He knelt down to get the buckle, only fumbling a little when his hand grazed the skin along the back of her ankle.
“My belly is making it impossible to tie my shoes or buckle them.” She sounded like this really bothered her. Also, it made sense why she only wore slip-on shoes lately. “And heels hurt now, which sucks for my Louboutins. They’re feeling neglected.”
Still kneeling before her, he gently pushed her foot into the other shoe, letting his hand linger against her ankle as he pulled the strap through the buckle. He traced the curve of her ankle up to her calf. A light touch, nothing invasive. Still, goose bumps trailed up the inside of her calves to the back of her knees.
Honestly, he had goose bumps too.
Once the shoe was buckled, he lifted her foot and kissed the top of her left shin. Subtle, and only a brush of his lips, but seriously, he’d never helped a woman put on her shoes before. Never knew it would make his throat get thick and his pulse beat harder.
“Brennan,” she whispered his given name, and he liked it. Liked that when he turned her on she called him the name he reserved for only those who mattered most in his life.
Like a clock hand finding its way to midnight, everything about this moment whispered perfection. The kind that isn’t screaming or overbearing… it’s just there. You don’t even realize it’s there until it shows up.
“We’re going to be late,” she said, but she didn’t seem invested in her statement. “I’ve sent in the tips, and there should be cameras ready for you.”
“For us,” he corrected, standing and offering her his hand. “Then we should go, shouldn’t we?”
She took it, her chest heaving, and nodded. “We should.”
Funny thing, she didn’t release his hand the entire ride to the restaurant.
* * *
The momentthey hit the sidewalk, he knewtheywere screwed.Hewas screwed.
Because two of the women who met them on the sidewalk had Bax bracelets.
Son of a bitch. His method had seemed like a good one at the time, but that was before… back when he was an idiot.
He pulled Courtney to his side, hoping she didn’t notice, but she absolutely noticed. She said nothing, but the little hitch in her step said everything.
“You’re the one I’m with,” he whispered, only for her. “Don’t let them get in your head.”
She nodded. “It’s easier to direct other people than do this myself.”
