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I stared at the screen, scrolling through the notifications. Clients. All of them clients. Messages and voicemails piling up from people I’d been neglecting for days. Weeks, maybe, if I was being honest with myself.

There was a text from one of my bigger entertainment clients, asking if I was still alive. I’d been slacking. Badly.

For all my talk about this relationship not complicating things, I’d been completely distracted since Darcy came into my life. I liked my job. Loved it. But I was mostly a one-man show. I had an assistant and a paralegal. If I had a big case, I hired extra help. But I hadn’t done that. I pushed meetings back. Spending my days thinking about her instead of focusing on the work that paid my bills.

I should have felt guilty. I’d busted ass to get the practice I have now. I was young and knew I needed to prove myself. That meant I spent a lot of time working. At least, I used to.

I put my career first, to maintain the professional reputation I’d spent years building. I’d deal with the work stuff tomorrow. Return the calls, answer the emails, and get back on track with my clients. I was good at my job. I could catch up. I always did.

But tonight, I just wanted to hold on to this feeling a little longer. I wanted to shower and then lie in bed thinking about seeing her again. I was certain that what was happening between us was worth every distraction. I’d deal with every complication. Accept every risk.

She was worth it.

I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick text.

Me: Get home safe?

Darcy: Just walked in. Thanks again for today. I had fun.

Me: Me too. Sleep well.

Darcy: You too. Goodnight, Beau.

I smiled at the screen like an idiot, then headed upstairs. I burst into laughter when I saw the mess we’d left. I stripped the sheets, still damp and covered in sand.

Damn, it had been a good day.

28

DARCY

The day of Jeremy’s send-off dinner, I stood in front of my closet and decided I had nothing to wear. Yes, my closet was bigger than some apartments. And every rack and shelf were filled.

But I had nothing. Ever since I met Beau, I had looked at my closet differently. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of clothes and I had nothing to wear to a basic dinner.

I shoved aside a navy dress that screamed corporate boardroom. This wasn’t a board meeting. It was a family dinner. Beau’s family dinner.

I held up a flowy floral sundress and immediately put it back. I’d look like I was trying too hard to seem casual. Did I wear jeans? No. Definitely too casual.

They were Hollywood royalty. Were they all going to show up dressed for the red carpet? I thought about Cleo. The family I met at the gala.

Finally, I grabbed a simple black dress from the back of my closet. It was elegant but understated. Not too dressy, not too casual. The kind of thing that could work for almost any occasion. Safe. Boring, maybe, but safe.

I pulled it on and stared at my reflection. Okay. This would work. This had to work because I was officially out of time.

Then came the hair crisis. Up? Down? Half up? I twisted it into my usual tight braid, then immediately undid it. The braid felt like I should be putting on actual armor and heading into a battle.

But down felt too casual. Too messy.

I tried a low bun. Too severe. A high ponytail. Too cheerleader.

I was being fucking ridiculous. It was hair for a family dinner. It was not a formal event.

I glanced at the clock and my stomach dropped. I was going to be late.

Screw it.

I left my hair down, ran my fingers through it a few times to smooth out the worst of the tangles, and grabbed my purse.