Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nick eased the Jaguar into one of the last remaining spots in the gravel lot, fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel before shutting off the engine. He removed the key but didn’t move, his gaze shifting to the clear, endless stretch of sky above them.
The often-unpredictable northeastern Colorado weather had cooperated beautifully—balmy temperatures, no clouds in sight.
“You couldn’t have picked a more perfect day for a company picnic.” Taylor’s voice was light, but the underlying apprehension was unmistakable.
She had faced situations like this before—as a politician’s daughter, she had mastered the art of smiling through scrutiny.
But this was different.
This time, it wasn’t her father’s colleagues watching her.
It was Nick’s.
And their judgment would not be about policy or campaigns—but about her.
“The date is picked a year in advance,” Nick said, finally shifting in his seat. “That way everyone can plan ahead.”
Taylor nodded, sifting through memories. “Now that you mention it, I remember seeing something about a picnic in my welcome packet when I was first hired.”
Nick smirked. “It’s a big deal.”
Taylor raised a skeptical brow. “A company picnic?”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out, rounding the front of the car before opening her door.
“Just wait,” he murmured, offering his hand. “You’ll see.”
His fingers closed around hers.
The warmth sent a jolt up her arm, and it took every ounce of self-control not to pull away.
Her body had never reacted this way before—not even with Tony, her best friend.
Her heart picked up speed, a flutter of excitement and panic tingling up her spine.
She was twenty-six, not sixteen.
She should be able to stand next to a man without feeling like her entire world had tilted on its axis.
So why did Nick’s presence—his touch—throw her off balance?
She had always been good at hiding emotions, especially the troublesome ones.
So she did what she did best.
She smiled.
She let him help her out of the low-slung sports car, ignoring the subtle, musky scent of his cologne.
They strolled down a mulch-strewn path, the soft scent of pine and damp earth filling the air. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, casting shifting patterns across the winding trail.
A ground squirrel darted across the path.
Taylor turned, delighted, lifting her face toward Nick’s as she reached out—fingertips brushing his shoulder.
“Did you?—”
She never finished the sentence.
Nick’s lips found hers.
The question—the moment—the entire world—ceased to exist.
It was a brief kiss. Soft. Undemanding.
But her heart lurched all the same.
His fingers grazed her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
A tender gesture.
She couldn’t breathe.
“That’s better,” he murmured.
“Better?” Her voice was unsteady. “What do you mean better?”
His gaze swept over her, slow and knowing.
“You have that ‘I’ve just been kissed’ look.” His voice dropped slightly. “Now you look like a woman in love.”
In love?
She wanted to laugh, but the tightness in her throat made it impossible.
Before she could form a response, his dimple flashed.
“On second thought…”
He dipped his head again.
And this time, when his mouth covered hers, the world truly fell away.
There was no acting in this kiss.
No script.
No performance.
Just warmth.
Just Nick.
She curled her arms around his neck, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath her fingers.
His hand splayed against the small of her back, drawing her closer.
The scent of pine, cologne, and something distinctly Nick surrounded her, drowning her in a moment she hadn’t planned for.
Then—
“All right, you two. Break it up.”
Taylor jerked back, her breath ragged—or at least, she tried to pull back.
Nick’s arms didn’t budge.
Unlike her, he looked completely unruffled, his only reaction a slow shift of his gaze toward the interruption.
“Erik.”
Nick’s voice held the slightest hint of irritation.
“Shouldn’t you be manning the grill or something?”
Erik leaned casually against a tree, arms folded, his grin full of mischief.
“I’d rather watch you.”
Taylor laughed—she couldn’t help it.
She had only met Erik a few times, but something told her this was classic Erik.
“Nick and I were just discussing the picnic,” she said, regretting the words the second they left her mouth.
Nick’s brow lifted, lips twitching.
Erik laughed outright.
“Let me guess,” Erik said. “We’re having a kissing booth, and Nick was just checking to see if you’d be worth a dollar a pop?”
“Erik.” Nick’s tone carried a low warning.
Erik ignored him completely.
His eyes raked over Taylor’s outfit, the fitted jeans, the sleeveless top.
For a split second, she wondered if she had chosen wrong.
They had looked fine in the mirror at home, but under Erik’s scrutiny, she suddenly wasn’t so sure.
“I’d be happy to help with the research,” Erik teased, reaching for her arm. “Give a second opinion.”
“Don’t even try it.”
Nick’s voice was light, but the warning in his blue eyes was deadly serious.
Erik’s hand dropped.
But instead of looking offended, his grin widened.
“All right, have it your way.”
Nick moved his arm so Taylor’s hand slid down to his, locking his fingers around hers.
They started down the path again, Erik falling in step behind them.
“You get a good crowd?” Nick asked.
“You bet,” Erik said. “Even Miss Dietrich showed up this year.”
Nick stopped abruptly.
“She did?”
Taylor frowned. “She hasn’t come before?”
Nick’s expression softened. “Not since my father died.”
The weight of that statement settled over them.
“Well,” Erik muttered, “I wish she’d stayed away. She’s been hounding me about when we’re eating.”
Nick’s lips twitched.
“All right, let’s go.”
But before he did, he lowered his mouth to hers again.
Taylor stiffened at the public display—but when she met Nick’s gaze, something in it made her forget why she had ever resisted.
“Nick,” Erik cleared his throat. “Think about the meat.”
Nick lingered just a second longer, then finally smirked.
“I’m ready.”
* * *
The picnic was unlike any Taylor had ever attended. She’d expected the long rows of tables covered with red and white cloths, overflowing with salads to satisfy any and all tastes. The chips were there, too, along with the roasted sweet corn and watermelon. It took three tables to handle all the pies, and Taylor’s mouth watered at the sight of a pumpkin pie with pecan streusel topping.
Nick didn’t let her linger near the tempting buffet or the employees who were stealing glances in their direction.
Instead, he led her—past the curious eyes of the crowd, past the small clusters of co-workers whispering amongst themselves, and past Miss Dietrich, whose expression was as unyielding as ever.
They stopped before a raised platform, and Nick gestured toward the two small wooden steps leading up to it.
Taylor hesitated.
Nick gave her hand a small squeeze. “Come on.”
She climbed onto the raw plywood stage, and Nick moved quickly to stand beside her. A hush settled over the picnic grounds.
Everyone had been waiting for him.
For them.
Her guilt intensified.
Then Nick spoke.
And the moment he did, the tension vanished.
He started with a joke, easing the expectant crowd into laughter, before seamlessly shifting into what they had all been waiting to hear.
“You all know how much this company means to me.”
His deep, confident voice carried easily over the gathered employees and their families.
“I never thought I’d find anything that mattered as much to me. But—” He turned to Taylor, his expression softening just enough to be convincing.
“I was wrong.”
The crowd stilled.
Nick’s lips curved into a smile, the perfect blend of humble and sincere.
“When I met Taylor Rollins, it was no contest.”
A ripple of excitement spread through the audience.
“And, although we’ll be formally announcing our engagement in a few weeks, I wanted all of you to be the first to know.” He pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist.
The cheers erupted.
Taylor plastered on what she hoped was a properly adoring expression.
Nick glanced at her—his eyes assessing, searching for any sign that she wasn’t fully committed to the role.
Whatever he saw in her face must have satisfied him, because he gave her a subtle nod of approval before locking their hands together.
His smile remained easy, his posture relaxed, but Taylor wasn’t fooled.
His grip was a little too tight.
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
He wasn’t as calm as he appeared.
Taylor had grown up with a politician, a supremely confident man who never let on when he had worries or doubts.
She recognized the act.
And something about that realization made her feel closer to Nick than she had before.
Impulsively, she turned and kissed him lightly on the mouth.
For a fraction of a second, surprise flickered in his eyes.
Then, he responded.
His arms tightened, and he pulled her fully against him.
“Nick—” she started, but he silenced her with another kiss.
It was an exquisite kiss, his lips lingering, sending a slow, delicious warmth through her veins.
The crowd roared their approval.
When he finally released her, his expression held something… different.
Something tender.
Taylor’s breath caught.
She forced herself to smile and wave to the crowd.
At the edge of the gathering, Miss Dietrich stood with arms crossed, her gaze unreadable.
“Let’s eat,” Nick said smoothly.
As if on cue, the employees and their families scattered toward the food-laden tables.
Taylor let her shoulders slump in relief. The hard part was over.
Nick gave her hand one last squeeze. “You did good.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” she said with a sigh. “My stomach is churning.”
“That’s because—” he guided her gently toward the food tables “—you’re hungry.”
She rolled her eyes but let him lead her toward the tantalizing scent of barbecue.
The massive metal smoker loomed ahead, and Taylor realized where Erik had disappeared to once they’d reached the picnic ground. Resplendent in a chef’s hat and apron, the attorney stood behind the grill, handing out platters of ribs and barbecued beef with dramatic flair.
Taylor’s stomach growled, and she had to admit that maybe Nick was right. Maybe she was just hungry.
“Mr. Lanagan.”
Taylor turned and vaguely recognized the man—someone from her brief time at the company—who stopped them.
“I hate to interrupt, but could I speak with you a minute?”
Nick hesitated.
She could see the conflict in his expression—his promise not to desert her warring with his business instincts.
Taylor smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
Taylor took her place in line and filled her plate to the point of overflowing. She balanced it carefully in one hand, gripping a tall plastic cup of iced tea in the other.
The picnic tables were rapidly filling, and Taylor glanced around looking for a place to squeeze in.
“You’re welcome to join me, if you like.” The perfectly modulated voice sounded from her right.
Taylor turned.
Miss Dietrich.
Her stomach tightened. They’d barely exchanged ten words since they’d met, but the woman still intimidated her.
She was set to politely decline the offer, but then she noticed the empty space beside Miss Dietrich—how no one had joined her table. Before she could overthink it, Taylor carefully lowered her plate and cup to the table’s rough surface, then slid onto the bench opposite the woman.
She dropped a paper napkin onto her lap and lifted her gaze to find Miss Dietrich staring unabashedly.
Startled, Taylor shifted her gaze and popped a chip in her mouth.
Miss Dietrich hesitated for a second, then grabbed a chip from her own plate and took a bite. “The sour cream and onion are my favorite.”
The tension in Taylor’s shoulders eased slightly. Away from the domain of her office, the woman actually seemed pleasant.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d thought.
Taylor picked up another chip, holding it loosely in her fingers. “You’ve known Nick for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Since he was a little boy,” Miss Dietrich said matter-of-factly. “I was his father’s secretary for over twenty years.”
“What was he like?” Though the barbecued beef on her plate beckoned, the desire to learn more about Nick overpowered her appetite.
“Nick? Or his father?”
“Both.”
Miss Dietrich dabbed the corners of her mouth with the edge of her napkin. “Nick was a sweet, serious little boy. He adored his father.”
“It sounds like they were very close.”
“As close as they could be.” Miss Dietrich replied carefully.
“But what about Nick’s mom?” Taylor asked. “Where did she fit into his life?”
Miss Dietrich’s lips pursed slightly.
“Mr. Lanagan was a good man. He did?—”
Before she could finish, Nick slid onto the bench beside Taylor, his arm draping casually around her shoulders.
“My two favorite ladies.”
Miss Dietrich looked away.
Taylor forced her focus back to the conversation, pushing aside the way Nick’s arm felt too natural draped across her shoulders.
“Miss Dietrich was just telling me about your father’s accomplishments,” she said, her voice carefully even. “It sounds like he was a remarkable man.”
Nick nodded, his expression shifting into something deeper, unreadable.
“He was,” he said simply.
For a moment, something flickered in his blue gaze—respect, pride… and something else she couldn’t quite name.
“He was the reason Lanagan Associates flourished. It took a lot of time and effort, but to him, it was worth it. The company wasn’t just his job—it was his life.”
Taylor turned her gaze toward Miss Dietrich, expecting confirmation.
But the older woman remained silent, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
The question nagged at her. The one Miss Dietrich had sidestepped earlier.
She turned back to Nick.
“But what about you and your mom?”
A small shadow passed over his expression, but it was gone so fast, she almost thought she imagined it.
Nick shrugged, reaching across the table and grabbing a potato chip from her plate like they did this every day.
“We understood. Or at least, I did.”
His tone was calm, matter-of-fact.
“Dad always said that for a business to be a success, it has to come before anything else in a man’s life.”
Taylor nodded as if what he’d said made perfect sense—instead of being the exact opposite of everything she believed in her soul.
She wanted to ask him if he truly believed that, too.
Wanted to challenge the cold finality in his words.
Wanted to point out that success without love meant nothing.
But the weight of Miss Dietrich’s presence made her hesitate.
And besides, did it really matter?
She wasn’t marrying him.
This was temporary. A business arrangement.
When she really did get married, it would be to a man who shared her faith and her values.
A man who put family before his career.
A man who loved her with his whole heart.
She took a slow breath, letting the thought ground her.
Then, against her better judgment, she glanced at Nick.
And sighed.
And maybe—if it wasn’t too much to ask—if she was really lucky…
That man would be as handsome as Nick Lanagan.