Chapter 5
FIVE
Letty
I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. Scratch that— I know I’ve never been this nervous. My hands are fidgeting in my lap as I sit on the edge of the couch, waiting for Hugh to pick me up.
“All set?” Lilou asks as she gathers her things.
She has to head to work in a few. She’s on the night shift at Wet and Wild today, but she spent this afternoon helping me get ready for tonight.
“Yeah, I think so.”
She gives me a hopeful look, and I smile weakly back at her.
It’s just dinner, I remind myself. A simple, innocent dinner.
Except nothing about this feels simple or innocent. Not when I’ve been harboring a crush on Hugh Walters since the day I walked into his office eight months ago.
“Good luck. Call me if you need anything,” Lilou says as she wraps me up in a tight hug.
“I will,” I promise. “Have fun at work.”
She snorts, and I grin.
“Just you and all of those sex toys,” I say wistfully and she laughs.
“It’s truly a dream come true,” she says with a straight face.
“Maybe Milo will show up,” I say and her cheeks heat.
“I doubt it,” she grumbles.
“Really? Isn’t he like always popping by?”
“No. Not always,” she says, her eyes darting to the front door.
“Really? I feel like he’s always following you around.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“When are you going to give him a chance?” I ask her.
“He’s not seriously into me. And I’m not trying to get my heart broken so…”
She trails off, grabbing her jacket and zipping it all of the way up.
“Drive safe,” I tell her, and she nods.
“Have fun.”
We share a smile, and then she’s out the door, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
I glance at myself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down the front of my dress. It’s black and fitted, hugging my curves in a way that feels daring but not over the top. My blonde hair falls in loose waves over my shoulders, and I’ve kept my makeup soft, just enough to highlight my pale green eyes and full lips.
When I hear the low rumble of his car pulling into the driveway, my stomach flips. Taking a deep breath, I grab my coat and oversized purse and head for the door. I may have also packed a change of clothes in my bag, in case things go well tonight. I just want to be prepared for anything.
Hugh is waiting when I step outside, leaning casually against the sleek black car parked at the curb. The sight of him steals my breath—his broad shoulders filling out a tailored navy suit, his dark blue eyes bright against the backdrop of the fading evening light.
“Letty,” he says, his voice warm and deep as he straightens and steps toward me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I reply, my cheeks heating under his gaze. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He smiles, holding the car door open for me. “Shall we?”
I nod, slipping into the passenger seat. The interior of the car smells like leather and something distinctly Hugh —a mix of cedar and clean, crisp air.
As he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, I glance at him, my nerves bubbling to the surface. “So, where are we going?”
“There’s a steakhouse in town,” he says, glancing at me with a small smile. “I thought it might be a good place to start.”
“Sounds perfect,” I reply, my voice softer than I intended.
The drive to the restaurant is quiet at first, the kind of silence that feels charged rather than awkward. I steal glances at him as he drives, admiring the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his hands grip the steering wheel with quiet confidence.
“So,” I say finally, needing to break the silence, “is this the part where we pretend we don’t already know each other?”
He chuckles, the sound low and rich. “I think it’s safe to say we know each other pretty well by now. Or at least, I thought I did.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you surprised me,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “I never expected to see you at that auction.”
I shift in my seat, heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah, well… desperate times, desperate measures.”
He glances at me, his expression softening. “You don’t have to explain. I just— Letty, if you ever need help, you can come to me. You know that, right?”
“I do now,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
The restaurant comes into view before I can say anything else, its warm lights glowing against the backdrop of Wolf Valley’s snowy streets. Hugh parks the car and comes around to open my door, offering his hand as I step out.
The gesture is simple, but the way his fingers curl around mine sends a shiver down my spine.
The hostess greets us with a smile and leads us to a cozy booth near the fireplace. The warm, rustic decor of the steakhouse is a perfect contrast to the cold, snowy night outside.
“This is nice,” I say as we settle into our seats.
Hugh nods, his gaze lingering on me. “I’m glad you think so.”
A waiter appears, taking our drink orders—red wine for me, whiskey for Hugh—and leaving us with menus.
I study mine with far more focus than necessary, aware of Hugh’s eyes on me.
“Letty,” he says after a moment, his voice pulling my attention away from the menu.
“Yeah?”
“Are you nervous?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re holding that menu like it’s a lifeline,” he says, his lips twitching with amusement.
I glance down, realizing my knuckles are white from gripping the edges of the menu. With a sheepish laugh, I set it down. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.”
“You don’t have to be,” he says softly. “It’s just me.”
That’s the problem, I think, though I don’t say it out loud.
Instead, I smile, trying to push past my nerves. “So, Hugh Walters, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise, but he leans back in his seat, considering my question. “Alright. Something you don’t already know…” He pauses, a small smile playing on his lips. “I once got kicked out of a high school dance for fighting.”
I blink. “You? Mr. Calm and Collected?”
He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that makes my stomach flutter. “I wasn’t always calm and collected. But in my defense, the other guy started it.”
“Why were you fighting?” I ask, intrigued.
“He said something he shouldn’t have about one of my foster sisters,” he says simply, his expression darkening slightly.
My heart softens at the mention of his foster family. I’ve heard bits and pieces about his time in the foster care system, but he’s always been careful not to share too much.
“That’s sweet, in a way,” I say. “Defending her like that.”
He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Family looks out for each other. That’s just how it is.”
The waiter returns with our drinks and takes our orders. Hugh gets the steak, and I order the salmon. Once he’s gone, I take a sip of my wine, the warmth of it settling my nerves.
“Your turn,” Hugh says, his gaze steady on mine.
“My turn for what?”
“To tell me something I don’t already know about you.”
I hesitate, trying to think of something worth sharing. Finally, I settle on something that feels safe enough. “Okay, here’s one. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a ballerina.”
He tilts his head, his dark blue eyes lighting up with amusement. “A ballerina? Not an assistant?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “I even had the tutu and everything. But let’s just say grace was never my strong suit.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his voice warm.
“It’s true,” I insist. “I was terrible. My mom even had videos of my first recital—complete with me tripping over my own feet and taking out two other kids in the process.”
He laughs, the sound filling the space between us. “I’d pay good money to see that.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, pointing a finger at him, though I’m smiling.
As the night goes on, the conversation flows more easily, the initial awkwardness fading. Hugh tells me stories about his time in the Marines, and I share memories of my childhood—both the good and the not-so-good.
With every word, I feel myself softening toward him, my crush morphing into something deeper, something I can’t quite put a name to.
When the food arrives, we eat slowly, savoring both the meal and the company. Hugh watches me as I talk, his expression attentive, as if every word I say matters.
By the time we finish dessert—a shared slice of chocolate cake—I’m not ready for the night to end.
“Do you want to take a walk?” Hugh asks as we step outside into the crisp night air.
I glance at the snow-covered streets, the soft glow of the streetlights making the town look almost magical. “I’d like that.”
We walk side by side, our breaths visible in the cold air. Hugh keeps a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me along the icy sidewalk.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say after a while, glancing up at him.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replies, his voice soft. “I wanted to do this. I wanted to spend time with you.”
My heart skips, and I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond.
“You mean a lot to me, Letty,” he continues, his gaze steady on mine.
“You mean a lot to me too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
We stop walking, the snow falling softly around us, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.
Hugh reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.
“Letty,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
“Yes?”
He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. But before he can say anything, I rise onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you,” I say again, my cheeks burning.
For a moment, he looks stunned, his dark blue eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice warm with promise.
As we head back to the car, my heart feels lighter than it has in months.
Maybe that auction will be the best thing to ever happen to me.