Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
SADIE
Horrifically, I woke up with my face smashed into Gideon’s chest and a puddle of drool dripping from my mouth and soaking into his shirt. Both his arms were around me, our legs tangled together. He was hard. I could feel it throbbing against my thigh.
The moment I moved, he released me. “Morning,” he rasped, looking rumpled and sleepy and gorgeous.
I wiped the crusty line of drool at the side of my mouth and shuffled back to my side of the bed. “Morning,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
Gideon sighed. “It’s fine, Sadie.”
“No, I promised not to touch you and—”
“It’s fine.”
I clamped my lips shut, keeping my back to him as I swung my legs off the bed. By the time I was showered and dressed, Gideon was in the kitchen. There was a matcha latte from Knead More Bread waiting for me on the counter. My heart ached as I grabbed it. “Thank you.”
He nodded in response. Then we ate and headed into town.
Gideon ignored me when I suggested that he go to the Marswood Security building and let me work at Life’s a Stitch in peace, so I resigned myself to another day of torture.
I managed to finish cleaning the front of the shop and start sorting through the bits and pieces in the storage room.
Gideon helped me put up curtains at the back of the shop that I would use for a change room when Lola came to try on the muslin draft of her dress.
Jack came by to pick up my phone to see if he could figure out who had sent that text. He returned a few hours later with a grim shake of the head. Nothing.
By the end of the day, the space was clean and ready for me to start working. Despite everything that had happened between me and Gideon and whoever was threatening me, I was excited to make a dress.
Gideon and I cooked together, and then I spent the evening sketching ideas for the construction of her gown while Gideon read on the opposite couch. It was disgustingly domestic and I would’ve loved every minute of it if it hadn’t been absolute torture. Then it was time for bed.
“I’ll take the couch,” I said decisively.
Gideon closed his book and looked at me. “No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.”
“Well—” I planted my hands on my hips, but there was no fight left in me. I followed him to the bedroom and climbed into bed beside him.
Despite all the work I’d done during the day, I wasn’t tired enough to pass out. I couldn’t help tossing and turning. He was so close and so warm and so Gideon.
With a huff, Gideon wrapped a big arm around me, pulled me into the cradle of his body, and grumbled, “Sleep.”
Eventually, with the sound of his easy breathing behind me and the warm weight of his arm wrapped around my body, I slept.
The next day was Grandma Mars’s birthday party.
I had a half-day to start cutting pattern pieces out of muslin, which I did at Life’s a Stitch while Gideon ducked into his company’s office for an hour.
This time, Bennett kept me company, asking a thousand questions about me, my life, sewing, and the plans I had for the shop.
He had an easy smile, and I couldn’t help liking him.
By the time it was time to get ready for the party, I was a little more relaxed. I wondered if Gideon had known his little brother would have that effect on me, and that’s why he’d sent him to be my bodyguard. It would be a very Gideon thing to do, thoughtful and protective and perceptive.
My fingers skimmed over the black fabric that covered my hips, adjusting the fall of my cocktail dress.
I turned to look at the back of my outfit, tweaking the way the one-shoulder strap fell across my chest. My earrings dangled as I moved, and my hair fell in gentle waves to the middle of my back.
I’d taken my time with my makeup, emphasizing my eyes and lips.
With a deep breath and one last look in the mirror, I stepped out of the bedroom.
Gideon turned at my approach, wearing the same suit he’d worn to our wedding ceremony.
The sight of him stopped me short. We looked at each other, and I felt it.
I felt it. The strumming, tightening cord of tension winding around us.
It was there, sliding against the bare skin of my arms, chafing, real.
My lungs constricted. My heart took off.
Gideon took in my appearance with ravenous eyes, then suddenly shuttered his expression. “Ready?” he asked. “We’re nearly late.”
His gruff question was like a slap. And I thought there was a connection? I thought he cared? I blinked rapidly, forced a smile, and nodded. “Let’s go.”
We didn’t speak on the drive there, and the air in the car was thick with tension, but not the delicious, addicting tension I’d felt with him before.
This was strained. Gideon was shutting me out.
For whatever reason, he wasn’t interested in me.
There was some drop of attraction, but he did his best to douse it.
That hurt. Rejection always did, even though I should’ve been used to it by now.
I stared out the window at the purple-navy sky and the deepening shadows between the trees. We drove through town, and I noticed no new sets of breasts decorating the town. Mr. Titty had gone quiet.
If Gideon noticed the same thing, he didn’t say. He said nothing at all, actually, and as we drove toward his grandmother’s house, it felt like he was slowly sucking the oxygen out of the car, leaving me gasping for breath like a fish flopping on the shore.
I had the awful feeling that it was my fault. It was because of Thursday night, when I’d been tipsy and thrown myself at him. And then I’d made it worse by forcing him to cuddle with me every night. He was sick of me.
We drove up to Etta’s house, and I was at once struck by the beauty of her home. In the evening, the garden was illuminated by feature lighting, and the front of the house was dramatic and warm. Cars lined the circle drive, but we parked in the usual spot next to the garages.
Gideon led me through the home and into a big living area where most of the guests had gathered.
It was the same room where the family ended up at the weekly lunches, but the space had been transformed.
One of the large seating areas had been removed, and bar-height tables dotted the space.
They were covered in white tablecloths, with delicate vases full of fresh flowers acting as centerpieces.
Caterers in black vests and bow ties circled with nibbles and drinks.
The doors to the solarium beyond were thrown open, and more guests mingled amid the greenery.
We found Etta holding court at one end of the room.
She wore a glittering black gown cut high on her neck, her white hair swept back from her face to show off two sparkling chandelier earrings that appeared to be real diamonds and sapphires.
She spotted us and shifted her body, and the crowd around her parted to let us through.
She was an expert at commanding a room with nothing more than subtle gestures.
“Happy birthday, Grandma,” Gideon said, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek. The earrings winked in the warm light of the room as they dangled from her lobes.
“Thank you for coming.” She smiled, patting his arm, then turned to me. “You look beautiful, Sadie,” she told me, and I smiled. At least someone had noticed.
“Happy birthday,” I replied. “Thank you so much for having us. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but your home is incredible.”
“Edwin was proud of the place, so I’ve tried to keep it maintained all these years since he died,” she said, naming her late husband.
“But if it were up to me, I’d move to something like that cottage you two are in.
” She smiled and I smiled back, but I didn’t quite believe her.
Etta Mars knew the power of wealth, and she knew what this big home on the edge of town signified to everyone who stepped across the threshold.
It gave her authority. Gave her the right to set up arranged marriages for her grandchildren in the hope of keeping her town on the map.
Her gaze shifted from me to a spot over my shoulder, and it was my turn to move and let another newcomer through.
I watched as a gorgeous blonde swept across the room, drawing every gaze.
Her hair was glossy and golden, her lips full, and her body perfectly curved and taut.
She wore a wine-red dress that hugged her body in a way that was just this side of lewd.
Gideon made a noise beside me. I looked over in time to see his shock, which he quickly wiped from his expression.
The blonde took in the room, then made her way toward us.
“Lenore,” Etta greeted her, and I thought I detected a note of frost in the old woman’s voice. She was so good at hiding it that I wasn’t sure.
“Happy birthday, Grandma Mars,” Lenore answered, kissing the air on either side of Etta’s face. “You look wonderful, as usual.”
“Mm,” Etta replied, eyes sharp. “No husband today?”
“He’s at work, I’m afraid,” Lenore pouted, then turned in mine and Gideon’s direction.
Well. She turned in Gideon’s direction and entirely ignored me. “Gid,” she said, fluttering her lashes.
The jealousy that I’d successfully tamped down after our horrible wedding night suddenly came back with a vengeance. It rose up inside me like a dragon huffing smoke, infecting every corner of my heart.
It was petty and ridiculous and shameful, but I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, and she knew him. Suddenly, I was sure they’d slept together. Was she the ex Mrs. Gretzinger had alluded to? Or some other conquest of his?
She walked over to where we stood.
“Lenore,” Gideon greeted, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. “You’re back.”