Chapter 49
F rom the moment the plane landed, the first day of the conference in Park City, Utah, is all-encompassing.
The location, a five-star ski lodge resort, is so beautiful.
I’ve never been out West, and the mountain views from our room are insane.
Though, we’ve barely spent a moment there.
Where we’re staying is more like a palatial chalet than a hotel room.
It’s another reminder of the life Adam leads.
It’s the type of life I’ve been working toward, manifesting.
“What do you think about this look?” I ask Adam after changing into wide-leg cream palazzo pants with a white button-down tucked in.
“It’s cute, but I think a dress will play better with the crowd.”
“With you?” I tease.
“Definitely with me. This event is a sausage party, though. Why not lean into it?”
“How feminist.”
“You asked me for advice. I’m sharing what’s best for your business.”
I roll my eyes, but I guess he has a point. Changing into a sleeveless sheath dress that hits right above the knee, I raise my brows for approval.
“Much better.”
I make a stink face, not liking playing into gender norms and sex appeal.
Wearing a name badge that says Dani Sommer Public Relations makes what I’m doing feel so real.
I almost can’t believe I’m networking at one of the most coveted conferences for business moguls.
I would never have been let in the room without Adam, but now that I’m here, I want to take full advantage of it.
Allison serves as our guide, making sure we attend the talks and panels Adam highlighted. She plays interference when a conversation starts to go too long, which happens often with Adam. Everyone wants to know his opinions.
Returning from the bathroom, I see Adam is still droning on with some guy about how China’s recession will be worse than ours. Allison is about to swoop in. Maybe they have a hand signal or something for when she needs to interrupt?
I spot Declan across the resort’s ballroom. In the sea of men, he’s one of the tallest, like Adam. We make eye contact, and he starts toward me. He didn’t change, wearing the same business casual look from the plane.
Staring at his perfectly messy, styled blond hair, I ask, “Where’s your assistant?”
“I don’t need to pay pretty women to be around me.”
“Then what am I doing here?” I smirk, tilting my chin up. If I could smack myself … Dani! That was fucking flirty and exactly the chemistry Adam was calling into question.
He smiles, staring into my eyes. It’s a smile like I’ve never seen from him. I’ve seen smirks and half-smiles, but I’ve never seen a smile like this one. It’s lighthearted and … fun? Two words I would never use to describe Declan.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Maybe he found some new business partnership, or crypto is on the rise again.
“Sober is a really good look on you,” he says, his words barely a whisper, yet they hit me with the force of a shout. It’s a reminder of the path he’s chosen—a path that I don’t need to take.
“Utah,” I deflect. “Seems like a place you would like a lot.”
“Firm pass on Jesus.” That smile still on his face. “So, I don’t think I would do well here.”
“You didn’t find him when you went sober?”
He’s never told me why he doesn’t drink or even ingest caffeine.
But I know enough about the rehab process to smell it on someone.
Plus, he’s so fucking evangelizing. I replay some of the things he’s said to me.
“Dani, you’d be undeniable if you were sober.
” “Dani, what are you doing with your life?” Dani, blah blah blah.
He fucking did the twelve-step bullshit, I know it.
“Light networking conversation,” he sarcastically says. His face returns to the familiar tension, and I nearly laugh at how he confirms my internal monologue. But it only makes me more curious about him.
“We could talk about politics instead.” I gaze up at him.
He’s easily a foot taller than me, even with the chunky heels I’m wearing.
Our banter continues, but there’s a tension, a push and pull.
Every word, every glance, is loaded with a history and a dance that we are both more interested in each other than we want to let on.
“We should talk about why you hard pivoted out of Shirts.”
“I chose the wrong business partner.” I shrug. “And it’s time for me to do something all on my own.”
“If you started another menswear line, I’d back you. These are my favorite shirts.” He pulls at the shirt he’s wearing—one from our third collection.
One thing I’m not going to dive into is why he owns so many Shirts. I feel like that will send us down a spiral. I’ll stay nice and friendly with him and show Adam that we can be cordial with each other.
“Pass. I don’t want to start another fashion line. It’s a grind with low margins.”
He nods, agreeing.
“I loved the marketing side of it,” I share. “But everything else. It wasn’t for me. That’s why I want to focus on marketing—especially PR.”
“You’re very good at understanding the big picture and translating that into sound bites.”
I deflect the praise by asking, “Have you seen a coffee station anywhere?”
“Utah,” he says in a laugh.
“Ugh, really?”
“Half the guys here are in that world,” he says low. “Be mindful of that in your conversations.”
“You probably just saved my ass.” I giggle and notice Declan’s eyes glance down at me, checking me out.
“Stop,” I whisper.
“If you insist.” He’s blatantly flirting with me.
My eyes shoot daggers at him. I’m officially sweating. This conversation has gone too far, too fast. “I want to pay you back,” I say after a moment.
“No. Absolutely not.”
If I paid Declan back, maybe I wouldn’t feel this tension when I’m with him.
“Come on. It was too much.”
He sighs, then changes the subject. “Is something wrong with your bike?”
“No,” I say, too defensively.
“It hasn’t moved since you’ve been back. Why aren’t you riding?”
“That’s a really stalker thing to say.” I laugh, deflecting how he’s keeping tabs on me. But how does he know that? I fight the urge to say I’ve been riding something else. “It’s not my thing anymore.” It feels like a lie saying it. I’ve been so caught up in Adam, I haven’t thought about riding.
“I doubt that,” he says, his eyes challenging my lie. “I don’t get you,” his voice nearly whispers. “Are you dating Adam because he’s Adam Harris , or do you have a thing for old guys?”
“Old guys?” I raise my brow at him, then sass, “You’re in your thirties.”
“Yeah. Not forties.”
“I’m not justifying why I’m with my boyfriend to you.”
He shakes his head, biting his thumbnail, not liking my response. Declan bends down, whispering in my ear, “I’ve never deleted any of the texts you sent me.”
I jab him in the ribs with my finger, reflexively, and he walks away with a soft chuckle. Does he realize the landmine he threw? He’s never deleted any of my texts? My mind flashes to the lingerie selfie I sent him.
“Fuck,” I huff. He’s fucking flirting with me! Here. Of all places. It seriously cannot be because I haven’t had a drink today. Can it?