33. Ashton
ASHTON
T he day after our surprise helicopter date, Luke sent out a formal press announcement sharing that America’s sweetheart couple would be making an appearance together at the gala.
Social media went into a frenzy, blowing up the post and sharing it everywhere.
Our five hundred guest slots filled within twenty-four hours.
Now, two weeks later, I stand in front of Wren’s full-length mirror—all powdered, coiffed, and adorned to perfection—fit for a regency ball.
My high-waisted dress is a deep crimson with golden accents that complement my blonde hair.
My long hair is pulled into a bun with a crown braid atop my head.
Soft tendrils frame my face. While the dress flows loosely around my legs, allowing flexible movement, the bodice is anything but.
My breasts are pressed upward toward high-heaven.
A smile teases my lips at the thought of Griffin’s appreciation to the costume designer.
More than anything, I’d love for the two of us to arrive together at the gala tonight, especially since that last two weeks had felt like we were an exclusive couple. But logistically, attending a public event with me would be a nightmare for Griffin to explain while having a girlfriend.
Since I was publicly connected to the Rhodeses in the viral social media post, we couldn’t not invite them.
Which means Griffin will be playing his role of devoted boyfriend publicly for two more nights—tonight and his show’s premiere event next week.
I don’t count the three weeks they’ll still be under contract post-premiere of the show as Griffin promised there would be no more public dates, aside from sharing a couple of pictures of the two of them together.
Two more nights.
Then he can be all mine.
I can handle that. Mostly.
I wait in the foyer of Wren’s house for the ride Griffin arranged since he’ll be arriving at the red carpet with Scarlet.
I fiddle with my gloved fingers, nervous anticipation making my palms sweat.
With such an astounding number of guests, the ballroom will be filled to its maximum capacity.
I pray their hearts will be just as big as their wallets and The Rescue Ranch will be fully funded by the end of the night.
Movement outside the front window catches my eye. A long, sleek black limo pulls into the driveway. A man dressed in a grey, fitted suit rounds the car and stands by the rear door, crossing his hands in front. I step outside.
“Are you Ms. Reid?”
“I am.”
“Wonderful. I’m Winston, your driver for the evening. If you please.” He opens the rear door. Winston has short-cropped dark hair, accented by several grey sections, making me guess he’s in his mid-fifties.
I slip into the limo. “Thank you, Winston.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He shuts the door behind me.
I fall into cavernous darkness despite the daylight outside.
My chariot for the evening possesses windows darker than black ink.
I wish Wren was able to ride with me, then my nerves wouldn’t be so out of control.
Her band will also be arriving together as part of the red-carpet experience.
We’re capitalizing on her fame as an up-and-coming pop celebrity being a supporter and board member of The Rescue Ranch.
We scheduled press to snap photos and help spread the word about the event and its cause.
The partition between Winston and me is closed. I find a button on the ceiling, allowing me to lower it. “When we get to the venue, would you mind dropping me off at the rear entrance, please?”
“You’ve got it, miss.”
I drop my hand and lean against the seat, looking out the limo at each passing palm tree, the traffic surprisingly light.
We hired an event photographer for the gala.
I dread this aspect, but know it’s necessary for publicity since we have to capitalize on tonight as much as possible.
I’m savoring this peace before having my picture taken a million times tonight.
The last two weeks since starting my social media account have gone surprisingly well.
I’ve grown a steady following of people genuinely wanting to learn more about the animal community, The Rescue Ranch, and training tips.
Though there are still the occasional trolls with some less-than-favorable comments about my connection to Scarlet and Griffin.
My sister and I have chatted often. She helped design the invitations and social media posts for the event. She pressed me to allow her to post on her old socials about the rescue, but I didn’t want anything tying her—and my past—to the ranch.
Winston’s sunglasses pop into the rearview mirror. “Nervous, miss?”
I huff a laugh. “You could say that.”
“Well, you look beautiful. I’m sure the evening will be a smashing success.”
Griffin said Winston is his go-to driver for any special events. Griffin gave him a few details about tonight’s event.
I rest my hand on my midsection. “I sure hope so,” I half-mumble to myself.
We drive to the back entrance where I notified the facility’s staff I would be arriving.
Winston steps out of the limo and comes around to open my door.
“Thank you for the ride, Winston.”
He nods his head. “My pleasure, ma’am. I’ll be in the parking lot all night for whenever you’re ready to return home.” He hands me a business card. “Just call or text that number, and I’ll pull up to the entrance in a jiffy.”
“All night? What are you going to do sitting in a car?”
He smiles like I’m a sweet, naive child. “I’ll be just fine, miss. Thank you for your concern.”
I lean close and whisper, “I’ll sneak you some food later.”
He chuckles. “Thank you, ma’am. That won’t be necessary.” He tips his hat to me, then cups his hand to his mouth. “But I do appreciate something sweet now and then.” He winks conspiratorially.
I laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Once inside, I walk down the corridor. A few staff members pop in and out of various doors, oblivious to my entrance.
My heels clack against the tiles. I kick my long dress outward, deliberate and careful with each step.
My ankle has healed, but I’m extra cautious, not wanting to risk spraining it again in the monstrosities I’m sporting tonight.
While they’re only two-inch heels, they’re definitely not my usual sneakers. I might as well be walking on stilts.
“Hey, beautiful.” Griffin emerges from the darkness of an alcove, pushing off the wall as though he’d been waiting there just for me.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Scarlet?” My eyes travel from his gorgeous face to his black tuxedo—crisp and tailored to a T—his body filling it out perfectly.
“I will be. But I wanted to see you first.” He places a hand in his pocket, looking nervous but oh-so-debonair.
I race to him and wrap my arms around his neck. My lips merge with his as though we’ve done this meeting a million times.
He inhales deeply, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ve missed you.”
“I was at your house just three hours ago.”
“And it’s never felt so empty.”
His words turn my bones into butter. “Roxy and the pups aren’t enough company for you?”
“It’s not the same as being with you.” He nuzzles into my neck, kissing me softly.
I wriggle from his hold. “You better stop it, or you’re going to muss my hair before this event even gets started.”
He chuckles. “Fine by me.” He clasps my hand and starts walking toward the exit.
I snicker and tug his hand. “Griffin Calvin Ford, don’t be so ornery.”
He laughs and spins around, facing me again. “Yes, ma’am.” His gaze travels from my head to my toes. He releases a low whistle. “Look at you. You do not disappoint. Hot.”
My entire body inflames to the tips of my ears, but instead of denying his unwavering attention, I embrace it. “Thank you.”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I know.” He tugs me to him, my inordinately voluptuous bosom bumping into him. “I’m so proud of you. Tonight is going to be amazing.”
“You think so?” Being here in the empty venue hours before the doors will officially open, I have a fear no one will show up.
He tilts his head. “Hey, get outta that pretty head of yours. I know what you’re thinking.”
I huff. “I doubt that.”
“You’re wondering if anyone is going to show up.”
“How—”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” He rubs my back. “I know you. And I also know tonight will be such a huge success that you’ll be thanking me for days—weeks—years afterward.”
I thump his chest. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm. And I’ve already got a list of ways you can thank me.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, I’ll bet you do. Let’s just get through tonight first and see how it goes.”
“Deal.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Want to see the final product?” He tips his head toward the ballroom doors.
“Yes.”
He loops my hand through his arm, tucking me closer to him.
We only saw the venue that one time during the day.
In the evening, the place is absolutely stunning.
Transformative. Magical. Giant spotlights illuminate the dance floor in the middle of the room, along with the elevated stage next to it.
The tables all have white linens with tall vases filled with white delphiniums. The silverware and plates are gold, giving the setting a classic look.
A photo booth with a backdrop that reads, A Royal Rescue, and various photo props are set up in the corner.
A short picket fence has been erected in another corner for the adoptable dogs that’ll arrive shortly.
At the entrance doors, there’s a large poster board explaining The Rescue Ranch, our mission statement, and our board members: myself, Lynn, Griffin, Luke, and Wren. My favorite people all listed together. Just over a month ago, I almost thought this was never going to be possible.
I step fully into the room and turn in a circle. Tears prick my eyes at the absolute perfection of this momentous occasion.
Arms encase my waist from behind. “Is it everything you hoped for?”
“And more.”
As guests arrive, I greet each one as they enter the ballroom.
Lynn and Luke accompany me in the formal receiving line as fellow board members.
Griffin has yet to arrive with Scarlet. Wren took the stage as soon as the doors opened.
I slap a smile on my face and make more eye contact in one night than I have in an entire year.
I attempt to ignore the anxiety churning in my stomach.
Wren croons beautiful lyrics from the stage, completely in her element. Her red hair and plum gown are aglow under the sharp spotlights.
Luke leans toward me and whispers, “You’re doing great.”
I smile, knowing this is near torture for him too, as a man of few words. Most of his interactions tonight have been a brief handshake and a simple “Welcome.”
My palms sweat the moment I see Scarlet and Griffin enter the line. She’s latched onto his arm, but his eyes are solely focused on me. He winks.
A blush races up my neck and fills my cheeks.
Luke leans toward me and says, “I saw that,” making me blush even hotter.
I bite my lower lip to keep myself from smiling too wide and giving myself away. I decided if tonight goes as planned, I’ll be telling Griffin I love him. I’m tired of trying to contain my feelings. I want a future with him. It’s time I stop letting fear hold me back.
And that includes hiding from the spotlight.
So instead of approaching the stage for my welcome speech with fear and trepidation, I stand in front of the large audience with confidence and joy exuding from every pore of my being.
That is, until halfway through my speech, I spot my mom with Thomas Ford.
My stomach bottoms out.
My gaze immediately finds Griffin’s and trails back to our parents, leading him. He winces, his eyes slow to meet mine again. His betrayal stabs right in my core. He’s been keeping this secret from me for longer than just tonight.