Chapter 27 Reed
Reed
Bramblewood Manor looks, to quote my girlfriend, “festive as fuck.”
Ice sculptures gleam under chandeliers, and my trees—infinitely more elegant than they did in my greenhouse—serve as centerpieces throughout the main hall.
Through the tall glass doors, I can see Eliza’s cleared garden strung with hundreds of tiny white lights, and beyond that, an actual ice rink where professional dancers glide in perfect synchronization.
I adjust my jacket for the hundredth time, scanning the crowd of Pittsburgh’s finest in their holiday best. Everyone appears magazine-ready, coiffed to the nines, and I’m trying not to think about how I don’t belong here any more than I did at my father’s presentation.
Where the hell is Eliza?
She insisted on meeting me here instead of letting me pick her up—something about last-minute animal emergencies and making sure Eden and Nate were settled at her place to keep Emma from “accidentally” releasing the goats.
I check my phone again; she’s only ten minutes late, but it feels like an hour.
If I’m honest, meeting her here gives me some much-needed time to cool down.
I called my father before I left and told him I hoped I wouldn’t see him tonight at the gala.
He, of course, scoffed at the suggestion he would be here.
And why should he, with nothing in it for him?
I made sure he heard me assert I would not be starting work at the family firm, and he was in the middle of telling me how I’d regret that when I hung up the phone.
Then I drove to this ball where I have nothing to lose, on the edge of ruin. And I’m not sorry, because I’m meeting someone here who lights me up from the inside.
Then I see her.
Eliza Storm walks through the entrance wearing a black velvet pantsuit that makes every other woman in the room look underdressed.
The jacket is cut perfectly, hugging her curves, and there’s something about the way the lapels frame her chest that makes my mouth go dry.
Her hair, usually in a practical ponytail, falls in soft waves around her shoulders, and someone—probably Eva—has done something magical with makeup that makes her eyes look enormous.
But it’s the confidence in her stride that really gets me. She moves through this crowd of society people like she owns the place, scanning the room until her gaze lands on me.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, weaving through conversations and champagne glasses to reach her. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she says, but I can see a hint of nervousness beneath her polished frosting.
“You look…” I search for words that aren’t completely inappropriate for public consumption. “Absolutely stunning.”
I take her hand and bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles while maintaining eye contact. “I am the luckiest man in this room.”
Her smile transforms from nervous to radiant. “Smooth, Saint Nicholas.”
“Come on,” I say, offering her my arm. “Let me introduce you to some people as my amazing girlfriend, the urban goatherd.”
“You’re really going to lead with the goats?”
“I’m leading with amazing. And girlfriend.”
For the next hour, I do exactly that. Every conversation, every introduction, I make sure people know Eliza runs a successful sustainable landscaping business, that she’s brilliant and fearless and the reason half this room is enjoying the stunning outdoor views tonight.
Of course, I emphasize she’s mine. I keep an arm around her shoulders.
I let my thumb caress the velvet material.
I relax into my place at her side like I never intend to leave.
And I don’t.
Eliza, to my continued amazement, holds her own with every single person we meet. She talks shop with environmental lawyers, explains invasive species management to city planners, and somehow makes goat husbandry sound fascinating.
“Reed! Eliza!” Mandy Warnick appears at my elbow, looking genuinely pleased to see us both. “You two look wonderful.”
“Mandy,” I say, surprised by her warm tone. “Thank you again for including my trees in the decorations. They look incredible.”
“They’re the hit of the evening. Everyone’s asking about them.” She gestures to a group of stern-looking men in expensive suits standing near the refreshment table. “In fact, I was just talking to some guests who might be interested.”
The men approach, and Mandy makes introductions. They’re urban development executives, and from their expressions, they’re dealing with some kind of professional frustration.
“Gentlemen, this is Reed Nicholas of Urban Forest Solutions, and Eliza Storm of Mobile Urban Natural Clearing Herd.”
One of the men—Harrison something—shakes our hands perfunctorily.
“Development in the city has been a nightmare lately. We’ve got this condo complex finishing up, supposed to be luxury furnished units for young tech professionals, but three different decorating contracts fell through. Place looks sterile as a hospital.”
“When do you need it ready?” Eliza asks.
“January first. We’ve got a crop of robotics interns starting then, and these kids expect Pinterest-worthy living spaces. Even the damn scientists are social media influencers these days.” Harrison gestures dismissively. “Impossible timeline for anything decent.”
“Do the condos need any plant life?” Eliza asks, and I catch something calculating in her tone.
Harrison laughs. “Lady, they need everything. But we’re talking about forty units that need to look like this”—he waves around the elegantly decorated room—“in just over a week.”
“This guy can get you situated in no time,” Eliza says, hooking her thumb at me with casual confidence. She reaches into what I now notice is a tiny pocket strategically placed near her cleavage and produces a crisp new business card that definitely wasn’t designed by me.
Harrison takes the card, examining it with interest. “Urban Forest Solutions. What exactly do you do?”
“Hydroponic fir trees,” I say, finding my voice. “Perfect for furnished spaces—living decorations that don’t require soil or complicated maintenance. Each unit could have at least one, plus I can coordinate with other local vendors for complementary decor.”
“Local vendors?” Eliza furrows her brow and taps her lip.
I nod and reference some of the people I know from the market downtown.
“But Eliza’s sister Eva is actually a social media influencer.
” I pull out my phone and show off some of the posts Eva made for my business.
“I’m certain the two of us could get you what you need in time.
” I sip the rest of my champagne, place the flute on a nearby tray, and lean against Eliza as if I were totally calm and used to this sort of interaction rather than buzzing like a clogged hydroponic pump inside my suit.
“Provided, of course, you have the budget for procurement.”
“Budget, he says,” Harrison muses. “It’s the skillset and the items causing us trouble. You can do all that around the holidays?”
I nod as Eliza slips her hand inside my pants pocket and does indecent things with her fingertips along my thigh. With a gulp, I tell Harrison, “Give me the weekend to recover from this gala, and I promise I’ll make your roboticists happy.”
Harrison pockets the card and selects one of my sample trees from a nearby centerpiece. “I’ll call you on Monday with specifications. This could solve a major headache.”
As the development executives move away, Harrison carrying his tiny tree like a trophy, I turn to Eliza in complete amazement.
“What just happened?”
“You just landed a massive contract, I think, and got my baby sister some design work.” She grins at my stunned expression. “You better dance with me to celebrate.”
“I’m a terrible dancer. And my ankle’s still tender.”
“Could we put some ice on it? I want to twirl around this fancy room with my hot prince.”
“It’s not too bad.” I give it a shake, focusing on how amazing she looks right now in that suit.
“Maybe you can rub it for me later.” I take her hand and lead her to the small area where other couples are swaying to the string quartet.
As we move—me trying not to step on her feet, her laughing at my concentrating face—I find myself staring down the front of her jacket.
Thinking about her fingers in my pants pocket.
Noticing her lack of a shirt under this black velvet…
“Reed,” she says after a few minutes.
“Hmm?”
“My eyes are up here.”
Heat floods my face. “Sorry. It’s just… are you wearing anything under that jacket?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her voice is pure temptation.
My pants tighten. “Yes, I absolutely would like to know.”
She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. “Do you want to stay here and make small talk with more strangers, or would you like to take me to your place and get a proper look?”
I nearly trip over my own feet. “That’s not really a fair choice.”
“I’m not feeling particularly fair tonight.”
I look around the party—at the elegant decorations, the successful people networking and celebrating, the world I thought I needed to prove myself to. Then I look at Eliza, mischief dancing in her eyes, offering me something infinitely better than professional validation.
“Get your coat,” I say.
“Yes, sir.”
As we make our way toward the exit, I catch sight of my trees scattered throughout the room, my work finally being appreciated and valued.
But for the first time since I started this business, that recognition feels secondary to the woman beside me, who just changed my entire future with cardstock pulled from her cleavage and the unshakeable belief that I was worth investing in.