Chapter 12 – Eden
EDEN
My blood thrums as I move through the party crowd, saying hello to everyone I recognize while I look over their shoulders for anything going wrong. Empty trays, missing servers, abandoned drink glasses, and even awkward conversations between guests—they’re all things I can fix.
Mostly, though, I’m ready to soak up the energy of the crowd. That’s the best part of working an event, seeing people actually enjoy the party I spent ages putting together. Their enjoyment is contagious.
Of course, the baby shower going well isn't the only thing that has my spirits up.
The fee Flair Events is paying me for this event should cover my costs for November and most of December.
Which is great timing, considering that the lease transfer between me and Brinley went through two weeks ago.
I'm officially paying rent by myself, and I don’t have a financial back-up plan anymore.
I deleted the PrairieSmoke account after my first paycheck.
Even though I lost my followers, it felt good to get rid of it.
Camwork went from a financial life preserver to a millstone hung around my neck.
Already, I feel freer knowing that the only person who's going to see me naked in the near future is me.
Best of all, I didn't have to take a dollar for anyone.
Not from Luke, not from my brothers. And I've taken great pleasure in rubbing it in all the Locke boys’ faces.
Since I started working for Flair, my brothers have received incessant texts from me, updating them on balloons and custom banners and guestlists.
It's not exactly impressive to a bunch of ranchers, but I don't care.
Luke might have introduced me to Flair, but I'm the one who turned the introduction into a lucrative new job. That means I did this all by myself.
“Hey, Eden?” One of the bartenders walks over to me. “We’re down to our last two bottles of sparkling cider.”
“I guess people aren't drinking in solidarity. I know we've got some in the prep kitchen. I'll make sure the bar is stocked.”
“Thanks,” she says. “You're a lifesaver.”
I wave to Pippa, Cat, and Brinley as I move through the crowd.
Pippa and Cat wave back and Brinley sticks her tongue out at me.
The only downside of having my own apartment is how quiet it is.
I miss Brinley. Even though she spent more time at Beau’s than at home for the past few months, I still saw her at the bookstore.
Now, I’m spending far more time alone than I’m used to, and I’m not sure I like it.
I give myself a mental reminder to invite Brinley over for a girl’s night next week.
When I push open the door to the prep kitchen, I’m surprised to find Maura standing there, leaning against one of the tables. She smiles sheepishly when she sees me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Maura nods. “I just needed a minute. The crowd out there is a lot.”
I smile sympathetically. “I get it. You’ve got hundreds of people here, and it’s a lot. But trust me, everyone’s having a great time.”
“Good. I feel bad that big parties aren’t really my thing. I’m not exactly the world’s best hostess.”
“Hey, give yourself a break!” I insist. “You’re pregnant. You’re supposed to be on bedrest, and instead, you’re out here, raising money for people who need it. I got a sneak peek of the event photos, and they're amazing. You're going to slam through your fundraising goals.”
“I hope so. I'm just glad I could—” Maura stops, putting her hand on her stomach. “Sorry. She's kicking. You don't have to, but do you want to feel?”
“Of course!”
Maura takes my wrist and guides my hand to her stomach. I feel the slight pressure of the baby kicking and laugh. “Wow, she's strong!”
The baby kicks again, three times in a row. Maura smiles. “I think the baby likes you.”
“She should, considering how much effort I put into her party!” I joke. “This is nothing, baby. Just wait until you see your first birthday party. It'll make this shindig look like an intimate gathering.”
“Aren't you lucky?” Maura coos to her belly. “You get your auntie Eden to plan all your parties.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. I might have spent my life surrounded by men, but I've always wanted a real circle of female friends. For the first time in my life, it feels like I might get to have that.
“I should get back to the party.” Maura sighs. “Eventually, people tend to notice if the pregnant lady goes missing. And by people, I mean my husband.”
I chuckle. “I'm just headed back to the kitchen to get some more bottles of sparkling cider. When I come back, I'll make sure your glass is full and your husband is behaving.”
“I appreciate that.” She takes a deep breath and braces herself before she rejoins the party.
I walk to the back of the room, where the shelves are stocked with extra bottles.
Of course, some genius decided to put the sparkling cider on the very top shelf.
I’m in the middle of deciding whether to grab a chair to stand on or just get on my tiptoes when the door opens again. I turn around, expecting Maura.
Instead, I see Luke standing in the doorway, his hands casually shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing a tan suit that makes the blue-green of his eyes stand out and looks damn good on his trim figure.
Not that I’m looking.
Heat rushes to my face. I’m not supposed to be thinking about Luke like that. I’m at work right now, running around in my dowdy work blacks, probably with yellow icing smeared on me somewhere. Now’s not the time to be thinking about how good he looks.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, then immediately feel ridiculous. That’s how I’d talk to a random guest who wandered back into the staging area. Luke’s not a stranger—then again, he’s not quite a friend, either.
“I was looking for you,” Luke says.
I blink, surprised. “Why?”
He steps away from the doorway, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. Any sounds from the party are immediately muffled. I swallow. He’s close enough that I can catch the faint scent of his cologne.
“What were you doing back here?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“I was getting more sparkling cider.” I gesture back to the shelf over my shoulder. “It’s too high, though.”
He nods. Without waiting for me to ask, he strides next to me, his shoulder brushing against mine as he reaches up for the box. He hauls it down easily, the bottles clinking inside the cardboard. He sets it down on the floor, then stands.
“Thanks,” I whisper, my mouth dry. I’m all too aware that there’s maybe two inches of space between our bodies.
Luke’s eyes are dark as they flick down to my lips. My chest swells as I inhale a shaky breath.
Without touching me, he moves even closer, until I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
My back meets the shelf behind me, glass bottles clinking softly.
He doesn’t reach for me. He just lowers his head, angling his face to the side, letting the almost-touch stretch until my whole body aches with it.
“Tell me no,” he murmurs, his breath grazing my parted lips. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t. Because there’s not a cell in my body that wants him to.
His mouth closes the distance between us, pressing against mine. Hard. There’s nothing gentle or exploratory about it. It’s all heat and pressure, hunger and silent commands.
Commands that I obey without thinking.
My body moves before my brain can catch up.
I melt against him, circling my arms around his neck as I press every part of me I can against him.
His tongue swipes through my mouth as his hand finds my jaw, tilting my face up just the way he wants it.
Chills roll through me as he maps every inch of my mouth with his tongue and lips.
His cock twitches slightly against my stomach. I roll my hips encouragingly, wanting to feel it. I want to know exactly what Luke Windsor is packing under his tailored suits.
Instantly, he steps away, dropping his hands. The sudden retreat feels like a slap—a harsh, sudden reminder that this is how things are with us. He might initiate a kiss, but he also decides when it ends.
Which is never when I want it to.
His chest heaves. For three full seconds, he stares at my mouth like a man doing complicated math.
He clears his throat. “Okay. Now we know we can turn it on when we need to.” At my dazed look, he adds, “We’ve got that dinner with my Quebec distributor and his wife next week. They’re still pretty cagey about doing business with me after the Peppermint piece, so we really need to sell it.”
“Right.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to show them you’re a good boyfriend. That was good practice.”
Except the word feels wrong in my mouth. Nothing about that kiss felt like practice. It felt like something real, something stolen and secret and decadent.
“I should let you get back to work,” he says, nodding. “I’ll pick you up next week, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”
As the door closes behind him, I press my fingers to my lips. If I close my eyes, part of me thinks I can still feel the heat of his mouth.