Chapter 16 - Dawson
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Dawson
I paced the hallway outside her door, eyes darting to my watch for the umpteenth time. Eight o’clock was creeping closer like it had a vendetta. Tux straight, cuffs buttoned, shoes shined, I felt ready, though that didn’t mean anything right now.
“Does it fit?” I paused in front of her door, listening carefully.
“If it didn’t, I would’ve mentioned that to you an hour ago.”
Okay. Message received. I got back to pacing and tried to focus on anything that would keep my mind off how late we were definitely going to be. Or how my impatience was probably more related to wanting to see her in the dress I’d picked out.
There was some more muted shuffling, followed by hurried footsteps. Back into her bathroom, was my guess. Cupboard doors opening and closing. Muttered cursing.
I tapped at her door with one finger to avoid being too pushy. “Do you need any help?”
This time there wasn’t an answer, not even a smartass one. But I swear I could feel the beams of her death stare hit me straight through the cherry wood. The force of it made me take a step back and reconsider my approach.
Maybe a gentle reminder that the party started at eight. Or a gentler one about the limo waiting outside. That last one removed me from the equation, but would still create a sense of urgency.
I stifled a laugh, and got a grip. Feeling nervous before a date…
Wait, this wasn’t a date. Carissa was technically my employee.
Taking her to the party was nothing more than me making up for being an ass this past week.
She’d been stressed about her flight practicals on top of everything else, and deserved a break.
That was all it was.
By no means anything more.
“Did I mention it starts at eight?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded a lot closer now, as if she were standing right on the other side of the door. “What you didn’t mention was how you turned into a time-obsessed ninja whenever you donned a tux.”
“Minor detail,” I murmured, amusement still on my tongue as the door opened.
Light spilled into the hallway and hit me square in the eyes. I squinted, vision catching up, and by the time it cleared, her back was to me.
She stood just inside her room, shoulders bare, the dress cut low enough that it traced the line of her spine before disappearing at her waist. My attention followed that line without permission, down the smooth stretch of skin, then back up again to where her hair had been pinned into an updo that didn’t quite hold.
A few strands had slipped free, curling at her neck, catching against the edge of her ear.
The curve there was unexpected. The slope where her neck met her shoulder. The place just below her jaw where her skin dipped before rising again. It felt intimate to notice it, like I’d been invited too far in without realizing it.
She lifted the zipper tab between her fingers, elbow angling back toward me. “Can you help me with this?”
My feet didn’t move. My brain stalled. The dress hugged her closely enough that I could see the steady rise of her breath. I knew better than to stand there staring, yet my body lagged behind the instruction.
“Dawson?”
Her voice pulled me back. I cleared my throat and stepped closer, every inch of space between us shrinking faster than I expected.
“Sorry,” I said. “Yeah. Of course.”
I took the zipper between my fingers. The metal was cool. The back of my hand skimmed her skin as I started to pull it up, and that small contact landed heavier than it should have. Her shoulders shifted, a reflexive inhale, and I kept my focus locked on the task even as my awareness sharpened.
Up. Inch by inch. The zipper slid cleanly, my knuckles passing over warm skin before the fabric sealed it away. I finished between her shoulder blades and dropped my hand like the contact had burned me.
“All set.”
She turned, and where my mind had stalled before, it was now racing.
Her cheeks carried a faint flush, color spreading beneath carefully applied makeup.
Lips stained red, defined in a way that pulled my gaze straight to the soft dip at the center of her upper lip.
The winged liner around her eyes sharpened her expression, made her look bolder somehow, dangerous to my peace of mind.
My eyes kept traveling, traitorous and unrestrained, down the front of the dress.
The neckline plunged, unapologetic, framing the curve of her chest in a way that made it hard to remember how to breathe properly.
I stopped myself before staring became obvious, though I suspected the effort showed anyway.
She tilted her head. “Well?”
“You look…” I shook my head, then tried again. “It’s a perfect fit.”
“Thanks. You have a good eye.”
And I stood there in my perfectly tailored tux, feeling a little less than that, fully aware that whatever wall I’d built around myself had just taken a serious hit.
“Ready to go?” I asked, checking my watch again before I could stop myself.
Carissa smiled, entirely too calm for someone who had just upended my equilibrium. “I just need twenty minutes to finish up.”
“What?”
Her laugh burst free, bright and unapologetic, as she stepped past me into the hallway. “You should see your face right now.”
I turned to follow her, watching as she took the stairs with infuriating ease, one hand trailing the banister, dress moving with every dip and curve of her body. This woman was going to be the death of me. If I wasn’t sure of it before, there was no denying it now.
The limo waited at the curb, black and glossy under the streetlights. I opened the door for her, and she paused before getting in.
“Are Boone and Gage riding with us?”
“No,” I said. “Boone’s giving the party a skip. He wanted to put in some extra training at the rink.”
Her brows pulled together. Just slightly. Enough that I caught it. “Extra training? On a bye week?”
Something unpleasant stirred in my chest. I told myself it was nothing. That it didn’t matter. That I wasn’t about to read into a reaction that could mean a dozen different things. Still, I heard myself add, “It couldn’t hurt with the way he’s been slacking lately.”
The joke landed flat, which didn’t help the rabid claws raking over my chest.
“What about Gage?”
“Sitter bailed, so he’s staying home with Henry,” I said, and tapped the car door.
Her shoulders tensed. “See, that sucks. I’m the nanny. You shouldn’t have to get a sitter, and he shouldn’t have to miss out on the party because of it.”
“We could stand out here all night debating it,” I said, impatience creeping in before I could rein it back. “But it’s not like either of them are missing a big game. It’s a party. One that I think both of us could use, don’t you think?”
Her gaze searched my face, guilt warring with something else I couldn’t name. She hesitated, fingers curling against the edge of the open door.
I softened my tone. “Come on. We were doing so well. Dress acquired. Shoes on. No casualties. Let’s not let it all fall apart now.”
That did it.
She laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders as she slid into the back of the limo. “Fine. But if Henry decides to mutiny tomorrow, that’s on you.”
“I’ll take the blame,” I said, sliding in beside her.
*
The limo eased to a stop beneath Mandalay Bay’s glow. I stepped out first, taking in the gold light along the sidewalk. Carissa followed, careful, almost hesitant. That’s when the noise hit.
Cameras flashing, voices folding over each other, the kind of heat that made me feel totally exposed in front of a horde of strangers.
Reporters were already leaning in, microphones thrust forward.
My name. Her name. Questions fired like bullets, the most common one asking whether or not we were dating.
I tightened my grip on Carissa’s arm instinctively. She pressed in beside me, fingers gripping tight. I shifted, angling my body to shield her, feeling the push of dozens of lenses all around us.
Her hair caught a stray flash moving across her shoulders. I focused on that instead of the barrage. Not because I wanted to ignore the cameras. Because I wanted to keep her intact.
“The Foundation Room’s quieter. Don’t worry,” I muttered near her ear. “Only members allowed up there.”
Her laugh was a short, nervous sound. “That’s if we even make it that far.”
We weren’t making it. Every step forward felt like pushing against a wall of chaos. Microphones jostled us. Headshots and autograph books were shoved at me. My patience snapped.
“Fuck it.”
I grabbed her hand firmly, and spun back toward the limo. The red carpet exploded behind us, voices climbing, flashes snapping. She stumbled, half laughing, half alarmed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breath coming quick as I slammed the door shut behind me.
“Drive,” I instructed, ignoring her for the moment.
The limo jerked forward, tires shrieking against the asphalt. The Vegas Strip streamed past in streaks of neon and gold. Adrenaline still rushed through me, but already the clamor of the paparazzi started to fade.
She stared out the back window for a beat, then turned to me, shock and surprise playing on her face.
“You okay with ditching that shit-show?”
That bright, incredulous laugh came again. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I admitted, the corner of my mouth twitching under threat of a smile. “Or maybe I have a better idea for how to spend our down time.”
Her eyebrow quirked, and she settled into the seat. “I’m intrigued.”
“Good. Sit tight and let me show you what I mean.”
I didn’t push at the way the plush leather dipped as she inched closer, the warmth of her thigh seeping into mine. I just let the space between us shrink naturally, and pretended I was totally okay with the things that did to my body.
The limo cut through the quieter side streets, and Carissa shifted beside me, curiosity getting the better of her.
“So… where are we going?” she asked, voice edged with amusement.