8. Chapter 8
Three Years Ago
“Make sure you grab some food before you head out.” The social media influencer runs her fingers through her hair that I just fixed.
She had a disastrous experience with an at-home hair-color kit while trying to fix her roots.
She called our salon for an emergency appointment, and since I’m the new girl, my schedule was the only one open.
My boss had me drop everything to drive to this fancy venue and fix this girl’s hair.
“Are you sure?” I say. “I’m not a guest.”
She waves my comment off. “No one actually eats at these things, and the food is too good to go to waste.” She turns to me with a smile. “Besides, you deserve it after the miracle you just worked on my hair.” She digs around in her purse for a minute before handing me a wad of cash.
“Thanks.” My voice rises in excitement. I don’t even bother to count the money, but I’m pretty sure she just gave me a tip worth more than I typically make in a week. Maybe even a month. “Have fun out there.”
“You, too.” She heads to the door, wiggling her fingers at me over her shoulder. “You’re amazing. I’ll be sure to tag your salon on socials.”
She’s gone before I have a chance to thank her again.
Hopefully the salon owner will be glad they took a chance on me if we get new business from that shout-out.
I took two years off between graduating high school and attending cosmetology school, making money by doing hair and makeup for weddings, proms, and other events.
I saved every penny I earned to pay for my schooling, thanks to my parents letting me continue to live with them rent-free.
Once I graduated cosmetology school, it was difficult to find a salon to give me a job—even with my extensive portfolio—so I’m grateful for opportunities like this to prove myself.
Especially now that I’m living with my three best friends who are all back from college.
It’s an absolute dream to have them as my roommates, but if I want to continue living with them, I need a bigger client base.
Hopefully this woman’s influence will be the boost I need to have enough income to cover my share of rent, utilities, and food without having to dip into my diminishing savings.
I pack up most of my stuff, but the curling iron is too hot to put in my bag.
Standing here waiting for it to cool feels like staring at the clock in middle school as it moves painfully slowly, waiting for the bell to ring that it’s finally time to go home.
And the influencer did say I should check out the food.
If I’m going to wait around, I may as well enjoy myself.
I head out of the back room we were in and follow the distant chatter down the hallway and into the event space.
Multiple chandeliers cast a warm glow over the large ballroom, making the atmosphere feel elegant and intimate.
I immediately feel underdressed in my smocked midi dress, a thrifted Anthropologie find.
In a sea of evening gowns and suits, I’m sure my outfit screams that I don’t belong here.
I may as well be carrying a big flashing red sign that says I’m an imposter.
There are tables littered throughout the room draped with white linen tablecloths and centerpieces that look like they would be at a royal wedding. I weave my way through the setup to get to the food tables.
“Excuse me,” I say as I scoot around a gentleman.
When I look up at his face, I bite back a gasp and avert my gaze.
I’m pretty sure that was the founder of Papa Johns.
I assumed this was just an influencer event, but now I’m wondering if this is a gathering of some of the wealthiest and most influential people in Louisville.
I avoid eye contact with all the other guests until I reach the food.
I probably should eat something savory, but the second I see caviar, I’m worried about what I might accidentally eat.
No fish eggs for me, thank you very much.
I grab a plate, bypass all the appetizers, and head straight to the desserts.
I start out with a mini chocolate-covered square drizzled in white chocolate.
I take a bite and move my shoulders side to side in a happy food dance.
It’s a multilayered chocolate cake with a chocolate ganache.
The rich flavors melt in my mouth and make my taste buds sing.
It’s a shame that the influencer said people don’t really eat at these events. But at least these desserts can find a nice home in my belly.
I survey the sweets table, looking to pick my next sugary victim. I grab an Italian wedding cookie. It’s almond goodness wrapped in powdered sugar. What’s not to love?
A classical version of a popular pop song plays quietly in the background, pulling my attention to the people dancing on the makeshift dance floor as I take a bite of the cookie. Parties were never really my scene, but I’d show up for a dessert table like this any day.
As I finish off my latest sugar casualty, I spot the last person I thought I’d see here: my ex-boyfriend, Bradley Vanderbilt, with my cousin clinging to his arm like cheap drapes, laughing too loudly at what he just said.
I don’t know why he’s here. Maybe his daddy’s law firm represents some of the famous guests.
And I suppose the Vanderbilts are a bit of Louisville royalty in their own right, though I’m loath to admit it.
Honestly, I don’t care why he’s here, I just care that they’re walking toward me wearing matching smug grins.
Like they can’t wait to rub their happiness in my face.
I turn and place my empty plate on the table, then look for a way out.
Shoot. I don’t see any other exit except the one behind Bradley and Bianca.
A tall man in a sharp black suit walks up to the dessert table, and I sidle up next to him out of pure survival instinct.
I wrap my freshly manicured hand around his arm, and the muscles under his suit coat flex under my touch.
I blush as I tilt my head back and look up at the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
At five foot eight, I’ve always been taller than the majority of my friends, but this giant of a man has me feeling petite.
My stomach swoops as I meet his ocean-blue eyes.
His gaze is fixed solely on me, and a slight smirk tilts his lips as he peers down at me.
“I apologize in advance for how crazy I’m about to sound, but would you mind pretending to be my date for five minutes?
” I glance to the side and see they’ve almost finished navigating the maze of tables.
I look back up at the handsome Adonis in front of me and spit out the rest of the words as fast as possible before I lose my nerve.
“My ex is here with his new girlfriend, and I don’t want them to think I’m here alone. ”
The handsome stranger smiles at me as he leans down.
And, oh boy, if I thought he was attractive when he smirked, he’s a whole new level of gorgeous with his full smile on display.
He bends slightly, getting eye level with me before cupping my cheek with his hand.
I bite back a gasp, wondering if he’s about to kiss me.
I didn’t expect this much commitment from a stranger for this stand-in-date bit, but I appreciate his dedication to the cause.
Especially when it means I get to have this handsome man’s strong hands cradling my face.
He brushes the pad of his thumb across my upper lip, and goose bumps erupt across my arms. Luckily, he’s too focused on my face to notice. I’m about to close my eyes and prepare for him to lean in and plant his mouth on mine when he whispers, “You had some powdered sugar there.”
“Right, thank you,” I whisper, hating how breathless I sound. But I feel more chemistry with this stranger than I’ve ever felt with any of my dates. And I’ve been on a lot of first dates.
Handsome Stranger presses a kiss to my forehead and wraps his arm around me, settling his large hand on my waist. I hope it looks like we belong together and not that we just met a few seconds ago.
But I don’t have time to question if we look believable because Bradley and Bianca are approaching.
They look up at each other with wicked, conspiratorial grins, and I take the opportunity to squeeze my fake boyfriend’s side to let him know this is them.
I suck in a ragged breath. Handsome Stranger gives me the smallest nod to acknowledge he understands and pulls me closer, allowing me to feel every chiseled muscle in his arm and side.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Bradley sneers.
My cousin eyes me up and down with pursed lips. “I thought they had a strict dress code for these events, Shnookums.”
Bradley shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. “Some people just don’t know social etiquette, Baby Cakes.”
Shnookums? Baby Cakes? Thank goodness my embarrassment is winning out right now about being seen by them, because if it wasn’t I think I might gag at their over-the-top pet names.
I don’t know how to respond. I’m usually one to keep the peace, avoiding conflict at all cost, and I want to be the bigger person.
Not stoop to their level. But I also wish I had the nerve to stand up for myself.
I mean, Bradley is the one who broke up with me and then jumped right into a relationship with my cousin, who he’d been messaging behind my back.
“Funny.” My stand-in date stiffens beside me, and I wonder if I made a giant mistake and he’s about to hightail it out of here.
I wouldn’t blame him. But then he opens his mouth again.
“I thought social etiquette extended to not publicly demeaning other people to make you feel better about yourself, but I must be mistaken.”
My jaw drops. Those words. His manly voice.
The protective hold he has on my waist. He’s hotter than noon on the Fourth of July.
Hotter than blue blazes. Hotter than a pepper patch.
I’m digging up all the old Southern phrases my grandmother used because this moment—this man—is worthy of them.
He’s nothing like my string of bad first dates.
He’s here, saving me, when he doesn’t even know me. He had no reason to go along with my charade, but he did it anyway. I’d be willing to bet all the money I made today that he’d say it was nothing or that he was happy to help, which only makes him even more attractive.
Bradley’s brow furrows, probably in annoyance that someone would dare speak back to a Vanderbilt. But once he looks up at the handsome stranger’s face, all annoyance is replaced by shock. “You—” He blinks as if he’s seeing things, then points up at him. “You’re Austin Bradford.”
“That’s my name,” Austin deadpans.
Austin Bradford.
I like it.
“You’re the ne…new shortstop for the Mustangs,” Bradley stammers, still looking like a deer in the headlights. “My family purchases a box suite every season.”
“I prefer to think of myself as this beautiful woman’s date.” Austin smiles down at me.
The way he so casually stands up for me and also deflects all of Bradley’s self-absorbed comments makes me practically fall for him on the spot. I definitely grabbed the right man for this job.
Bradley gawks as he looks between us. Bianca’s lips pucker like she sucked on a lemon. “You’re here with Alyssa?” Austin nods and Bianca scoffs. “Why? You’re an MLB player. You could get any girl you want.”
“Then it shouldn’t be shocking that I’d be with the most beautiful woman in the room.”