Page 89 of Pink and Country

On their way out, I hugged Rob and Betty, ignoring the etiquette, after being pampered like a queen. “Thank you so much,” I said, rapidly blinking tears away from my eyes.

“Oh, dear, don’t you cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” Rob said with an air kiss. “Mr. Hills, this girl is a keeper.” Rob exited the suite, his arm linked to Betty’s, and waved at us. “Drinks?” I heard him ask the woman as I closed the door behind them.

* * *

The driver, dressed in a black suit, opened the car door, and Carter got out. My heart drummed so fast in its cage I thought I’d die of a heart attack. Or throw up and pass out. Breathe, April . Carter held out his hand, inviting me to join him. I took a deep breath, my stomach a web of tight knots. My hand glided into Carter’s and melted, his warmth my safe harbor. I plastered a smile on my face, tipped my chin up, and climbed out of the car, trying to not trip over my feet. Or my gown.

The heels Dahlia found for me weren’t too high. “One less thing to worry about,” she’d said. I thanked her in my head.

Carter’s eyes glistened as they landed on me, and his smile broke all my reservations.

I snaked my hand around his arm and dug my shaky fingers into the sleeve of his dark charcoal slim-fit tuxedo. Dressed to impress, Carter looked like a movie star. A wet dream. He’d shaved, and Rob had cut his hair earlier, styling it into a sexy just-got-out-of-bed-looking-this-fabulous kind of way.

I kept my stare on him.

Steadying my breathing, I avoided chewing my lips, afraid to ruin my lipstick.

“Breathe, April,” Carter said so low I barely heard him, his mouth inches from my ear. His lips brushed my temple, and I shivered from lust.

The corners of his lips twitched into a large smile.

Camera flashes blinded me, and I tried my best to ignore them.

“Keep walking, soon enough we’ll be inside,” Carter said, not breaking his composure. “You’re beautiful.” I raised my eyes to meet his, and his confidence rubbed off on me.

When I agreed to walk the short distance between the car to the entrance of the museum where the fundraiser was hosted, I never thought that it’d be that intimidating. All my cells trembled with agitation. Good. And bad.

A tall man with gelled-back blond hair stopped before us and forced a microphone in front of Carter’s face. Carter’s smile never faltered. A short woman with a silvery pixie cut, dressed in a short, strapless blue dress and black stilettos, neared us, invading our personal space.

A few seconds later, a hurdle of cameramen and reporters circled us and fired questions our way while Taylor and Ed, Carter’s personal security, pushed them back, keeping them at a distance from us. I took a calming breath, my eyes glossy. I hated all the attention. If only I could crawl into Carter’s arms and disappear. My heart leaped in my throat. Can I throw up my own heart?

Carter’s firm hand found my clammy one, and he laced his fingers through mine.

“Carter, can you tell us who’s your date tonight?”

“Is she the woman you were pictured with a few weeks back?”

“Is your new song about her?” Camera flashes.

“Carter, did you cheat on Savannah with this woman? What’s her name?”

“Are you still in love with Savannah Prince?”

“Carter, are the rumors true? Have you—?” More camera flashes.

My stomach turned, and I inhaled slowly as I blocked them out. This circus got me lightheaded, and I tightened my grip on Carter’s hand, digging my fingernails in his flesh. He didn’t pull his hand back.

He gazed at me, his eyes literally fucking me, as he answered some of their questions. “She’s my muse. She appeared in my life at the exact moment I needed to believe in magic again.” The words flew naturally off his mouth. They reminded me of the ones I spoke to Jack the first time we met. My heart did a little dance in its cage. The air came in and out of my lungs easier.

Carter dropped a soft kiss on my forehead, and Taylor cleared the way until we finally entered the venue, freed from the press attention, Ed tailing us from behind.

“Thanks,” I whispered in Carter’s ear, rising on my tiptoes. His hand slithered around my waist. I scanned the room. We were in the contemporary art museum hall, surrounded by gigantic pieces of art, framed on twenty-foot-tall walls. The room had been decorated with touches of black and gold. Fancy and chic. Servers passed appetizers and glasses of champagne around. Everybody was so elegant. I recognized Bradley Stevenson—the football player—two actors, and a rock star amongst the crowd. My heart did tiny flips in my chest.

People—lots of people—came to greet Carter. Hands were shaken. Smiles were offered. Air kisses were thrown. The room felt a hundred degrees warmer as more people introduced themselves, and I resisted the urge to fan myself. An older woman wearing a faux-fur—or I hoped it was—silvery shrug over a long lilac silky gown sauntered our way.

“Dear, your gown is exquisite,” she said.

I thanked her with a heartfelt smile. With his arm still around my waist and a sly smile, Carter handed me a glass of champagne. I returned his smile, and our eyes locked for a few beats.