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“Let’s just say today was a bad day. My ex got remarried. To my former best friend.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Well, that’s a cunty move if I ever heard of one.”

“That’s what I think too.”

“Well then.” She turns to face me, her slender body moving as close to me as possible without actually pressing herself into my chest. “I suggest we have a great time tonight. In spite of her. Not because of her.”

That elicits a genuine smile from me. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”

To my surprise, she lifts to her toes and presses a feather-light kiss on my cheek. “You deserve better, Cash. I don’t know you but everything in me believes that.”

If only I could believe it too.

Chapter Two

Maya

It’s been a long time since I’ve been infatuated with a guy. I date, have the occasional hookup, and have a lot of fun when I’m not working, but there’s something about Cash that ticks all my boxes. Tall and built, with light brown hair that’s a little shaggy, and deep-set blue eyes that seem to assess anything and everything around him.

He also seems quiet, well-spoken, and gentle. That’s the only way to describe him. He’s big and strong but his touch is light, both when we danced and now that he’s keeping me in front of him and away from the crowd pushing around us.

That’s really my kryptonite. A strong but gentle man. One who’s protective without being overbearing. Granted, I’ve known him about fifteen minutes and it’s not like this is a date, but the touch of vulnerability in his voice when he mentioned his ex and his best friend—it awakened something in me. I can’t even imagine how it would feel if my best friend hooked up with my future husband.

I shudder just thinking about it.

So, if there’s anything I can do to make him forget about it for a while, I will.

We drink and dance for the next couple of hours. As I suspected, he’s quiet but not in a rude or boring way. He just doesn’t say much unless he has to, and if I’m honest, that’s fine with me. I don’t like getting too personal because once people find out I work in show business, it can get awkward.

As an Oscar-winning costume designer for both movies and on Broadway, I’m fairly well-known. Here in New York anyway. I travel quite a bit for work but one of my friends has her show on Broadway at the moment, and as a favor to her, I offered to do the costumes. It’s a lot of work for a lot less money than I’m used to, but it’s something different and I really love it. The crew and actors are all amazing, so I’ve had a lot of fun this summer.

I just don’t like telling random guys who I am or what I do—it can be weird sometimes. People often think I’ll be able to introduce them to movie stars and such, and while that’s true, I try to avoid it until I get to know someone.

It’s ironic that Cash lives in the Atlanta area too, since I’m going to be working there on the set of a television show starting in September. The original costume designer who signed on this past Spring got unexpectedly pregnant and wound up on bed rest, so I’ve been pulling double duty for both the show and my stint here on Broadway. They were so excited that I was willing to jump in to take over, they’ve been more than willing to compromise on me doing the long-distance thing initially. I also flew down multiple times for meetings during pre-production.

Luckily, I have a great set of assistants who are keeping things going while I’m finishing up my commitment here in New York. A month from now, I’ll be packing up and moving into my brother’s house in a town called Peachtree Heights, which is about thirty minutes north of downtown Atlanta. And an hour away from where the show is filming. I may decide to get a place closer to the set once I get settled, but initially, it’ll be fun to hang at my brother’s place.

“Another drink?” Cash asks me as we leave the dance floor.

“Absolutely, but I’ll get this round,” I say, pulling out my phone.

He puts a hand on mine. “Not how I’m built. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m buying.”

“Oh, a little old-fashioned, are we?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, maybe a bit.”

“Okay, but don’t go telling your friends tomorrow that the chick you were dancing with took advantage of you and ordered super expensive bourbon. Because I like the good stuff.”

“Noted.” He smiles. “And don’t worry—I can afford to buy a beautiful woman expensive bourbon.”

I look up into his eyes and see a trace of…something. Pride? Guilt? It’s hard to tell because it’s a brief flicker and then it’s gone, what I’d call a flirtatious half-smile in its place.

Then the DJ changes direction and Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” comes on.

It’s one of my all-time favorite songs and I reach for his hand. “Please say you’ll slow dance with me.”

He looks startled for a second but then nods. “Sure.”