Page 86 of The Single Dad

I have to catch my breath at my own reflection. I spend more than a few minutes taking it in before I snatch up the heels on my chair and head downstairs.

Cole and Archie are both already dressed up, waiting in the foyer. They’re wearing matching suits, which is adorable. Cole’s is tailored to perfection, and I can’t help but think how sharp he looks.

Cole is always well-dressed to begin with, but in black tie, his handsomeness is intense, like a knife’s edge.

While I stare at him, his gaze sweeps over me in the same fashion. We both avert our eyes. He clears his throat.

“You look very handsome, Archie,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension.

Archie beams, puffing out his chest.

“Everyone ready to go?” Cole asks brusquely. “The car’s out front.”

He holds the door open, and Archie runs ahead, out to the sidewalk. As I pass by him, I feel Cole’s hand come to rest on the small of my back.

His breath tickles my ear as he whispers to me, “You’re absolutely stunning. I can’t wait to take that dress off of you.”

I shoot him a fleeting look, unable to suppress my shiver of desire at the heat in his gaze. Then I follow Archie over to the waiting car.

The ride is relatively short. The driver pulls the car up in front of the venue’s double doors. The gala is taking place in the ballroom of an old hotel in midtown, the sort of place I would walk past on my way to work but would never imagine I could enter.

As we make our way through the lobby, heading toward the ballroom, I can hear the echo of hundreds of murmuring voices. I allow myself to move slowly, taking in the sparkle of the crystal chandeliers, the oil paintings decorating the walls.

Catching up to Cole and Archie, I feel almost giddy with excitement.

The room is full from wall-to-wall with designer suits and flashy, gorgeous dresses like my own. I follow closely behind Cole as he begins to mingle with the crowd, suddenly relieved that he provided me with something appropriate to wear.

At least with the dress, I don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Cole wades confidently through the room, and it’s easy for me and Archie to follow in his wake. Archie slips his small hand into my own, and I guide him along, making sure he doesn’t get lost.

Eventually, Cole stops at a cocktail table against one wall, where there are two other tall, impeccably dressed men lingering with their drinks. There’s a woman with them, blonde, with a heart-shaped face and sparkling green eyes.

“You made it,” the taller of the two men says, pushing his slightly messy hair back. “Thought you weren’t going to show.”

The other man at the table, dark-haired and more serious-looking, leans over to glance at me. The blonde woman, her arm wrapped around his, follows his gaze.

“Hi,” she says, waving a little. “I’m Sophie. You must be Cole’s new nanny.”

“Um, yes,” I reply, trying not to look as flustered as I feel. “I’m Riley. It’s nice to meet you.”

Cole gestures to the blonde woman, then to the intimidating man beside her. “This is Sophie, and my childhood friend, Declan,” he says. “And that asshole right there is Reed.”

Shyly, I lift a hand in greeting. They give me friendly nods, and Reed immediately makes a face at Cole.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m an asshole,” he says, laying a hand over his heart as if clutching invisible pearls. He glances back at me with a wink. “Declan and I have known Mr. Robot here since we were kids, so I guess he feels like he can just say whatever.”

Cole scowls, but freezes at the sound of a laugh I couldn’t suppress. He gives me a puzzled look.

“Sorry,” I say, grinning. “It’s just… nice to meet…”

I trail off mid-sentence. As my gaze moves back over the group of them, I notice Declan watching me carefully, his gaze assessing. Nerves flutter in my stomach; what if he thinks I don’t belong here, and he’s trying to catch me messing up?

“Friends of yours,” I finish lamely, frazzled.

Reed smiles, but Declan is still staring at me with narrowed eyes, like he’s working on one of Cole’s Sudoku puzzles that’s etched across my face.

Self-conscious, I give the room a cursory survey. I wonder, suddenly, just how weird it is for me to be here. Not just because I was handed the invite, and because this world—the one with caviar plates being carried around by tuxedo-clad wait staff—is completely foreign to me.

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