Page 107 of Lace 'em Up

This is why I don’t make plans. This is why I just keep my head down and continue moving forward. It all goes away and if I stop moving, if I allow the present to wrap around me like waves kissing the bow of a ship and then dragging it under, sinking it into the dark ocean depths.

Taking me down with it.

No.

I need to stop standing on board, arms waving for someone to save me, all while waiting to drown.

I need to take charge of my life.

I need to swim my ass to shore.

King’s voice rumbles on, but I force myself to turn away, to head back up the stairs, to accept what I already knew.

This isn’t real.

This is a fairy tale—the white knight rescuing the damsel from the side of the road. It’s been nice to live in this world, this moment for a little while, but the real fairy tales have grim endings.

I need to step out from between the pages of the book, need to get back to reality.

It’s time to find an apartment, finish up my design work for the gala, focus on my pups.

Time to forget this whiplash of men—terrible to wonderful.

Time to…move on.

The knock at my office door has me looking up, seeing Jean-Michel leaning back against the doorframe.

He’s decidedly casual—for him anyway—in a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of jeans and boots.

Out walking the vineyard, inspecting the vines, the wine production.

Finger on the pulse.

Always.

This man somehow has the uncanny ability to keep track of all of the varied pieces of his business ventures.

I guess that’s what makes him so successful.

And it’s also probably why he’s appeared like my fairy godmother—some magical part of him sensing that I’m unsettled, that I’m a mess, that there’s something going on with me that he needs to fix.

“It’s late,” he says.

I glance out the window, see the sun sliding behind the hills in the distance.

“So says the hockey team owner who was traveling with the guys and then spent all day working his other job.” I nod to his boots. “What are you going to do? Trade those for dress shoes and head off to a board meeting?”

The flicker in his eyes has me knowing that I’m right.

Not that he acknowledges it.

He just tilts his head down the hall. “Want to walk the space for the gala?”

My heart squeezes.

This man is ruthless.

But he’s also kind.

---