Page 151 of Lace 'em Up

Fuck it, I’m going to the gala to raise money for my pups, not to worry about perfectly curled lashes.

I touch up my lipstick, leave my hair in loose curls that flow down my back, pop in my earrings, and spend the next five minutes ignoring my ribs as I wrestle myself into my dress.

A spritz of perfume, gloss and lipstick in my purse, then I’m dousing my face in setting spray (and praying my makeup doesn’t melt off when I run around like a lunatic at the winery) and slipping on my sparkling high heeled pumps that are unbelievably gorgeous, but will no doubt have me reaching for the flats I’ve stowed in my purse by the end of the night.

One more look in the mirror.

A deep breath.

And then…I’m ready.

Kind of.

This feels like a big moment, more than just the fundraiser, but King and I at an important event as a couple.

With no barriers between us.

No secrets.

No hidden trauma to rip us apart.

King and I…

Versus the world.

“You’re good,” I tell my reflection. “This is going to be good.”

Exhaling, I nod then move out of the bathroom to find that King’s given up on waiting for me in the bedroom. Grinning, knowing that he’s been beyond patient with the whirlwind that I’ve been today, I make my way out into the hall, and slowly down the stairs.

King is there, standing at the bottom.

And his face, his eyes, the way he moves toward me…is like I’ve stepped out of the pages of a fairy tale.

“Princess,” he says as he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. “You are beautiful.”

“I—” I spin around. “Can you help with the last part of my zipper?”

He doesn’t lean in, doesn’t touch me—not for a long moment.

Then his fingers brush my skin as he tugs up my zipper, leaning in to kiss the side of my neck, murmuring in my ear, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you in that dress.”

I shiver, lean back against him. “Take a good look,” I say, going for light, “because I’ll likely be a sweaty mess by the end of the night.”

“Newsflash”—another kiss before his hands settle on the tops of my arms and he spins me to face him—“I like it when you’re sweaty too.”

A wink that has my mouth curving, my body drifting toward the warmth and strength of his. “Thanks for being my hot date tonight,” I say, straightening his bow tie for no reason, except that I need to touch him.

His chuckle rubs over my skin like velvet. “Anytime, princess.” He tilts his head toward the garage. “Mom is in the kitchen scarfing down all of your cookies because she doesn’t eat quote fancy food?—”

“That’s not true!” Stella shouts from the other room.

King grins, leans in and stage-whispers, “—so she’s filling up now.”

“Kingston Bang,” Stella snaps, walking into the entryway—and it should be noted, doing that walking while brushing cookie crumbs from her face. “How dare you—” She freezes, eyes going wide. “Aurora, honey. My God. You’re beautiful.”

My throat goes tight, especially as she walks over to me and gently straightens one of my curls.

“Beautiful,” she says again, squeezing my hand before nodding at King and turning for the kitchen and the hallway leading to the garage.

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