Page 75 of Finding Home

“You are stunning.” A big smile filled his face.

“You look prettywowyourself.” She stepped closer to him, waggling her brows.

The black suit he wore molded over his muscular figure. He wore the pink tie she’d bought him on her shopping trip with Aunt Janet.

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling a small black box out of his pocket.

“Clayton.” Elle bit her lower lip, as she opened the box revealing a thin silver bangle engraved with starfish.“This is beautiful.”

“After lunch, Nat took me to that dog bakery the two of you had been apparently texting about, to pick up the dog cookies you wanted to bring back for Fitz,” he said, bemused.“The cashier had one like this and said she got it in a shop down the street.I knew you were going to wear the pearls, but I wanted you to also have your starfish tonight to remind you of how many you have helped to get back into the sea and how many more you will.”Clayton slid the bangle onto Elle’s right wrist, kissing her hand like the hero from an Austen novel.

“I love it.”Pressing up to her toes, she placed her grateful smile against his admiring one.

Clayton was a hit with the Sloan-Whitney crew. Over cocktails, he and Malcolm had bonded over the importance of animal rescue.Malcolm had shared pictures of Jack and Diane, the chocolate lab pair he’d adopted from a shelter and named for the John Mellencamp song.

“I know this pug,”Malcolm chuckled, as Clayton showed him a picture of Fitz.“He attended our director’s meeting yesterday.I didn’t realize he was yours. The way Elle fawned over him during our meeting yesterday, I assumed he was hers.”

“I didn’t fawn,”Elle laughingly protested.

“Oh, she fawns,”Clayton’s smile curled with teasing appreciation. “I went to a dog bakery today specializing in organic dog treats to pick up treats for Fitz.Apparently, Elle had researched dog bakeries and texted my sister to help secure the treats.”

“Well, I promised Fitz a treat.”

“I don’t know if he needs more treats. He seems a little pudgy,” Malcom chuckled.

“Don’t body shame our dog!” Elletskedwith a laugh.Our dog?Realization wagged its finger at her. “I mean Clayton’s dog,” she corrected, tightening her grip around her wineglass.

Clayton’s fingers located at the small of her back massaged slowly. “Fitz isn’t ours, we’re his.”

The words and his stroking fingers easing the threatened tension of muscles in her body.

Before dinner, Elle excused herself to the ladies’ room.

“Oh shoot.”A tall woman with long black hair grimaced in the mirror, as Elle washed her hands.

“Are you okay?”Elle asked, watching the woman dab at her hot pink taffeta dress.

“I dribbled some wine on my dress. At least it’s white.”

“I got you.”Elle opened her clutch pulling out a stain removing pen. Elle always kept a few essentials in her clutch just in case something happened, a stain-removing pen, Band-Aids, breath mints, Tylenol, and a tampon. The essentials.

“Bless you! I have to give a speech in ten minutes, and I didn’t want to be thinking about this the entire time.”

“I once got a run in my pantyhose before a grad school presentation. I took them off and tossed them in the trash rather than deal with knowing there was a run in them.”

“Men never think of these things.I once had a male colleague that presented with his shirt misbuttoned, and nobody said anything.A week later, I had the tiniest smudge of toothpaste on my blouse and three people commented on it after a meeting.”

“At least they knew you brush your teeth,”Elle quipped.

The woman tossed her chin up with laughter and then outstretched her hand. “Magda Parsons.” The Geneva Breast Cancer Foundation’s Chief Executive Officer known for her no nonsense management-style was the last person that Elle expected to be fretting over a stain.

“Elle Davidson.”

“Sloan-Whitney.” Magda wore an impressed expression.

Ah, so Magda knew who she was.

“I read that piece in theLA Timesabout the Mobile Mammography program in Arizona and New Mexico. Very impressive outcomes through increased routine screening in rural communities.”

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