Page 85 of Tight Spot

“Let’s just say this isn’t going to be one of your success stories.”

“Psssh. There’s always speed bumps.”

I shook away the seed of hope she was trying to plant.

“Yeah, well, you were lost in him, but I took a glance at Darrick, and I have to tell you, he did not like that kiss one little bit more, Bianca definitely didn’t like the way he was watching you, so at least that worked out well for all of us.”

“I can’t even believe she’s here,” I muttered and slipped into the chair Dawson held out for me. Once we were seated, his arm draped around the back of my chair.

Charlie was on my other side and nudged his elbow into mine. Next to him was Tate, then Holly. Mom and Dad were at the table across from us and then Sloane, Misty, Meredith and Tuevo rounded out the table sitting next to Dawson.

Tate and Holly were whispering, Tate’s jaw clenched, still shooting the occasional daggers at Dawson while he and Tuevo talked about their upcoming seasons and off-season training. I only heard snippets, and none of it made much sense to me, so instead of joining or listening, I took a sip of my water and caught my mom’s gaze.

“Proud of you,” she mouthed to me and tipped her drink in my direction. “And I like him.”

She and everyone else in the room most likely.

I blew her a kiss and settled back into my chair and Dawson’s arm. His thumb drew lazy circles around my shoulder. It didn’t matter one bit to me if it was for show, for Darrick or my family, I relished every last brush of his skin on mine for as long as I could have it.

* * *

I held the glass award with my company’s name, my name, and Favorite Female Owned Retail Store etched into it on a gold-plated base in the air and leaned into the microphone, finishing my speech with, “Thank you so much, again, for all the love and support. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Applause rang through the country club’s room, and as much as I tried to fight it, my gaze landed on Dawson.

He was standing, along with the rest of my family at the table, wearing a look that made me feel ten times larger and like this award was more like him winning the Super Bowl than it really was.

He dipped his chin and kept clapping. I seared the memory of that look of his into my memory. He wasn’t faking that. He really was proud of me. Possibly more so than my own parents, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“Miss Parillo, congratulations.”

I shook our mayor’s hand. “Thank you, sir. Wonderful party tonight, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. Make sure you and that man of yours get some more drinks and cut a rug on the dance floor later.”

“Will do.”

The backstage was darker, and while I could have taken the steps right off the stage down to my seat, I wanted a moment to process everything. The night. The fact I’d won. Maybe I had tried to downplay it, but when I’d found out I was even nominated, I’d cried happy tears for two days. What other woman at the age of twenty-four could look at their life and see all they’d accomplished in such a short time? My store had only been open for less than two years.

The backstage was dark and chilly. Goose bumps pebbled my arms, and I pushed through a door that would take me out to the back patio. I shivered from the sudden change in temperature.

Heat flooded me, and I took a deep breath. The back patio was lit, draped with lights, creating a cozy and warm space that’d been cleared of tables and chairs. Later, once the dancing and drinking began, the patio would be filled with people, mingling and laughing.

For now, the space was mine, nothing but the echo of the noise inside and the chirping of bugs, the occasional burst of light from lightning bugs.

Behind me, the whoosh of a door opening had me turning, but I already knew who it’d be. Dawson would never leave me alone for long. Especially not here.

But oh, how wrong I was.

Ice pricks danced down my spine as Darrick stepped toward me on the patio. My shoulders tightened, and I scanned for exits, but I’d have to go around him to get back inside.

“Congratulations.” He said it with a smile. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

Darrick was attractive. Everyone could see it. More, he knew it. With his sandy-blond hair swept to the side and his chiseled jaw, his rich-blue eyes, he had a smile that could melt cameras.

I’d always thought so. Until I’d had my hands on Dawson’s tattoos and piercings and muscles and the rough feel of his beard as it scraped against my soft skin.

Looking at Darrick then didn’t give me the butterflies I once would have had. Instead, it was disappointment that slipped through my veins, making me cold all over.

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