Page 31 of Hot Blooded
It’s a book of poetry I’ve never heard of. The text in the front matter boasts the year 1789. I feel almost dizzy. All of these precious and amazing gifts. I carefully leaf through the pages, my eyes scanning the words. It takes only a second of the weight of this moment to hit me. It’s a book of love poems. I close the book and hug it to my chest. I know I’ll be reading this later in bed, savoring each word.
There’s a knock at my door and I wonder briefly if I’ll get to thank Reign for these gifts in person, but when I open it, I find Mrs. Potts standing on the other side.
“Hello.” I grin at her, still holding the book of poetry. I may or may not be clutching it to my chest like it’s a newborn baby.
“You found the gift.” She nods, eyes twinkling.
“It’s incredible.”
“Try on the dress,” she instructs, entering the room. “Reign wants to make sure it fits. I have the number for a seamstress, if not.”
Of course, Reign has a contingency plan in case his gift doesn’t fit. Something tells me he’s not the kind of man who leaves anything to chance. Everything he does is thoughtful and well-concocted.
I set my book down on the dresser and grab the dress to try on. I’m eager to see how it looks too.
A swell of longing surges inside me. If I’m not careful, I could see myself falling for a man who would be all wrong for me.
Mrs. Potts gives me some privacy, and then watches me stand before the full-length mirror in the dress.
“It’s perfect,” she says in a soft voice, one hand on her chest. If I didn’t know better, I would think her eyes are misty at the sight of me.
But she’s right. I love it. The dress looks like it was made just for me. It fits perfectly over my curves, and it’s elegant and simple, but completely sexy. I move to admire the dress from different angles, noticing how it dips low in the back, and I try my best not to fantasize about my evening out with Reign—his hand on my bare skin as we spin on the dance floor. I fail miserably.
“He’s warming up to you.”
I shake off her comment, not willing to relate the details of our stolen kiss. Although I can’t think of anything to say to her that isn’t a lie.We’re strictly professional.Not true.There’s nothing between us.Also, a lie.
Not that I have any idea what is actually between us. Maybe the kiss was a one-off. Then again, he’s invited me along to this gala. I swallow the hope that it means something to him like it does to me.
Chapter 17
Tressa
The day of the gala, I spend an inordinate amount of time getting ready. I take a long bath and shave, well, everywhere, then I blow-dry my hair and carefully applied my makeup. I’m ridiculously excited for a fancy evening out. Maybe especially because Reign has been avoiding me all week, making more trips than usual to feed, and avoiding getting too near. It’s like he’s actively avoiding talking about that kiss last week. The kiss I can’t stop thinking about…
I’m about to slip into my gown when my phone buzzes with a text.
I pad across the bedroom in my robe and grab the phone from my bed. It’s Lena.
Lena:Hey babe – send me a pic of your dress in case I don’t see you tonight!
I roll my eyes and type out a reply.
Tressa:I’ll see you! I’m going to look for you when I arrive.
Her message back pops up a second later.
Lena:It’s a big place, but yeah, I’ll look for you too. Still-send me a pic! I need to live vicariously through you. I’m wearing awful tuxedo pants and a white shirt.
Tressa:I’m sure you look adorable as always,I reply.
Lena:There’s already a greasy stain on my shirt!
Her next text is photographic evidence of said greasy stain and Lena is frowning.
I chuckle and reply.
Tressa:Still adorable.
