Page 133 of Hide and Keep

Hairstylist. Makeup artist. People other than Ever…they do still exist.

I let go of Ever, but just barely, keeping less than a foot between us, until her shoes are brought out, then I drop to a knee, telling everybody, “I got those.”

Without any straps to fasten, I help ease her feet into the high heels.

Finished, I look up at her, finding her gazing down at me through those mink lashes.

It’s a good thing other people are in the room with us or I’d probably do something stupid like bring her forward, lift her skirt just enough for me to fit under, then dive. It’d be hours before I resurfaced…if I did at all.

“Ready?” I ask, and she nods.

Getting to my feet has never physically pained me before, but right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on my knees.

A million dollars, a million dollars, a million dollars.No one tastes better than a million dollars.

That’d be a hell of a lot easier to believe if my protectee didn’t look like she might right now.

Isit right next to Ever in the back of the limo. Neither of us speaks to the other. She doesn’t even look in my direction, choosing to stare out the window instead. But we both keep a hand on the thighs closest to each other. Once the vehicle’s in motion, she reaches over to play with the beads of her bracelet. Each time she twists one, her fingertip grazes the underside of my wrist, the strokes on the thin skin creating goose bumps all over my body.

“Your dress is white,” I say to distract myself.

“Perceptive.”

“The dress your ordered a month ago was white.”

Ever doesn’t stop looking out the window but she does freeze her hand, her palm hovering centimeters over mine. If she were to lower it the slightest bit, we’d be holding hands.

“Maybe I ordered another white dress.”

“Maybe there never was another dress.”

It’s a full minute before she resumes toying with the bracelet, repeating softly, “Perceptive.”

So all that money did go toward my new wardrobe. She lied to…protect herself? Protect me?

“Carter.”

“Who?” I give her a scathing look…until I realize she’s talking about the teddy bear again.

“No.”

“Grant?”

I shake my head.

“King.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Arad?”

Forty minutes and at least fifteen more bear names later, we pull off the main road onto a long winding gravel one, passing several metal artistic structures along the way until we reach one that resembles a giant egg on its side. Judging by the lights inside, the egg is a house of some sort. Or at least a building.

The moment I’m out of the vehicle, the clones descend as if they’d been waiting for her in the goddamn bushes.

Paris gives me a friendly grin that I don’t return as I help Ever out of the limo. Ever glances at her friend, then me.

I give her the barest shake of my head. Paris doesn’t even register.

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