Page 46 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

The rest of the presentation flows smoothly, with board members asking increasingly technical questions that suggest they’re taking our approach seriously. When the chairwoman asks about implementation security protocols, I nearly hug her–it’s the kind of question you only ask when you’ve decided to move forward.

“Well,” the chairwoman concludes, tapping her pen against her notepad, “this is certainly thorough. The Johnsons’ initial response has been positive, but they’ll want to see more concrete results before making their final decision.”

“Actually,” Garrett interjects, checking his phone, “Mr. Johnson just requested an informal update at tomorrow night’s charity gala. He wants to discuss the beta test results in person before their board meeting next week.”

My stomach twists with nervous anticipation. The annual Silver Springs Children’s Hospital Gala will be my first public event with Lucas since we started dating. Maintaining professional composure while watching him work the room in a tuxedo? That might require superhuman restraint.

“Perfect,” Lucas says smoothly. “Emma and I can walk him through the latest metrics.”

I shoot him a look. He responds with that half-smile that still makes my knees weak, even now that I’m allowed to kiss it off his face—which I’d done just this morning when he used it over breakfast.

“Very well.” The chairwoman stands, gathering her papers. “We’ll expect a full report after their final decision. And Ms. Hastings?”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps stay away from the fountain this year.”

I resist the urge to groan.

One time. I fell in the fountain ONE TIME, and only because Sophie bet me I couldn’t balance on the edge while reciting market projections. In my defense, I got through three-quarters of the quarterly figures before the splash. And the photos only made it to three department bulletin boards, not the entire company newsletter as rumored.

As the board files out, Lucas moves closer under the pretense of gathering presentation materials. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “I’ll be right beside you. Someone has to be ready for an encore of the Great Fountain Incident of 2022.”

“That was entirely your sister’s fault, and you know it.” But I’m smiling, remembering how he’d jumped in after me without hesitation, ruining his ridiculously expensive suit. “Though you did look pretty dashing, all soaked and outraged.”

“Pretty sure that was the highlight of Garrett’s entire year.” His voice drops lower, making my pulse flutter. “But I kind of like being your disaster prevention specialist.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now? Because I seem to remember you encouraging at least half of my chaos.”

“More like damage control with style.”

Before he can elaborate on exactly what kind of style he means, Garrett clears his throat from the doorway. The momentshatters as we glance up to see him standing there, disapproval radiating from his perfectly pressed suit.

“Mr. Walker? A word about tomorrow’s arrangements?”

Lucas straightens, but not before brushing his fingers across my wrist. “Of course.”

When he returns fifteen minutes later, his expression is a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Garrett’s worried about us maintaining ‘appropriate professional distance’ at the gala. Apparently, the Johnsons’ final decision could hinge on how we present ourselves.”

“So, no stealing you for closet makeout sessions between client conversations?” I tease.

“Tempting, but maybe we save that for after we secure the contract.” He draws me close, the boardroom empty enough now for a moment of privacy. “Though you should know, Mom’s already telling everyone you’re coming as my date. She’s practically giddy.”

“Sophie mentioned. Apparently, she’s warning the fountain.”

“It’s not the fountain I’m worried about.” His thumb traces circles on my hip. “It’s how I’m supposed to focus on impressing clients when you’ll be in whatever designer dress you’ve chosen.”

“Professional distance, Mr. Walker,” I remind him, but I lean into his touch.

“Very professional. Just like how you weren’t staring at me during the entire presentation.”

“I was looking at the slides!”

“The slides weren’t wearing this tie you picked out.”

It’s true. I’d selected this blue tie this morning. I’d held it up against his suit as he was getting dressed, claiming it matched the graphics in our presentation, though I loved how it brought out his eyes.

My phone buzzes with another text from Sophie:

---