Page 69 of Blame It On Midnight

Blah. Blah. Blah.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, thinking of the words. There were more, but she pushed them away because it was too painful to remember.

His reply, We’ll talk soon, came shortly after, and then nothing. Now here she was, with perfect glam, wearing pale pink Chanel Haute couture, looking like a million bucks, and she was miserable. It had been an entire week since she’d seen him. Days since that last message. She knew he was going through it, and while she wasn’t mad or upset, she was just…so fucking disappointed at the entire situation.

“You look like you need this.” Her best friend, Bridget, handed her a napkin that held two chocolate-covered strawberries.

“How’d you know?” she asked lightly, popping one into her mouth.

“I just do.” Bridget bumped elbows and motioned at the room. “Looks wonderful. The room was decorated in soft creams and sage green, the tables overflowing with peonies and tulips, and hydrangeas.

Collins nodded. “Harry Boiler was in charge this year.” Harry was a friend of hers and Bridget’s. He was near and dear to them both, and after she’d unloaded her troubles the night before, he’d brought chips and candy corn up to her room. They danced to ’80s pop and sang to Madonna.

It wasn’t enough to banish her funk.

“Is that Shane Gallagher, the artist?” Bridget cranked her neck.

Collins followed her gaze and nodded. “He’s donated two paintings. Pretty sure he’s here with Beau Simon and his wife, Betty Jo Barker. His cousin, Tucker, is Kip’s agent.”

“Holy shit, he’s hot.”

“Beau Simon?”

“No, I mean, yes, he’s amazeballs too, but Shane Gallagher. Wow. Silver fox or what?”

Bridget wasn’t wrong, but there was only one man on her mind, and Collins was trying her best not to think of him. She sipped champagne and looked out at all the familiar faces. Actors and actresses, models, billionaires married to the models, tech wizards, old money, new money, it was an eclectic mix.

Her agent wandered over with Gerard DuPree, her date for the evening. The designer was flamboyant, brilliant, and after their successful shoot, a new friend. They made small talk, and when she spied her brother near the terrace, Collins excused herself and wandered over to him.

“Why are you drinking alone out here?”

A scowl crossed his handsome face. His arm was finally out of his sling, though he was still out. It was looking like he wouldn’t make the roster until spring training next year. He leaned against a wall and stared out at the city. “It’s the same shit every year. The same women. The same tired stories. I never thought I’d grow to dislike the city, but New York is looking old these days.”

She could relate, though she was willing to bet her brother’s aversion to the city was more than just boredom. Keely, his ex-girlfriend and his first serious relationship, was now married to their older brother, Duke. She was six months pregnant, and Collins knew Kip would never admit it, but it bothered him.

He glanced her way. “Did you ever hear from your cowboy?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” He crossed over and kissed her cheek. “Chin up, Colly. The night is young, and though I’m not holding out on a win tonight, I have a feeling things will turn out differently for you.”

He left before she could question him, and she moved toward the edge of the balcony. The sounds of the city usually soothed her, but tonight it was sharp edges and loud voices. She wanted to cover her ears. Close her eyes and think of wide open spaces. That great big Montana sky, filled with all the stars in the universe. She wanted her cowboy. Wanted his arms around her. Wanted his warmth on her.

There was a big hole inside her, and he was the only one who could fill it. Not a smart move on her part, and yet, even if whatever she’d shared with him was over, she couldn’t regret those weeks in Big Bend. Benton Bridgestone made her feel the kind of alive that comes around once in a lifetime.

One lonely tear fell down her cheek, and she closed her eyes against the bright lights. Where was he tonight? What was he doing? Who was he with?

She was still for so long that she had to shake away the shadows when she finally opened her eyes. There was something out there. Lingering on the edge of the balcony. A smell. A memory.

The shadows moved, and she had to blink because a man appeared. Tall, well-built, and tanned, with thick dark hair that waved over the collar of his expensive suit. His face was angles and shadows. It was a square chin, an exceptional jawline. A mouth she’d dreamed of and eyes that could see into her very soul.

Benton.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “Like you belong here.”

His eyes were too shiny, his expression too dark. She took a step toward him, but he closed the distance between them.

“I don’t want to…I don’t belong here,” she said through lips that didn’t seem to work properly. Had she spoken the words out loud? Or were they just in her head?

---