Page 120 of Need You
“Who’s watching the bar?” he asked Boden between bites.
“I’ve got people.” Boden sat next to Deb.
Colt looked over at Win to see if he’d noticed, but his brother was in his own little world. If he continued to move this slow, Deb was going to fall in love with someone else. Boden wouldn’t be a bad choice. Despite his outlaw shtick, he was solid as they come.
They ate and afterward covered the catwalk with some kind of wet-looking vinyl tiles that Delaney had gotten. She’d insisted on hiring a company that specialized in building runways, but he and his brothers had balked at the idea. Their venue, their stage. The chairs were being delivered on Monday. And the special effects people were going to project ski slopes behind the catwalk. Colt had never been to a fashion show but this seemed like a pretty elaborate setup. Delaney appeared pleased with it, because every time he looked up from what he was doing she beamed at him. Her smiles turned him upside down. Everything about her did, and that scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
* * *
On the day of the fashion show, Delaney wouldn’t let go of Colt’s hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous.
“It’s gonna be a big success,” he told her, squeezing her gently. “Try to relax and enjoy everything you’ve accomplished.”
“I have to go back there now and make sure the models are dressed. Where are you sitting?”
He maneuvered her behind one of the big curtains that hung from the ceiling to separate the audience from the backstage area and then drew her into a hidden corner. People were frantically running between the stage and GA’s offices, which had been turned into dressing rooms.
“I’ll sit wherever you want me to.” He kissed her as the ensuing chaos swirled around them, and her worries temporarily melted away. It was just Colt and his big, broad shoulders, bolstering her, making her feel buoyant, even though only a moment ago she felt the weight of the evening pulling her under, like a drowning woman.
“In the front, so I can see you. Okay?”
“Okay.” He lifted her chin. “You’ve got this. You’re Delaney Scott. This is nothing, a walk in the park.”
Right? The top fashion writers in the country were here. As soon as word had gotten out that she was unveiling three new collections—in a small resort town in the Sierra no less—the fashion world went on overdrive. London Fashion Week hadn’t gone well for Olivia and the Delaney Scott brand. The critics called her ready-to-wear line tired and uninspired and her couture collection immature. There were a lot of comparisons to Delaney’s past designs and how Olivia wasn’t doing the house justice. The fashion press was a mercurial lot and could just as easily turn on Delaney as it had on Olivia. The worst part was she didn’t even have a name for her new label yet. One of the fashion magazines had quipped that she was the artist formerly known as Delaney Scott. Surreal that she could no longer use her own name. But no way was she rushing in to adopt another one without a lot of thought.
Her marketing folks said not to worry about it. That by waiting, they’d get a second wave of press as soon as they announced the new name. In the meantime, they were just calling everything DS, which in her mind sounded too much like DK, Donna Karan. And knowing Robert, he’d probably drag her back to court.
“What if the investors don’t like it?”
“How can they not? You’re awesome, baby.”
She smiled and hugged him tight. “Thank you. I . . . you’re the best.”
“Go do what you’ve got to do. If you need me, I’ll be up front.” He’d worn a pair of Colt Cargos and looked so fine in them her knees went weak.
She ran off to see what bedlam she’d find in the dressing rooms, bumping into Foster on the way. He’d done the arrangements for the event. Huge vases of tree branches and an assortment of white, green, and red flowers that Delaney didn’t even know the names of. In Los Angeles, the florist would make a fortune; he was that good.
“One of the models is having a hissy fit. You may want to avoid her right now.”
“Oh, Jesus.” She took off at a run, ready to give her standard pep talk, which consisted of a lot of brown nosing, a promise of an extra grape with dinner, and finally: “If you screw up my show, you’ll never work again.”
By the time she got to the dressing room, the problem had been quelled. But one of the other models needed to be pinned. Her ski pants—a size zero—gapped at the waist. Delaney plucked a handful of straight pins from the cushion around her wrist and with a few strategic tacks, the pants fit like a second skin.
A dresser rushed in, trying to compensate for her carelessness. “Let me help with that, Ms. Scott.”
“No worries. I’ve got it.” Delaney looked up at the model. “Just don’t breathe.”
Surprisingly, everything else appeared quite organized. She credited it to her efficient staff, who’d been doing fashion shows with her since her internship at Marc Jacobs. As anxious as she was, being backstage before a runway show with the hiss of hairspray, the smell of cosmetics, and the hum of blow dryers was as familiar to her as the glamorous lifestyle Colt shunned. Yet, here he was. Cheering her on, knowing full well that the show’s success would reopen the doors to her old world. A world he wanted no part of. Still, her happiness and victory was of paramount importance to him.
The knowledge of that stirred something in her chest, and that’s when she knew. She loved him. Not like she had loved Robert, which had been more about mutual respect and building a business than it had been about passion and selflessness. This was different. This filled her heart to bursting.
“How we doing?” Karen came in, pushing past models in various stages of undress, carrying a clipboard, and wearing a headset to communicate with the stage manager.
“Okay, I think.” Delaney took a deep breath. “Lots of big money here tonight.” She wasn’t sure if it was the press that had gotten them here or the opportunity of a working weekend in one of the most charming towns in California, but she’d take it.
“Good. That’s what this is about. Everything looks great, Delaney. The shows going to be a big success.”
“I hope so.” Out of the side of one eye, she noted one of the dressers struggling with the zippers for the crampons on a pair of cargos. “Not like that, like this.” She demonstrated.
