Page 59 of Drop Shot
She descends slowly down the stairs, looking like a fucking princess. My sister follows behind, but I only have eyes for Whimsy.
How was I so blind before to how utterly breathtaking this woman is?
It’s not only her looks, but her entire persona.
When she reaches the final stair, I offer her my hand. She settles hers in it as I carefully tug her to me, my hand brushing the bare skin of her shoulder above the dress.
“Whim…” I struggle to find words. “You’re stunning.”
“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Bleh.” Ebba mock gags. “Get a room.”
I roll my eyes at my sister’s antics. “Thanks for helping her get ready.”
She snorts. “I didn’t do it for you.” She pulls Whimsy into a hug. “These things can be a lot but try to enjoy it.”
“I’ll try my best.” She tosses a smile my sister’s way. Giving my hand a squeeze, she says, “Let’s go. We’ve kept the driver waiting long enough.”
“We,” I scoff playfully, reaching to open the door with my free hand.
“Okay,me,but you did too by pure association.” Her eyes glimmer with humor. I can see her nerves circling behind that humor, but she’s trying.
Outside, a Rolls Royce sits in my driveway waiting for us.
“Jeez, they really do go all out, don’t they?” she asks as the driver gets out and opens the back door for us.
“You have no idea,” I reply, helping Whimsy to pick up her dress and get situated in the car. She goes to scoot over, but I shake my head. “Stay put. I’ll sit on the other side.”
Once her dress is settled, the driver closes the door and goes around to open the other for me. I slip inside, having to laugh a little at how much room Whimsy’s dress takes up.
She laughs, trying to settle the fabric around her legs. “It’s a lot, I know.”
“It’s a beautiful dress.”
She smiles at my praise. I know Whimsy likes fashion, and I also know she likes being complimented on it. “You should. You paid for it.”
I chuckle. “This is true.”
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive until we arrive at the hotel where the event is being held.
I double check my phone for the information Jackson sent.
“This way.” I steer Whimsy toward the elevator bay. I can tell she’s nervous from the way her shoulders are threatening to rise to her ears. “Take a breath,” I whisper in her ear as the doors slide shut.
She sends a pleading look my way. “I don’t want to say something stupid. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
I gape at the beautiful woman beside me. “You could never embarrass me.”
She frowns. “You don’t know that.”
“I’m not easily embarrassed,” I say, just as the elevator dings, signaling our floor. “If you’re really that worried about it, maybe we should have a signal?” I suggest, tugging her aside in the hallway outside of the room.
“A signal?” she repeats. “Like what?”
“You could give my hand a squeeze?” I suggest.
She wrinkles her nose. “I might do that just from nerves.”
