Page 70 of Say You Remember Me
“I don’t know…” Maddie’s lips pressed together, her brows drawing in slightly as she considered my words. “I feel like what I’ve worn so far has been fine…” She lifted her hand. “And this huge rock on my finger isn’t exactly tiny.”
“I know,” I interrupted gently, leaning closer. “And I absolutely love your style. You dress beautifully, and it’s perfect for work and for you—so please don’t take this the wrong way. But for the events tonight and tomorrow, I think it might be fun to really lean into the part. Maybe something over the top. Gaudy, even. Let’s stand out a little.”
“Gaudy?” Her eyes narrowed playfully.
“Okay, maybe not gaudy.” I chuckled, liking the spark of amusement in her tone. “But dramatic. The kind of dress that screams, ‘My man has a Black Amex, and he loves to spoil me with it.’”
She laughed, though I could tell she was still trying to find a way to politely decline. “Ian, I really don’t need?—”
“Maddie, come on.” I held up my hands. “It’s all for the act. For Margot. This is a tactical move.”
Let me spoil you just a little.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes even though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I guess I’ll let you buy me a fancy dress.” Then holding up a scolding finger, she added, “But only because you’re forcing it on me.”
“Good girl,” I said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “And don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
She shook her head, but I caught a hint of a blush on her cheeks. Like, even though she was trying not to look excited for this shopping trip, she might actually be.
Which, yeah, was so endearing.
Man, she was so different from all the other women I’d dated.
Most women I knew would have snatched the card out of my hand the moment I offered.
But not her. She was different—a refreshingly good kind of different.
And I couldn’t wait to see what she picked out.
Because I had a strong feeling that this soccer mom who wore a T-shirt and cutoffs when she wasn’t at work could also secretly rock a ten-thousand-dollar cocktail dress.
24
MADDIE
“Areyou sure you can skip the rest of the summit this afternoon?” I turned to Ian after we left the restaurant, unable to stop myself from asking the question that had been giving me anxiety all through our lunch with Mrs. Torres. “Won’t they be upset if you’re not there?”
“It should be fine.” Ian glanced at me, his expression relaxed. “My keynote was the main event. As long as I’m at the mixers tonight, mingling and making connections, my dad and the board can’t complain about me playing hooky this afternoon.”
“Hooky?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. “That doesn’t sound very responsible of you, Mr. Hastings.”
He chuckled, his smile easy. “You should try it sometime, Ms. Stevens. It’s liberating.”
I shook my head, laughing softly as we made our way back to the hotel. “All right, if you’re sure you won’t get in trouble.”
“Positive.”
Once we reached his room, Ian turned to me. “I’m gonna change into something more comfortable, then we can head out. Meet me back here in twenty minutes?”
“Sure,” I said, not remembering if I’d ever seen him wearing anything besides a suit in public—aside from the time we’d met in North Carolina. “What kind of clothes should I wear for this shopping trip? Should I just stay in this dress?”
“Just wear whatever you’d normally wear shopping,” he said, giving me a good once over. But then his gaze landed on my heels. “But maybe wear something more comfortable for walking. The shops on Newbury Street are only about half a mile away, but I’ve heard something about stilettos being torture devices invented by men. I don’t want you in pain all afternoon.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I teased.
“I try,” he said, his grin crooked.
I couldn’t help but smile as I nodded. “All right. Flats it is.”
