Page 54 of If You Claim Me
“Ms. Reformer.” He nods and half-bows.
“It’s just Dred.”
He looks to Connor, as though he’s seeking clarification or permission.
I jump in with an explanation, hoping to break the tension. “It’s a nickname. Mildred is pretty spot on, considering my profession, and Dred makes me feel like less of a nerdy librarian and more like I belong on some secret superhero squad.”
Connor’s face grows ten times more attractive as a half smile tips the right corner of his mouth. I wish the photographers had followed us up here, so he’d have another reason to put his lips on mine again. That is a problem, but I’ll deal with it later.
“Okay, Dred.” Henrick relaxes a little. “Would you like to see the ballroom where your reception will be held?”
“That would be great.”
He leads us down the hall to a set of beautiful white-and-gold double doors. Opening them with a dramatic flourish I sincerely appreciate, he ushers us inside.
“Oh, this is amazing.” It’s fairy-tale beautiful. Chandeliers dripping crystals hang from the ceiling, and the room is a soft cream with gold accents. The floor is polished wood, the round tables are draped with cream tablecloths, and an array of napkins and chair covers in a variety of fabrics have been laid out for us.
But it’s the sheer size of the room that has me leaning in to whisper, “This is huge. How many people are coming to this shindig?”
“All of your friends and everyone my parents know,” Connor says.
“And your friends,” I add.
“I don’t have many of those, as I’m sure you’ve come to realize.”
“What about the guys on the team?” I know from Lexi that he’s closest to Kellan Ryker and Quinn Romero, and that he’s stayed tight with some of his other Hockey Academy connections.
“They’re teammates. That’s different.”
“What about Kodiak Bowman?” Kodiak and his wife attended Tristan and Rix’s wedding this past summer.
Connor makes a noise but doesn’t disagree.
I hug his arm and tip my chin up. He bends to give me his ear again. “I think you’re so used to being the scapegoat that you’ve forgotten you can be something else.”
His expression turns wry. “What are you, an inspirational calendar?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, fuck you.”
His grin turns lascivious. “As I’ve mentioned, I’m happy to write that into our agreement anytime.”
Henrick clears his throat.
I drop Connor’s arm and put a few inches of space between us.
Henrick’s face has turned red. “Your private tasting session is through here.” He motions to a set of doors.
We follow him into a small room where a table has been set for two. Low lighting and flickering candles give it a romantic air. Connor steps up before the waitstaff can and tucks my chair in, then takes his own.
Two servers put our napkins in our laps and pour us water, then offer us a selection of handcrafted cocktails. I opt for a lavender-rose gimlet, and Connor declines, noting that he’s the driver. The servers bring out the first course, which is a decadent lobster bisque, drizzled with lemon butter and garnished with tarragon. Next is fresh pear and walnut salad on a bed of baby greens, sprinkled with gorgonzola cheese, including a vegan option for those who don’t consume dairy. Every course looks like art and tastes divine.
Connor samples each item wearing the same intense expression. It’s hot, but also, it defeats the purpose of this adventure.
When we have a moment to ourselves, I lean forward. “Isn’t this supposed to be fun?”
He frowns. “I’m sorry?”
I motion to the crab-stuffed mushroom caps. “This isprobably the best food I’ve ever tasted, and you’re over there looking like you’re being graded on your table manners.”
