Just One Kiss (Very Irresistible Bachelors #2) - Layla Hagen Page 0,21
trusty breathing technique had gotten me through intense conversations with my editor and difficult interviews.
But it was no match for Ryker.
“That would depend on what you’re asking.”
“You know the March Ballroom Gala is coming up next week.”
“Of course. The entire city knows about it.”
“I want you and Avery to come.”
Wow. I sank lower in the armchair, pressing my palm above that pesky spot on my stomach. It wasn’t tight now anymore... just full of butterflies, which was not helping.
“Aren’t the invitations for donors only?”
“They’re for whoever we want there, Heather. And I want you and Avery there.”
“I thought the invitations were sent out months ago.”
I was buying time. I just didn’t know what to say.
I had to say no.
I wanted to say yes.
Avery would love it. Crap, I couldn’t use that as an excuse... but I almost did. I’d only known this man for two weeks, and yet, I wanted to be around him every chance I got.
“You told me you’d love to come to one.”
“I don’t know anyone in the city who wouldn’t.”
“So why aren’t you saying yes?”
I licked my lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll love it.”
“How can you be so sure I’ll come?”
“It’s still one week away. Plenty of time for me to win you over. And I intend to do just that.” Had his purpose been to make me blush and grin at the same time? Because he’d succeeded with flying colors. I’d almost asked how exactly he intended to do that but caught myself in time. I didn’t need to know everything. In fact, it was better if I didn’t.
***
Avery and I spent that evening pampering ourselves. I loved these quiet evenings at home with her, where we got to dream and just be girly. I’d brought out the nail polish and was currently painting her nails. Next, I did mine, even applying a coat of glitter (having a kid gave me a perfect excuse to let my inner four-year-old come out and play).
Once we were done, we both danced around the house, waving our nails in an exaggerated manner for the polish to dry (I’d learned the hard way that even with a coat of “quick-dry” you were never safe for at least fifteen minutes).
We blasted music through the living room, being silly and just forgetting about the world, right until the doorbell rang. I stilled. Avery frowned as I turned down the volume. Had it been too loud?
“Is someone coming to visit?” she asked.
“No.”
I just hoped it wasn’t the landlord, coming to tell me that he’d changed his mind and two months of prepaid rent wasn’t enough.
“Why don’t you go to your room while I see who it is?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
In case it was the landlord, I didn’t want Avery to hear us. I hadn’t told her that we might have to move. We’d painted the walls in her room by ourselves, bought the furniture together. It was the first real home we’d both had. I wouldn’t lose it.
I gave myself a mental pep talk, trying to decide on the best course of action in the seconds it took me to reach the door.
It wasn’t my landlord. It was a delivery guy holding an envelope.
“Ms. Heather Prescott?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“What is it?”
He cocked a brow. “I don’t know. I’m just delivering. Sign here, please.”
I signed the sheet of paper he held in front of me.
After he left, I closed the door, leaning against it and inspecting the envelope. It didn’t say who the sender was. Everything I’d received from my landlord before had had his contact information scribbled on it.
Come on, Heather. You’re not a chicken. Just open it.
I opened the envelope and found two smaller ones inside. They were golden, and I could swear they smelled like lavender. One had my name on it, one Avery’s. What on earth? I opened the one addressed to me.
Dear Ms. Heather Prescott,
You are hereby cordially invited to the first spring ball. We are celebrating in style on Friday at the March Ballroom Gala. The party starts at 6:00 pm. We hope you will join us and look forward to your RSVP.
Yours,
The Winchester & Caldwell Families
I reread the invitation about five times before it sank in. Below was an RSVP card with the date of the event on it. Oh, Ryker. I couldn’t believe he’d actually done this. I didn’t even know they sent out printed invitations. I held it closer to my nose, sniffing. It smelled like lavender. He probably knew my address from the