To Sir, with Love - Lauren Layne Page 0,76

already know this.”

“Right, right, the guy,” she says, her thumbs already working.

“What guy?” Sebastian asks.

“Her dream guy,” Keva explains, turning toward him, fingers still flying over her iPhone. “Long brown hair, not too tall, not too fit. Musician.”

“Lives in Brooklyn. Maybe Alphabet City,” I say. “I’m unclear on that. But his smile’s perfectly imperfect. That, I’m definitely clear on. He’s got a tiny chip from a baseball incident—”

“He’s a musician and plays baseball?” Sebastian asks.

“It’s her fantasy. Don’t take this away from her,” Keva says with a smile.

For the first time since he’s shown up, a shadow cuts through Sebastian’s cocky playfulness, and he looks almost vulnerable.

Then he straightens up and extends a hand for Keva’s phone. “My turn.”

“For what?” I demand, even as Keva hands him her cell without hesitation.

“I want in on the wager,” he says.

I roll my eyes and obediently pucker so Keva can apply a glittery light pink gloss, then adds something sparkly to my cheeks and brow bones.

“Perfect,” Keva says, stepping back and surveying my face. “Damn, I’m good. Bastian, look at my genius.”

Sebastian looks up, momentarily startled at the nickname, then glances over at me. His mouth tilts in the corner. “She looks a bit like…”

“Sexy Tinker Bell,” Keva says. “All those glittery, whimsical paintings of hers come to life.”

“They’re not all glittery and whimsical,” I mutter, reaching for a hand mirror. “Oh. Oh.”

“See?” Keva says, a little bit smug.

“It’s perfect,” I admit. She’s added just the right amount of shimmer so I don’t look like a preteen movie princess, but sort of like a fairy, a sexy fairy, with all the dark smudging she added beneath my eyes.

Sebastian hands Keva her phone back, and she glances down at what he’s entered before giving him a speculative look. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

“What?” I say, extending my palm. “Let me see.”

Sebastian opens his mouth, but Keva’s already shaking her head and tucking her phone into her back pocket. “Nope. We’ll see who won the wager at the end of the evening, and for now, I want you”—she points at me—“to focus on getting dressed. And I—Holy moly, is that the time? I need to go get myself fancy.”

She gathers the rest of her makeup and tucks it under her arm. “We still taking a car together?” she asks. “They’re not like sending you a limo or something?”

I laugh. “I don’t think I’m quite to limo level yet.”

“Soon though,” Keva says, wagging a finger. “Very soon you’re going to take the art world by storm, and I’ll be making food for all the celebrities paying thousands for a ticket to fight for the chance to buy your pieces.”

“I’d be happy if a noncelebrity bought one of my pieces,” I say, letting the nerves I’ve been battling all day slip out.

Keva rolls her head over to Sebastian. “Bastian, I’m assigning you pep talk duty. I’ve got to get ready.”

“On it,” he says.

“Perfect,” Keva says. “Gracie, see you in—crap, twenty-two minutes?” My front door slams, and I hear thuds as Keva takes the stairs two at a time.

“I don’t need a pep talk,” I tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

No. I pick up the vase of flowers he brought me and inhale.

“Every piece will sell,” Sebastian says with quiet confidence.

I look up in surprise. “You can’t know that.”

He smiles innocently. “As you know, I have excellent business sense.”

“You know what fails. I’ve yet to see your chops when it comes to sensing when something will succeed.”

“Ah, but the More part of your store didn’t fail,” he says lightly. “The fact that tonight is happening is proof that while there may not be a market for a niche champagne shop in Midtown, there is a market for Gracie Cooper paintings.”

“I’d never thought of it that way,” I say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Our gazes hold for a moment, and I forget that I’m supposed to have moved him to the friend column.

That he has someone else, and that as of tonight, I might too.

He straightens and steps nearer so I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “I wish you could be there,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

Sebastian reaches for my hand and squeezes. “It’ll work out the way that it should. Trust me.”

His hand drops, and he steps back and turns away. I bite back a protest. This feels wrong.

“Sebastian.” He turns back around, his eyes bright with something I don’t recognize.

“Why?” I ask softly. “Why did you tell me to pursue the other guy?”

He steps