“Who is she?” Frederick asks when Astor comes striding down the runway.
“Astor. Isn’t she beautiful?” She popped up the other day to drop something off.
The second I spotted her I knew she had to be in the show. She’s going to be my grand finale model, so to speak. I have a special piece I’ve been working on that is going to look gorgeous on her. The second I saw her I knew it was meant for her.
Never in my life have I seen someone with violet eyes. They are breathtaking, but everything about her is. She should be a model, walking runways around the world—not hidden away in the middle of nowhere. But I can tell that girl is a through and through cowgirl. The confidence in her walk says it all. She’s sure of herself but not in an overwhelming cocky way. After this show that might change. Agencies will be beating down door.
“If I was gonna go straight it would be for her.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m going to try to get her to sign a deal with me if this pans out.”
“You are going to kill this. How did you even come up with this idea?” Frederick asks as the models all do another practice walk down the runway. None of them have ever walked it before, so they’ve done a few runs to work out some of their nerves.
“They all work for the catering company. When I saw all of them in their plain black uniforms, the idea just hit me.”
I thought it would be different to have them all out serving drinks and food before the show. It would be a surprise to see them each drop the uniforms and change to walk the runway. To show everyone that clothes can change a whole mood. They are art for your body and a way to express yourself.
“You’re a genius. I think coming here has been good for you and your creativity. Or maybe it’s something else that’s been good for you,” Frederick teases, causing me to blush.
“I can’t take all the credit. Calder and the entire Justice family have worked their butts off to make sure everything was perfect for tonight.”
“You’ve really taken to the Justice family.” He lifts a brow.
“I have. They’re all really sweet. Sometimes they're a bit prickly and guarded. But occasionally you catch them letting those walls fall, allowing you to get these rare moments with them.”
I don’t know what it is, but all of them have built up walls. Mainly when it comes to women. At first I thought it was sexist or something, but the more I watch them I actually think it’s to protect themselves. From what, I’m unsure. You’d think they’re all broken-hearted, but all of them are very single.
“You know they call those Justice boys unclaimable. Many have tried but all have failed. Except you, of course.” He smirks. I force a smile.
“I don’t know what Calder and I are.” Sure, he pinned me down and pretty much staked his claim on me, but we never talked about the future. Or what one might look like for us. There is no denying the man wants me. I don’t think you can fake the way he is with me.
Still there is this invisible wall between us. I can’t see it but I sense it. I’ve left it alone for now. The reality is we’ve only known each other for a month. He might think I’m a bit crazy if I ask for more than what he and I are already giving each other.
“I think what you are is in love.” I nod.
I haven’t admitted that to anyone before now. Not even myself because it scares me. Calder may have said he would never let me go in the throes of passion, but I can’t help wondering what will happen when my time is up here.
For the first time in a long time I feel like I belong. It’s scary to think I could lose this. That wouldn’t be worth all the money in the world. Calder makes me long for things I’ve never let myself dream about.
A family of my very own. For all I know we’ve already started one.
Chapter Seventeen
Calder
The evening goes off without a flaw. Buyers are lining up to place orders for Birdie’s collection. Her eyes are starry, and her face is flushed with success. Happiness looks good on her. That’s the fashion I want to keep her in every season.
“Don’t you have a conscience?” hisses a woman’s voice.
I look over my shoulder to see Widow Justice glaring at me. Her arms are crossed, and her long nails tap impatient, staccato beats on her arms.
“Obviously or I would’ve kicked you to the curb weeks ago,” I drawl.
Her face darkens. “I knew you hated me.”