Gage (Pittsburgh Titans 3)

I manage to exit the car gracefully with the help of the driver’s hand. Sophie follows behind, nudging me with her shoulder. “Ready to do this?”

“Ready,” I affirm with a nod.

“We absolutely will not get sucked into conversation with Aneta or her friends.” She’s repeating a mantra we agreed upon as we shopped this afternoon.

“No conversation,” I agree.

“We will bail each other out if we get cornered by Aneta or her posse.”

“I got your back,” I vow.

“And I’ve got yours,” she says and holds out a pinky. “Promise.”

Laughing, I latch my littlest finger with hers, and we swear to be each other’s social wingmen.

It’s crowded inside, music piping through speakers in every room. It’s not too loud, but with the chatter of all these people, it’s a bit overwhelming.

My eyes search for Gage. In a normal crowd, he’d stand out due to his height, but among a bunch of other hockey players, not so easy.

“There they are,” Sophie says, craning her neck as she stands on her toes. And yes, I see Gage standing with Baden and Stone, along with a beautiful redhead I assume is Harlow. I’ve only heard a little about her from Gage as she and Stone have not been together long.

Sophie takes my hand, and we wind through people until the crowd parts and there stands Gage.

His eyes come immediately to mine, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he takes me in.

I know what he sees, for I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time tonight after I’d finished dressing.

My hair is swept to the side across my forehead and pulled back into a sleek ponytail that sits high on the back of my head. The tail end of it brushes my mid-back.

The makeup Sophie had done for me is far heavier than I usually wear but entirely appropriate for an evening cocktail party. Smoky shadow, dark cat-eye liner, and three layers of mascara, all designed to draw attention to my eyes.

The first thing Gage ever noticed about me.

Three different shades of blush highlight my cheekbones, making them far more pronounced than I could ever do, and she insisted I wear a bright cherry-red lipstick to match the color of the dress I picked.

It was a bold move on my part. I’ve always looked good in red with my tanned skin and golden hair, but it’s a color I’ve shied away from the past several years because red is an attention-getter, and I didn’t want people looking at me.

I’m making a statement tonight by donning such a flamboyant shade, but not so others will notice me.

Not even for Gage to notice me.

But for me to proclaim that I don’t care if others are bothered by what they see.

I walk toward Gage, and the rest of the room fades away. His eyes shimmer with a mix of pride and desire. They slowly move up and down, taking in my entire ensemble. While the shawl may cover my shoulders, the way I have it tucked into the crooks of my arms leaves the entire front of my dress exposed.

What little of it there is.

Oh, it comes down long enough, hugging my curves all the way to mid-calf with nothing but a side slit that allows enough room to walk. The silky ruching runs horizontally across my body. The top goes straight across my chest, molding my breasts, and revealing the barest hint of cleavage. It’s not a true strapless design, though, as thin spaghetti straps slink over my shoulders.

“Wow,” he says appreciatively as he takes me in.

I smile at him, shrugging the shawl from my shoulders. I fold it over one arm and then proceed to do a slow three-sixty so he can see the back. It’s not much different from the front, merely silhouetting my curves.

But what is different is that I’m not covering up the scars on my back. While the ponytail hangs down the middle, it does nothing to hide the network of patched scars visible from the tops of my shoulder down to where the dress covers them at mid-back. The skirt is long enough that you can’t see them on my legs unless I’m walking, but then there are slight peeks of the scars at my thighs.

When I face Gage once again, his eyes burn with fierce adoration. His voice is gruff as he steps into me. Hands going to my face, which has become his signature move to hold my attention, his gaze bores into me. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you do tonight.”

An epic, sweeping feeling of warmth and love pulses through me, and I rise on my toes to brush my mouth against his. “This is for you and you alone. But if others see, I’m okay with that too.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises and then pulls me into his side. “Let me introduce you around.”