Bitter Love (Boys of Silver Ridge 3)

If the venue wasn’t so stark and modern, I’d pretend I was attending a Bridgerton-era ball, looking for a potential suitor. I am, in a way, just not someone to marry, but someone to help fund my charity…which isn’t even an official charity yet.

Taking a small sip of champagne, I try not to let myself get overwhelmed. I make small talk with the others at the table, telling them my story of how I came to be in charge of a rag-tag rescue. It’s tragic, really, and I never realized how much so until I’m saying it out loud to a group of strangers. My eyes get a little misty, and I have to look away when I get to the part about finding Aunt Kim’s body.

“And we should be able to bring our latest auction save home from the vet soon. He’s been there for weeks, being treated for pneumonia,” I go on. “The vet said he’s impressed with how driven he is to get better.”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Mr. Rudolph asks, and for a split second, I think he means Pongo. But then I follow his gaze and see Jacob standing only a few yards away. He’s wearing a sharp, three-piece black suit and looks absolutely stunning. His usually messy hair is swept back a bit, making his blue eyes stand out even more. As if he can feel my gaze on him, he turns, and the second our eyes meet, he smiles.

And I smile too, shocked to see him, and even more shocked at the relief I feel to have someone here that I know and trust.

“Yes, that’s him. The vet,” I reply, eyes still on Jacob, unable to get over how good he looks. Though, I think I prefer him in a t-shirt, jeans, and muddy boots. My heart skips a beat, fluttering inside my chest, and whoever Jacob was talking to says something that’s lost on him, and they turn, following the direction he’s looking in.

Jacob snaps his attention back, and I turn my head back to the people at my table to whom I was just talking; though, I’ve completely forgotten what I’ve said. The others start talking, filling the silence, and I excuse myself from the table to get a drink from the bar. All I want is a nonalcoholic iced tea instead of the super dry champagne.

I’ve only made it a few paces from the table when Jacob turns away from the little group he was talking to again, this time, stepping my way.

“Now I understand the dress emergency,” he says as he runs his eyes slowly over me. “You look…” He brings his eyes back to mine. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” A bit of color rushes to my cheeks. “You don’t look so bad yourself. It’s quite a change from how we normally look, right?’

He smiles, his handsome face lighting up. “I can’t decide if I like it or not.”

“I thought the same thing,” I laugh. “And here I am running into you again in the last place I expected to.”

“I’ve been Poppy’s unofficial plus-one to this event for the last few years. When she said she couldn’t make it…she must have told you to come in her place, right?”

“Right. She thought it would be a good place to come and meet people who like to donate to horse charities.”

“It is.” He steps next to me and leans in closer. God, he smells wonderful, and just the perfect amount of stubble covers his face. I want to put my hand on his cheek and feel it against my palm. “That woman in the bright green dress,” he starts, and I look at his eyes, following the direction of his gaze. “That’s Meryl Hitchens. She runs the largest rescue in Michigan. She can be a little odd to talk to at times, but she’d be a good person to make acquittances with.”

“Look at you, dishing all the dirt,” I whisper, and playfully nudge him with my elbow.

Jacob laughs. “Hah. I wouldn’t go that far. Though, I could introduce you to a few other founders of rescues.”

“I would really appreciate that. This kind of thing is pretty out of my comfort zone,” I confess. “But I’m trying to suck it up, ya know, so I can do the best I can for those horses.”

Jacob’s hand lands on the small of my back and a shiver runs down my spine. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the delicate silk of my dress, and I slowly turn, bringing a hand up to rest on his chest. I’m not even aware of what I’m doing and stop myself with my fingers just hovering inches from him.

I’m looking into his eyes, about to come up with some sort of excuse. There was a piece of lint on his jacket? Yeah, that sounds believable. But then a string quartet starts playing and people move to the dance floor.