My eyelids drooped. My feet ached. My body was rundown.
The photographer swapped out SD cards and conferred with the label suits. If there was ever a time to develop heat vision, now was the time.
Where the hell was Holden? How long could his call be taking?
The passenger elevator arrived on the floor. Heads turned at the rumbling from the wooden security gate raising.
Stepping out of the darkened area was the one man who never ceased to surprise me. He scanned the room and focused on me, sitting on the couch with a metric ton of fabric all around me.
Christmas morning excitement smashed into me, nearly toppling me over.
Keyton was here. How the hell was he here? How’d he even know where to find me? I wanted to jump up, sweeping this dress along with me, and run to him. But I was pinned to the couch.
Working furiously, I unclipped, unpinned and unhooked the dress from the chaise lounge I’d been propped up on so long my right ass cheek was numb. A pin jabbed me. I kept going and sucked on the finger.
He crossed the space without a glance at anyone else. The corner of his mouth lifted and he crouched in front of me. “Looks like you could use a rescue, princess.”
A thrill raced down my spine and I was ready to find a tower-long braid to throw out the nearest window.
I glanced down at my ridiculous dress and smiled, tramping down a giddy middle school laugh. “Come to get me from my tower?”
“That can be arranged.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back until Tuesday.” Staring at him, I couldn’t keep the starry-eyed look out of my eyes.
“Gwen worked her magic and here I am.”
“Looks like someone’s getting a whole case of wine for Christmas.” To think at one point, I’d been melt-your-face-off jealous of her. She’d shot up to the top of my favorite people list.
“It’ll be gone by New Year’s.” He laughed and looked at the warehouse of material around me like he was trying to figure out where the bottom half of me was.
“How did you know where I was?” I tried to stand, but caught on a few clips I missed.
He swooped in and freed me. “Holden. I messaged your phone and he gave me the location and said you could use a jailbreak.”
“He’s not here?” I whipped, shielding my eyes to look beyond the lights on stands all around the set. The table he’d been set up at was empty. “He’s not even in the building?”
“It didn’t sound that way from his message. You didn’t know he was gone?” A frown formed.
I shook my head.
“We can worry about that later.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the sea of people all here for me, but probably just as sick of being here as I was. And down at my dress—the twenty-third of the shoot. How many more pictures did they need to take? After eight hours they had to have found at least one that didn’t make me look like an insecure high school kid. Had I ever even left that version of me behind, or was this all to try to cover up who I’d been back then?
It only seemed fitting that Keyton come to my rescue.
I slipped my hand into his.
The rough scrub of his callused fingers against my skin raised goosebumps all over my body.
His fingers squeezed mine like he hadn’t thought I’d actually come with him.
“Where are we going?”
“Away.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes shooting to the industrial elevator.
I nodded.
“Let’s go.” We both stood and leisurely strolled toward the elevator like no one would notice the football player and the woman in 157 yards of fabric making a break toward the exit.
I tried to keep my face neutral, but inside I felt lighter than ever, like we were busting out of detention.
“Bay?”
It was all it took from the unnamed person behind us for us to take off, dissolving into laughter and making our big break. Eat our dust!
23
Keyton
I hadn’t thought she’d say yes. I’d hoped—always—but never for a second did I think I’d be pulling down the wooden grate by the nylon strap and jamming my finger into the down button as a flood of people rushed toward us like I was a Viking who’d barged in and thrown her over my shoulder and stole her away to my village.
Holden had let me know where she’d be, almost like an invitation to get her out of there. Let’s hope it didn’t show up in the papers that I’d kidnapped Bay. It was by far the craziest thing I’d done in a few years. Exhilaration flooded my veins.
Bay held onto my shoulder, half tucked behind my body. Tonight she was as broad as I was. The poofiness of her dress—probably spanning at least six feet—wasn’t exactly stealthy.
“Bay, where are you going?” A chorus of people called out from above.
Our heads disappeared below the floor and their calls were muffled.
Her fingers gripped tight to the sleeve of my jacket and she bent over at the waist. Her shoulders shook.
Was she having second thoughts?
I turned and put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, we can—”
She peered up at me with tears of laughter in her eyes. Gasping, she clutched at the front of my shirt. “They’re going to be so pissed.” She brushed her tears away, smudging the makeup around her eyes.
The tension radiating through my body eased, replaced with a glowing ball of sunshine jammed straight into my chest.
The elevator hit the ground floor and I pulled up the grate, helping her step out.
She held onto me and bent, reaching under her dress and bracing one hand on my arm.
A pair of massive high heels emerged from under all the fabric, and she was no longer eye to eye with me, but half a foot shorter. She sighed and rolled her neck. From her sighs and groans, I could tell she was wiggling and flexing her toes.
Her gaze darted from me to the shoes. My disbelief at how she’d squeezed into those must’ve been written all over my face.
“I know, right? I keep asking why I need to wear them when no one will see them.”
I took the heels from her.
She smiled at me, the kind of smile I’d won from her when we’d first become more than two reluctant planetary bodies circling each other. It was teasing. Shy. Perfect.
The vise tightened on my heart and I lead her toward the door, looping her arm through mine.
In front of the industrial steel door, weathered to give it a true industrial look, she froze. Her fingers tightened again. She glanced down at herself and back at the door. With a slight tug, she froze and leaned back away from her escape route. “I can’t believe Holden left,” she muttered, almost to herself.
It was a dick move on his part, but he’d tagged me in to get her out of there. At least he’d been trying to look after her despite whatever was going on with him. He didn’t seem like someone who dropped the ball when it came to Bay.
Wasn’t Holden supposed to be the one looking out for her? Who kept her from getting as exhausted as she was now? There were deep shadows under her eyes even the makeup couldn’t erase.
“I have a car waiting outside.” Part of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder now, whisk her away from her painful shoes, her non-stop schedule, her birdcage life. Which would probably earn me a well-deserved door slamming in my face.