Chapter Nineteen

Not even a thirty-minute ride was long enough to figure out what would come next. She had no plan and no ideas, but every ounce of hope was clutched tight to her chest.

Zara got out of the car, too jacked-up to wait for Devon to make his way around to her door, and walked as fast as she could into the hotel. Everyone was in designer ball gowns and tuxedos, drinking champagne and ignoring the waiters with trays of canapés. Even in the heels that were pinching her toes with every step, she couldn’t get a good enough look at the crowd to find Caleb. She had to find higher ground.

She made it up to the mezzanine overlooking the ballroom. It would give her the perfect view. Rushing to the decorative stone railing, she peeked over the edge.

“Oh, my dear, are you hiding out or on an assassin mission?” Helene Carlyle asked as she sat in a chair set in a nearby alcove. She put her phone with its case decorated with famous paintings by Hughston in her purse. “Either way, I support it; these things are always dreadfully boring.”

Zara jumped up in the air and whirled around before catching her breath as she stared at the older woman in shock. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Helene Carlyle was supposed to be on her way to Italy.

“Neither,” Zara said as she turned away to scan the crowd again without any luck. “Just trying to find my prince.”

Helene chuckled. “I like how high you set your goals…almost as much as I like your work.”

That got Zara’s full attention, and she spun around, the glass crystals on her shoes scratching her toes. “I thought you weren’t coming to the ball.”

“I got all the way to the family jet, sat down, buckled the seat belt, and realized I couldn’t go,” Helene said. “If your actual pieces were as good as those sketches I saw, my nemesis Patricia would snap them up at the auction and lord it over me for the next decade. The woman is a horrid little nit. So I told the pilot we needed to delay the flight. It was worth it. No one is going to beat me at the silent auction. I sweet-talked…” She paused and took a sip of her wine. “Okay, fine, I scared the bejesus out of some of those hockey players to keep watch on the bidding sheets for me and to make a bid in my name if I wasn’t the top price.”

Before Zara had written her Bramble bio, she would have zeroed in on what Helene was saying about her work and what it meant for her career and block everything else out as she freaked out. That squealing fit of oh-my-God-yes would come, but not now, not when Helene had said the magic word.

“You said hockey players?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest. “Was one of them Caleb Stuckey?”

“I like that young man of yours, reminds me of my first husband—all drive and ambition with biceps that made my breath catch.” Helene looked over the railing and pointed toward a table near the band. “I stationed him there. If you pull him away from that bidding station, get a replacement. There is no way I’m going to let Patricia take home a dollhouse full of my favorite writers.”

A giddy jolt of adrenaline shot through her, and she gave Helene a grateful hug before heading back to the stairs leading to the ballroom. Weaving through the crowd like a lifelong Harbor City resident who knew from birth how to get around slow-walking tourists, she got to the dance floor when she felt the first snap of the thin crystal-covered strap across her toes giving way. Another three steps and it tore free, sending her stumbling forward right into the hard chest of the man she loved.

Caleb saved her from nose planting and swept her up into his arms. Looking at him, feeling his arms around her, everything settled into place inside her. This was it. This was right. She hadn’t been hoping for a Prince Charming to come into her life, but by some kind of luck, he’d done it anyway.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said as he set her back down on her feet.

They stood there, so close but not touching, and the rest of the world faded away until it was just them standing on the edge of a dance floor.

“My shoe broke,” she said. “Which really is just the topper of a total hell day—really a hell month—that all started because I filled out a form on a dating app after a couple of shots of tequila.”

His smile flattened. Her gut dropped.

“I understand,” he said, turning and walking away.

Oh yes, Zara, please open your mouth and ruin the moment.

“That didn’t come out right,” she said as she did the up-down clomping walk over to him because she only had on one shoe. “It’s hell because I keep fucking it up, not because it happened.”

Caleb stopped and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. Damn. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to wear tuxes. The combination of Caleb plus tuxedo was lethal. Her stomach twisted as she realized she might never see him like this again if she couldn’t find the right words to fix things.

“You were right.” She reached deep for the courage to keep going as she stood in front of him, one foot in a shoe and the other raised up on her toes. “I was scared. I’ve always been scared, so I retreated back into work, creating little worlds where I got to control everything. It was all going wonderfully until I met you, because you made me want more than my little worlds.” She took in a raggedy breath because everything rode on this next thing. “I’m hoping you’ll give me—give us—another chance. We still have one more Bramble date to go, so what do you say?”

The people swarmed around them on their way to the dance floor, oblivious to the drama playing out right in front of their noses. Meanwhile, Zara was seconds away from a heart attack as she waited for Caleb’s answer. Everything hung on this moment, everything.

After an eternity of looking at her, his gaze moving from the hem of her baby-blue gown to her face, he shook his head. “No.”

All the air in her lungs evaporated, leaving her chest empty and aching. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes as she clenched her teeth together to keep from crying. She wouldn’t do that here. She’d wait until she got into the Uber for that, just like someone who hadn’t been decimated by a two-letter word.

“Oh, okay…” she said, floundering for words. “I’ll just…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

She stumbled back a few steps—heel, flat foot, heel, flat foot—needing to get out of there before she broke down.

“Zara,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “When was the last time you checked your Bramble app?”

The question was such a non sequitur that it stopped her backward motion. “I was sad and mad and all of the things, so I got rid of it.”

“Download it.” He closed the space between them; what had taken her five bumbling steps took him two. “Right now.”

Hesitating, Zara tried to make sense of the request. They were past the Bramble app, weren’t they? He’d said no. He didn’t want to go on a fifth date. This thing between them, it was done.

“Zara.” Caleb reached out and took her broken shoe from her grasp. “Trust me.”

And despite what had just happened and the upheaval making her jittery, she did. So she took her phone out of her purse and tried not to freak out when she saw the red battery alert and the low signal bars. She swiped open the App Store and tapped download again on the Bramble app, not knowing what would happen next but sending up a prayer that it wouldn’t break her.

…

Caleb was not a patient man, but even if he had been, this whole thing was taking too long. His palms were getting itchy watching her mess with her phone, but he wasn’t going to use his phone and show her what he’d done, not after what had happened with Helene Carlyle. This wasn’t his play to make. She had to be in charge.

Zara held up her hand, one finger raised. “Almost there.”

Thank God. He started to let out the breath he was holding.

“Yes.” She did an off-balance shimmy dance while the people around them pretending to be oblivious to what was going on pretended not to watch. “Now I just have to log in.”

He wanted a time machine just so he could go back and smack himself in the head before he came up with such a dumb-ass plan.

“Shit,” she mumbled. “Wrong password.” She looked up at him, her expression tight. “Let me try again. I’m sure I just typed it incorrectly.” Her fingers shook as she tried it again. When she got denied again, she handed her phone over to him, panic and worry coming off her in waves. “It’s Anchovy. You try it.”

“Your password is your dog’s name?” He shook his head. One of his sisters was a cyber security consultant. She’d have a field day if she knew.

“I know it’s dumb, but it’s not like my Bramble account is tied to anything important.” Zara smacked her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, that’s not what I meant.”

He froze for a second, translating what she’d said into what she’d meant. Yeah, it was a good thing his brain was wired so he was used to having to translate garbage signals. The next few decades were going to be pretty interesting.

“I know.” He typed in her password, brought up the video on the app’s home screen, and handed her phone back to her. “Press play. I had to make this to explain why I couldn’t complete the five dates I was obligated to go on and why I never would. It’ll only be on your home screen unless you okay it going wide. I mean every word of this, but I didn’t want to pressure you in any way by doing a huge public grand gesture. This is your call.”

Even though she’d already given him her answer, having to sit back so she could see him ask the question was nerve-racking. The same jittery sizzles that snapped in the air around him before a game had him on alert to every flicker of emotion that crossed Zara’s face. And when she hit play, he sent up a quick prayer that what she was about to watch wouldn’t ruin everything.

“Hi, everyone, Caleb Stuckey here, and I’m going to tell you why I’m quitting this app and why some of you should not use Bramble—especially not if you’re a professional hockey player just trying to get the world to stop seeing you as a complete bag of dicks,” video him said. “Let me tell you my story so you understand why.”

She let out a little gasp and plopped down in a nearby chair, her face twisting up, but she kept watching. He crossed his fingers that that was a good sign.

“First off, my mom—yes, my mom—picked out my date because Bramble has this whole parental-guidance angle to it.” He ignored that asshole in his head telling him his voice sounded weird when he heard it played back and concentrated on watching Zara. “That was bad because who wants their mom picking their hookups? No one. I didn’t have a choice, though, so I went along with it. My date was this pocket-size redhead who didn’t want to be there any more than I did.”

The first hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and some of the tension in his body began to ebb.

“We came to a meeting of the minds and developed some rules to get through the whole process with as little pain as possible,” video him said. “One of the rules was no going past date five because this was an arrangement, not a relationship.”

A deep pink bloomed on her cheeks at the mention of the rules. Then she looked down at her fancy gown, which she looked amazing in, but she looked damn good in everything, including the jeans and T-shirts she normally wore. He tugged at the collar of his tux. Damn. They were not very good at following their own rules.

Video him wasn’t done, though. “Everything seemed like it was going well, but something awful happened. I’ve dealt with overeager dates, angry fans, and a mom who thinks she knows everything, but I’ve never met anyone like Zara Ambrose. She’s tough, talented, smart, funny, and her dog is a force of nature. All good, right? Well, I fell in love with her, hard, and I didn’t even realize it at first. Who knew that finding the one person you were meant for kind of felt like the stomach flu and like you needed to smack your head against a wall repeatedly? For the uninitiated out there, I don’t recommend falling in love unless you’re made of stern stuff. You will end up in the penalty box—in my case literally and repeatedly—but it’s worth it.”

She looked up at him then, her full bottom lip starting to tremble, and she reached for him. He didn’t have to be told twice. Taking her hand in his, he sat down next to her, not realizing until then that half of his teammates were gathered around the table where he and Zara were sitting. Each of the guys was watching the phone screen. Caleb sat for a second, waiting to be hit with that awful gut twist of panic from being the center of attention when he was off the ice.

It never came. It never seemed to when he was with Zara.

“All I wanted to do was fix my fuckup, get back on the ice, and keep my team together,” video him said. “Then I fell in love and realized that I wanted so much more. Zara, we agreed to five dates, and then we were done. I’m here promising that I will never ever go on that fifth date with you, because I don’t want what we have to end, and I hope you don’t, either. I love you, Zara Ambrose. Now please tell me that you’ll be my girlfriend so we’ll never have to go out on another Bramble date again?”

The video ended, and he sat there, silent, holding his breath and waiting to see what she’d say. He didn’t have to wait long.

“I love you, too, Caleb Stuckey, and I’d be more than happy to never ever go on another Bramble date with you in my entire life. There’s no reason to, I already found the person I didn’t know I’d been looking for.”

There may have been cheering at that point, but he didn’t hear it. The only person who mattered in that moment was Zara, and as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss, he realized that that was how it should be. Together, they fit. They worked. That was love.