There must be a Betty White club Nana belongs to. If she doesn’t lose her mind first, I’m certain she will die with her last comment being completely snarky.
“I’m screwed.” I sigh.
“Maybe they’ll let you watch.”
“Nana!”
Chapter Ten
Wyatt Jasper will be picking me up in ten minutes. If he shows up wearing a cowboy hat and a Stetson belt buckle I’m going to murder Nana. I know nothing about him, not even if he’s been hired or has willingly volunteered for the role of Darby’s date in tonight’s double date saga.
My hair is another Gemmie masterpiece, but my makeup is DIY. I spent almost thirty minutes arguing with Trick about it. Grady has him doing makeup for three of the celebrities that will be attending tonight. I know he’s a perfectionist who doesn’t like to be hurried so I refused to add to his stress today.
I dig a Rachel Hart original out of the back of my closet. It’s a strapless olive—green—cocktail dress with iridescent beading along the bodice. Oh … and it’s ridiculously short. Before heading downstairs, I wrap a thin black scarf around my neck, slide into my black strappy heels, and take one last glance in the mirror. My volume-enhanced tresses fall in red waves, bangs pinned off to one side, and my makeup is minimal. Trick would be more critical if I tried to be too adventurous with it.
I grab my clutch and silver wrap just as my door buzzes. “Coming!” I yell into the intercom.
Tucking my clutch under my arm, I open the door. Gulp! I hold up one finger and smile then go back inside and shut the door. Leaning against it, I dig out my phone and call Nana.
“Hello?”
“What the hell, Nana!” I say in a yelling whisper.
“You like?” she asks with a rolling purr to her voice.
“Where did you find him?”
“My friend Mary; her daughter, Nora, owns a modeling agency. Wyatt is new and Nora thought attending a high-class party like yours would be a good way for him to make some connections. And you needed a date so I thought he was a better choice than an escort. It would be awkward if someone at the party recognized your date as an escort. You know, like showing up in the same dress some other broad’s wearing.”
“How old is he?”
“Hmm … can’t say for sure, but young. Maybe keep his drinks virgin tonight just to play it on the safe side.”
“Ugh! Bye, Nana!”
Slipping my phone in my clutch, I rest my head back against the door and roll it slowly side to side. Unbelievable. My dress is definitely too short for my date that’s probably too young, and I’m off to meet my dream guy’s gay lover for the first time. The only thing that might save me tonight is the hospital. They needed an extra person on call and I volunteered. I think my subconscious is looking out for me.
“Hey, sorry about that.” I smile, opening the door. “I needed to make a quick phone call. My apologies for keeping you waiting. I’m Darby, by the way.” I hold out my hand.
“Wyatt.” He takes my hand and kisses it. Smooth.
There’s probably a million words to describe the flawless figure in front of me wearing black pants with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top and a tailored black jacket, but the first thing that comes to mind is a young Ashton Kutcher look-alike. And I would know because when I was thirteen I had posters of him on my wall, most covered in lipstick marks.
“Nice to meet you. Thanks for escorting me tonight.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to clarify that this is a mutual arrangement and not a date, but it might have something to do with his age.
He leads me to the town car, undoubtedly arranged by Nana, and the driver opens my door. The party is at an exclusive whisky bar only a ten minute drive away, not long enough to go over everything.
“I’m not sure what you’ve been told about tonight but—”
He unbuttons his jacket that hangs perfectly from his broad shoulders. “I know everything about you, probably more than I should…” he grins and I blush “…and my story is yours to tell, so what’s it going to be.”
Damn! He’s good.
I fiddle with the fringe of my wrap. “Well, I think we should keep it as close to the truth as possible. I suck at lying, and if you plan on making connections tonight I don’t think a made-up job like an intern at the hospital where I work is a good idea. So … you’re a model and we recently met through mutual friends. Saying your boss’s mom and my Nana fixed us up sounds cheesy.”
Wyatt grins. “A little.”
The car stops and before Wyatt gets out I grab his arm. “By the way, how old are you?”