Parental Guidance (Ice Knights #1)(66)

“Close your eyes and stretch your eyebrows up to the ceiling,” Jayse from the fifth floor told her before applying winged eyeliner to her. “There, finished.”

Zara opened her eyes. Her little apartment was filled with people. Mrs. Spatz had come over with three of her granddaughter’s old prom dresses to pick from. Amelia from the Donut Emporium had brought over a dozen of her most popular, sprinkle-covered sugar and carb bombs. Devon had his limo out on the street, waiting to take her to the ball.

Anchovy was in heaven. She was amazed, flabbergasted, and thankful.

“Dad, I can’t believe you made this happen with just a few calls,” she said, giving him a hug. “I never would have dreamed it was possible.”

“Now you know better.” He twirled her around just like he had when she was a kid and they’d dance in the kitchen after the dishes were done. “It doesn’t always work out, but when it does, it’s so very worth it.”

Tears were threatening to ruin Jayse’s hard work when Gemma burst out of Zara’s bedroom.

“I found the perfect pair,” she said, holding up a pair of knock-off heels covered in glass crystals that made them sparkle in the light. “Hurry up and put them on. You’re already late.”

Zara did as she was told, gave everyone thank-you hugs, and hustled out her door. She had no idea what she was going to say or how Caleb would respond, but she had a whole ride across town to figure it out. Fingers crossed, she hurried down the stairs and outside.





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.