Hell on Heels(30)

I wanted more, but his little touches made me feel important, so I took them, beating back the disappointment that he had yet to kiss me.

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.” I took them from his hands and kicked the door open a bit more to make room. “Do you want to come in? I’ll just put these in some water before we go.”

He gestured for me to lead the way and shut the door behind him. “Are they renovating your building?” he asked, as I chose a Mason jar vase from underneath the sink.

“No.” I winced, grabbing scissors from the knife block. “A pipe burst on the floor above me last week. The damage up there is pretty bad.”

Leaning a hip against the counter, he watched while I cut the stems one at a time, placing them in the vase. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too.” I looked at him and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Will you be put out of your place?” He looked around my apartment as he spoke. I gathered he was searching for gaping holes in the ceiling, like he’d no doubt seen on his way up.

I added water to the vase, rearranging the flowers while I spoke. “Thankfully, no. Just a small section of insulation will need to be replaced over the sofa.”

He nodded. “When will that happen?”

His tone was less curious and more matter-of-fact in the way business minded people often were. They had a ‘get it done’ mentality.

I was often that way too, though only with work. In my personal life, I could procrastinate with the best of them.

“They should begin repairs end of this week,” I told him.

He seemed pleased with my answer, and we made small talk about my apartment and his campaign while I finished, eventually setting the flowers on the breakfast bar and standing back to admire them. “They really are lovely, Beau,” I said.

Wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, he rested his chin on my shoulder. “So are you.”

I enjoyed his embrace, feeling the comfort spread through my system. “I guess we better go.” When I spoke, it was out of obligation, not because I didn’t enjoy standing in his arms in the middle of my kitchen.

“Mm. We’ll likely be late as is,” he said, and lifted his head, stepping back. “It was worth every second.”

Emotion raided me, so I simply went about shutting off the lights.

He waited for me to lock up before holding out his elbow to me. “Shall we?”

I slid my arm into his waiting one and smiled. “I’d like that.”

Beau was the perfect gentleman. In fact, in my experience, many great men were. The difference was he did it in a way that felt honest and as if it was deeply ingrained into his sense of self. He was the type of man who would lay his jacket down over a puddle so a woman’s feet wouldn’t get wet in her heels.

He was the end of an era of good ole boys.

Maybe even the last.

I leaned into his side as we descended in the elevator, and listened as he hummed to a tune I recognized but couldn’t put my finger on exactly. He waited for me to step out first from the elevator, and then the front door, before he led me to a black town car.

“Sir.” The driver nodded at Beau. “Miss Smith.”

“Hello,” I greeted him, before turning to my date. “Will you tell me where we’re going?” I asked as he opened my door.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, no. You’ll just have to wait.”

“What if I told you I hated surprises?” I settled into my seat, looking up at him.

Leaning into the open car door, he grinned. “I’d tell you that was too bad for you.”

I laughed.

He closed my door, and that’s when I decided perhaps I was a bit smitten with him.

He took the seat next to mine and casually held my hand as he spoke. “Tell me about this event in which I am solely responsible for turning your staff into… What was it you said?” He smiled, searching his memory, and I immediately thought it was cute.

“Monsters,” I finished for him.

“Ah, yes. Tell me.”

We drove for a short period of time through the city lights, and I told him about our plans for VanDusen and what his money would allow us to do where the charity was concerned. He seemed to delight in the way I spoke, accepting and encouraging each new sentence I brought to the conversation, and he never tired of asking me what I thought.

“What made you want to run for mayor?” It was likely a question he’d been asked many times before, but I genuinely didn’t know and was very curious.

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, he turned somewhat to face me. “I was born privileged.” This, I did know, but waited for him to continue. “I don’t wear that as a burden, like some people I grew up with chose to, but instead I thought of it like a blessing. How many other people could say they were born into a family with the resources to make a difference at their fingertips?”

“Not many,” I imagined, but also said out loud.

“There’s really no profound reason why I do what I do, other than I wanted to use my wealth and privilege to make a difference.” My hand reached out to trace his jawline while he spoke. “That’s the only way I could justify the life I was blessed with, was if it meant something more than just fancy schools and big parties.” He chuckled. “Though, I still have those too.”