Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(33)

Two fingers landed under her chin and he tilted her head up gently. His green eyes were fierce, but still somehow tender.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered, his eyebrows furrowing with uncertainty. “I know your career is important to you, and I respect that. So much. But if you stay here, I get to see you more, and now that I know what that feels like, I don’t want to give it up. I-I just want you in my life. As much as possible. Please say you’ll stay.”

Overcome with emotion, she whimpered, slipping off the bar stool and flinging her arms around his neck. As she pressed her body against his, he wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tightly. A moment later, his palms landed on her cheeks and he tilted her head back so that his lips could fall flush onto hers.

She didn’t say yes.

She showed him yes instead.

***

Preston felt like he was on top of the world. Although he still wasn’t sleeping with her, or even sleeping beside her, his girlfriend was moving in with him at least for a little while, and knowing that she wouldn’t surprise him with a sudden “I found a new place and I’m moving out” announcement lifted an enormous weight from his chest. He had made peace with moving slow, but if she moved out, it would change the pace of their relationship from slow to molasses, and he didn’t know if he could stand that big a step backward. He didn’t want to get in the way of her ambition, but he wanted them to keep growing—for their relationship to deepen and blossom—and they needed to spend time together for that to happen.

As Preston walked to work his phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, smiling instantly to see that his older brother, Brooks, was calling.

“Brooks!”

“Pres!”

“Hey, man! This is a surprise. What time is it there? Afternoon?”

“Nope,” said Brooks. “It’s about seven a.m.”

“What?” Preston stopped walking for a second. “But it’s seven here…”

“That’s right. I’m in New York, little brother. Just for two days.”

“Hey! That’s great! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I didn’t know until a couple of days ago,” said Brooks. “PBS asked me to record a voice-over for a documentary about sailing, but they somehow managed to get a few other guys from the Olympic Team together and asked if they could interview us together in New York. So…”

“So you’re here! You need a place to stay?”

He had to ask, even though the timing wasn’t perfect. Aside from his short conversation with Christopher several weeks ago, he hadn’t talked about Elise with any of his brothers. Until they were a solid thing, he didn’t want to introduce her to them. Not because he was trying to hide her, but because if things didn’t work out for some reason, he wouldn’t want for his brothers to ask about her or have memories of her. It would be bad enough for Preston to have his own memories.

“Nope. They’re putting me up at the Waldorf. But I do have time for dinner tonight.”

Tonight. Opening Night.

“I can do dinner,” he said, “but I have plans at eight. Can’t get out of them.”

“No problem,” said Brooks. “Six-thirty? You choose the place and text me the details. I have to go through Customs now. See you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Preston. “Looking forward to it!”

Eleven hours later, Preston looked up from his seat at Bistro Chèvrefeuille to see Brooks walk in. Per usual, every set of female eyes in the small café looked up to admire his ex-Olympian brother, but Brooks waved at Preston, all but oblivious to the attention.

“Hey!” said Brooks, enveloping Preston in a big bear hug and slapping him enthusiastically on the back. “You look good, bro!”

“Yeah? You too! Damn, you’re tan!”

“The South African sun,” said Brooks, taking the seat across from his brother and ordering a gin and tonic from the waiter. “So, what’s up? How’s the internship? You ready for the bar?”

As the oldest of the Winslow siblings, Brooks had taken on the role of head-of-family at a very early age, and all four of his younger siblings still looked to Brooks for support and advice in varying degrees. For Jessica and Chris, Brooks was almost a surrogate father. For Preston? His very best friend in the world.

“Internship is good. They haven’t made me an offer yet, but I think I’m a lock for a full-time job if I pass the bar.” He took a sip of his drink. “And yeah, I’ll definitely be ready. I got a little distracted for a while there, but I’ve got plenty of time to be sure I nail it.”

“Distracted?” asked Brooks, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was truly annoying. “What’s her name?”

Preston sighed, bristling at his brother’s lascivious tone. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like what? This chick doesn’t have you wrapped around her”—he cleared his throat for effect—“little finger?”

“I mean it,” said Preston, raising his eyes to Brooks and warning him with a narrow-eyed stare. “We’re not talking about her like that.”

Brooks sat back, his eyes wide with amazement. “You’re not—Jesus, Pres, you’re not in love with her, are you?”