24. Simon

CHAPTER 24

Simon

“This isn’t an issue,” I say with false confidence as I glance around Elise’s bedroom. “So where do we start to look? What is a likely place?”

Elise is running around the room in a full-blown panic, tossing pillows and dresses and jeans in all directions as she desperately searches for her driver’s license, which she needs to show at the pinup competition this afternoon. I start on her makeup table, shifting items around, looking for the ID card.

“I don’t know! I don’t even drive so I don’t keep it in my wallet. I just always grab it when I’m going to a bar or somewhere they might card me.” Elise has her hair in rollers with a cap over it and she’s in her bra and panties.

If she wasn’t so distraught, I would enjoy the view, but I feel terrible that she’s so stressed out.

“Why do I even have a driver’s license if I don’t drive?” she asks rhetorically. “I should just get a state ID. Maybe I’ll do that next week. I have Thursday off. I wonder what Blake’s schedule is like that day? If he’s out of town, I’m definitely free all day because you’ll be at work and Aidan always works Thursdays.”

She’s already lost focus.

I notice she does that when she’s under pressure. Whatever is the main issue that is causing her stress gets mentally shoved to the side and replaced with something she has a solution for. While she’s contemplating next week and a fictional trip to the DMV, she has stopped looking for her license and is rechecking her roller suitcase, which is stacked on top of her bed and filled with carefully folded and packed items for the competition.

The suitcase was packed last night. I lounged on the sofa and listened to a finance podcast while she worked on it. I didn’t go into the bedroom because I knew talking would distract her, so I left her to it.

Everything clothing and makeup wise she has ready to go because those are important to her.

Details like the location of the competition and her license were left until right now, as we’re supposed to be walking out the door to drive to Milwaukee.

That was her answer when I asked for the location of the competition. Milwaukee.

“Where specifically?” I asked her five minutes earlier.

That had sent her fruitlessly searching through her email for the vital information.

Which somehow had jogged her memory that she needed her license and now here we are.

“What is the name of the competition?” I ask her as I open the drawers on her vanity. More makeup.

“It’s the Milwaukee Pin Up Contest. That’s the actual name.”

Easy enough. I text my assistant.

Find me the venue and address for the Milwaukee Pin Up Contest happening today. Book hotel nearby and have light refreshments sent to the front desk of the venue under my name. Water, protein bars, etc. Check contest rules and send me highlights. High urgency.

Elise has already indicated we need to stop for snacks en route, but we’re already thirty minutes behind schedule. The competition starts at six and it’s already two. At least I put her prop box in the car last night. I have no idea what was in there, but she told me it was for the performance portion of the pageant.

“Do you think I can just tell them I lost my license?” she asks, remembering what she’s supposed to be doing as she zips her suitcase shut.

I’ll give them a thousand dollars if I have to. But I have one more quick thought. “Do you have a passport? I’m sure you can use that instead.”

Her eyes light up. She’s in full makeup already, just planning on dressing and touching up her hair at the venue.

“I do,” she says. “My mom took me on a cruise to Mexico for my twenty-second birthday. Have you ever been to Mexico? It was really beautiful. I went through two entire tubes of sunscreen though because I burn so easily.”

There it is again. The wander.

I redirect. “Do you know where the passport is?” I ignore her other comments.

This is the first time I’ll have spent two nights in a row with Elise and I want her to enjoy herself, not be fretting about getting there on time.

“Yes! I think.” She dashes over to her closet, which affords me a fantastic view of her breasts threatening to spill out of her bra from the movement.

Bloody hell. I can’t allow myself to be distracted either.

“I have a box with important documents. It’s in there because I haven’t used it in years. I think. I mean, why would I move it?”

That is an excellent question, but I don’t rule the possibility out.

Now her ass is sky high in her black panties as she bends over and rustles around in the closet. “It’s in here! And oh. So is my driver’s license. That was smart of me.”

I grin before I quickly school my features.

God, this woman is delectable.

“Brilliant, love. Then we’re all set.”

My phone dings. It’s a series of attachments from my assistant with all the necessary information.

“I have the address for the venue.”

“I guess I should get dressed.”

“As much as I love you out of clothes, yes, that’s a great idea.” I take her suitcase off of the bed and drop it on the floor, pulling the handle up.

It seems wise to remove it from her view or she’ll unzip it and start going through her clothes again to ensure she hasn’t forgotten anything. I know she hasn’t because she was completely confident the night before. After a month of dating Elise, I feel like I know her really well.

She still wavers sometimes between apologizing for her disorganization and shrugging it off as who she is. I’ve never had an issue with it. None of us are perfect, or even someone else’s perceived version of perfection. Relationships are about meeting the other person where they are, and I hope that I’ve done that for Elise. She has done that for me. She never presses me about the fact that I have to go back to London or what that means.

What it means in my mind is simply that there will be periods of time where I don’t get to see her or Aidan in person but that I can hop on a plane and return to Chicago for work or just because I want to.

By then, Blake will be living in the woods in his cherished cabin.

Which is a shame, really. Hell, I know that’s what he wants, but the four of us work well together in my not-so-humble opinion.

With varying schedules and busy careers, we don’t get to spend as much time together as a foursome as I think Elise would like, but it also means that whenever she wants company, she has some, even if it can’t be all of us.

I take the suitcase into the living room and set it by the front door. I rummage through her kitchen, grabbing a couple packets of the trail mix I know she likes, and filling her jumbo water bottle up with fresh water from the refrigerator. I snag her a bottled iced coffee as well and put them all into a grocery bag.

Then I pop my head back into the bedroom. Elise is dressed in tight stretchy jeans, high heel boots and an ice blue fuzzy sweater that shows off the shape of her breasts perfectly.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her truthfully.

She laughs. “I have a hair net on.”

“So? It’s not covering your face. I can’t wait to see you up on stage.”

“Thanks, Simon.” She takes a deep breath and adds, “I wish Aidan and Blake could be here.”

“I know, love. Next time they can coordinate schedules better.” Blake is out of town playing hockey and Aidan is on a twenty-four-hour shift.

She purses her lips, but then she nods.

“Okay, exit check,” I tell her. “Phone?”

She raises it up to show me. “Check.”

“Put it in your purse.” If she doesn’t, she’s liable to set it down on a table on the way out as she picks something else up.

“In the purse. Check.” She obeys.

This is a routine I’ve started with her and realized it actually helps me a lot, too. I’m just as likely to forget my phone as Elise without my assistant Sonia around.

“Phone, Simon?”

I hold my own up and show her I’m inserting in the breast pocket of my overcoat. “In the coat.”

“Keys?”

She grabs them off the kitchen counter. “Keys. Car keys?”

I lift them up and show her. “License?”

She digs in her jeans pocket and waves the little plastic card at me. “Wallet?”

I pat my pocket. “Wallet. I think we’re good to go. I grabbed some water too.” I hold her coat out for her and she slips into it.

She turns her head for a kiss and I happily oblige.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m excited to see you kick ass.”

Elise laughs. “Graciousness is part of the judging. I love meeting the other contestants.”

I grab the grocery bag and her suitcase handle and we head out.

Elise astonishes me. Not only is she hands down the most gorgeous woman in the competition, she’s a natural on stage. She walks with confidence in her heels, white stockings with snowflakes on them and a vintage white winter swing coat. She has her hands tucked into the muff, but pulls one out to blow a kiss to the audience.

It’s obviously meant for the judges, but she does lock eyes with me as she does it and my heart damn near stops.

Clearing my throat, I shift in my chair. My dick is getting hard.

I glance over at the man sitting next to me and he is eyeing Elise with naked interest.

“Damn,” he says. “That is one hot woman.”

“Mine,” I say.

“Mine what?” the guy asks, looking at me briefly in confusion before returning his attention to Elise, who is descending the steps off the stage.

“My woman.”

I don’t think I’ve ever said that in such a possessive way in my entire life, but fuck all, Elise is mine. This man can find his own pinup model.

“Ah. Lucky you.” He grins.

I nod, satisfied he’s got the message.

This was just the brief introduction to all the candidates, but Miss Sugar Starling is a clear hit. She gets a loud round of applause.

The next round is a question-and-answer segment and Elise sounds charming and eloquent as she discusses her hobbies, which include fashion design, baking, and swing dancing, which I did not know. Now I instantly have a fantasy that involves taking her dancing.

Not that I can dance.

But I will learn if that’s what she’s interested in.

There’s another round of competition that I assume is some kind of talent portion, but it’s more like performance art. Elise does a routine to music that involves shedding layers, starting with her coat, revealing a peacock blue velvet swing dress as if she’s going to a cocktail party. One of her props is a martini glass, which she mimics sipping from and then poses.

Then, to my utter shock and delight, she manages to drop the dress in one casual maneuver and is in a sexy silk ice blue nightgown and tying her hair up with a ribbon. It’s not revealing, other than her glorious cleavage. It’s just a promise of good things to come, for the man lucky enough to be her partner.

I heartily agree with the man next to me.

Lucky me.

The whole routine is meant to simulate a night out for a woman in winter in the fifties and not only is her body displayed to perfection, so are her fashions. Her expressions are adorable and sweetly sexy. I’m blown away by how creative she is and so clearly in her element. Her focus is spot on and she’s clearly enjoying herself.

When she takes second place, I’m both proud of her and convinced the judges got it wrong. All the women gave it their all, but she is the clear winner.

Finally, after a round of photos of the contestants and the top prize winners, Elise is free to come down and meet me. I give her a big hug and tell her, “You were incredible. I’m astonished by your poise. I would have froze up there with all those eyes on me.”

She laughs and gives me a look, throwing her arms around me. “Oh, bullshit. You can charm a snake, Simon.”

Then she kisses me softly and tenderly wipes off the lipstick she’s transferred to my mouth. “Thank you for the standing ovation.”

“You deserved it.”

“At least you didn’t catcall me. That would have been embarrassing.”

“That’s more of a Wilder move,” I say.

She gives a shrug. “I don’t think that will ever happen. We’re meeting with his grandmother soon and then that’s that.”

I can’t tell how she feels about losing Blake in her life, but I’m British and we don’t pry. If she wanted to tell me, she would.

“Care for a cocktail?”

“Yes, I just need to say goodbye to all the other girls.”

I watch her dash off and give hugs and big smiles and hold out her phone to exchange numbers and probably her design business information. I’m content to just soak in her pure joy.

When she returns, I murmur to her, “I need to serve you a martini while you’re wearing that nightgown. Just so I can see it drop to the floor.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

We can’t get out of that venue and to the hotel fast enough.