7. Daphne

7

DAPHNE

As we moved through the throng of attendees filing into the banquet hall, Miss Shaw whispered emphatically, "Can you believe they're gonna be parading men out here like slabs of meat? It's that new mayor's bright idea for raising money. I don't see why we can't just have a respectable dinner."

"Oh, don't be such a fuddy duddy, Caroline." Aunt Rhonda waved her friend away dismissively.

As the two women chatted, aka gossiped, I did a cursory scan over the sea of men and women in ball gowns, black ties, and masquerade masks. My aunt had mentioned that the entire town was coming, and I had to admit, it looked like she was right. There were hundreds of people there, and they were all dressed to the nines. I made a mental note to send Nadia flowers, or maybe an edible arrangement, as a thank you for the emergency dress loan. I would not have been able to pull off jeans or sweats and heels.

"These are our seats," Aunt Rhonda motioned to a couple of chairs at a large round table in the center of the room.

As I lowered down onto my seat, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that my little eye hadn't spied hottie with the body, Harlan Mitchell. The man had taken up residency in my brain, and, regardless of what Alexandra said, I was only going to be here for less than twenty-four more hours. Time was ticking. Seconds were slipping by.

As I looked around, I had to admit there was an electric energy in the air. Maybe it was because everyone was dressed up and wearing masks. I wasn't sure. Thankfully, it didn't have an Eyes Wide Shut vibe. It was more like the Hilary Duff Cinderella Story scene.Although, if I did manage to find Harlan, I wouldn't mind a little Eyes Wide Shut action.

Typically, attraction was something that grew with me. At least the sort of attraction I wanted to act on. The couple of one-night stands I'd had were lackluster and disappointing, to say the least. Never before in my life had I met someone and wanted to rip their clothes off. Until I stood on Harlan's porch, that is. I'd had all sorts of X-rated urges that I was still fantasizing about six hours later.

More people filtered through the grand double doors, and soon the lights dimmed, and servers appeared with dishes. All through dinner, I continued covertly searching the room for my shirtless, low-riding gray sweatpants, kitty cuddler. I would have thought that at his height he would be easy to pick out, but they grew 'em big in the country. This room was filled with extremely attractive—at least if you were going by jawlines since I couldn't see anyone's face—extremely large, well-built men.

Beside me, Miss Shaw and Aunt Rhonda were speaking in low tones, gossiping about everyone in attendance. Since I had no clue who any of the people they were discussing were, I lost interest and tried to keep myself occupied by mentally guessing people's ages behind their masks. That was only entertaining for a few minutes, since I had no way of verifying if I'd come close or not.

By the time the entrée was served, I was starting to nod off and needed a boost of energy. I'd sworn off drinking since I was still nursing a hangover from my trauma flight, but halfway through the meal, I decided a little champagne wouldn't hurt. I was two glasses down when my bladder reminded me of another reason I didn't like to drink. Alcohol passed right through me. I'd spent almost as much time in the airplane bathroom the night before as I had in my seat.

When the mayor took the stage, I leaned over to let my aunt know I was going to the restroom. He welcomed us all there and began the tribute to Grammy Moore. Three people she'd worked with during her time at city hall spoke on her behalf. I'd love to say that their speeches were beautiful, but I was doing everything I could not to pee my pants, so I was a little distracted. There was a slideshow, and then Mayor Baldwin called my aunt and me up to the stage.

The entire room erupted in a round of applause, and I forced myself to smile as I did the adult version of the pee-pee dance, which was basically pressing my thighs together tightly as Aunt Rhonda and I weaved our way through the tables.

After miraculously making it up onto the stage, I stood with one foot over the other, crossing my legs as Mayor Baldwin, who really liked to hear herself speak, waxed poetic about Grammy Moore's contributions to the town and how much she meant to Firefly Island. Finally, we were handed the award, and we made our way back to our seats as the crowd cheered for Grammy Moore once again.

"I have to pee," I whispered to Aunt Rhonda as she sat down.

I didn't wait for a response before rushing out of the ballroom.

"Bathroom?!" I asked the first person I saw, desperation dripping from my voice.

The masked woman with a headset pointed. "Down the hall."

My feet couldn't carry me fast enough as I rushed down the corridor on my quest for sweet relief. When I reached the end of the hall, I saw there were two doors, one to the left and one to the right. The first one I tried opened to what looked to be a library, but door number two was a winner. I rushed inside, slammed the door, frantically tugged my dress up, and then experienced sweet relief.

Feeling like a brand-new person, I stood and washed my hands. After freshening up my bold red lipstick and running a brush through my hair, I was ready to head back out and see if I could find the illusive Harlan Mitchell.

If not, I thought, maybe I'll stop by his Farm Strong class tomorrow morning before I leave for the airport .

The backup plan had barely formed in my head when I opened the door, tripped over my dress, and fell into very strong arms. Large hands reached out and steadied me, resting on my hips; my hands automatically gripped what turned out to be very chiseled biceps.

"Sorry." I apologized as I lifted my gaze.

That's when my stare locked with a pair of coffee-colored eyes surrounded by a black mask, and I instantly recognized them. These were the big brown eyes that I'd been searching for all night. The very large hands that held me tightly were not those of a stranger. The square jaw peppered with scruff was one I'd drooled over mere hours before.

"Hi." My greeting came out in a breathy whisper.

Harlan's thumbs dug into my hips, and a sudden shock of bliss exploded low in my belly.

"I was looking for you," he gritted out. His voice sounded deeper, rougher than it had earlier in the day.

"You were?" I managed to squeak out.

He nodded, and a small grin lifted on his perfect mouth.

"I've been looking for you, too." I wasn't sure why I was admitting that. I'd promised myself that part of my new, non-people-pleasing persona would be playing it cool and keeping my cards close to my chest. But I only had eighteen hours left in town. I didn't have time for coy.

His gaze slid down, past my lips to my chest, and I realized that our bodies were still pressed against one another. "You look so beautiful," he rasped.

"So do you. I mean, handsome, you look so handsome."

He did. He looked like he could have been plucked from the pages of GQ, but I think I preferred him in sweatpants. Nude Harlan was a very close second to gray sweatpants Harlan. GQ was actually my third choice if I was ranking them, which apparently I was.

"Mitchell, let's go!" A man called out from down the hall. "We're up!"

Harlan stayed perfectly still, not taking his eyes off of me. "Give me a minute, Dawson."

"We don't have a minute! Let's go, man!"

"Harlan Mitchell!" A woman's voice came next. "What do you think you're doing?"

I turned my head and saw the woman who'd given me directions to the bathroom with an iPad in her hand, giving me a death gaze. Seriously, if looks could kill, I'd be pushing up daisies.

"You have sixty seconds to get your rear on that stage, or else!" With that vague threat, the woman turned and rushed off.

When I looked back up at Harlan, he didn't appear in any hurry. There were no signs that he had an internal clock running in his brain, counting down the seconds; fifty-five, fifty-four, fifty-three. As much as I was thoroughly enjoying his undivided attention, I was an avid rule-follower and producer of a television show. Knowing that he was supposed to be somewhere triggered my anxiety, and I did have that internal clock running. When it hit twenty seconds, I smiled nervously. "Um, I think you need to go."

"I don't want to let you go."

I'd had a man write me poetry; I'd had men declare their undying love for me; I'd even had two proposals, but a man I barely knew, ignoring people who clearly needed him to do something and telling me he didn't want to let me go, was hands down the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me.

"Just kiss her dude, and let's go!" Dawson called out.

Harlan's only response to his friend's suggestion was his strong, square jaw tensing as he exhaled a low moan. The sight of him so…affected me it turned my insides to mush. Ooey, gooey mush.

I smiled up at him. "I think you better kiss me so you can go."

A wolfish smile spread on his face before he lowered his head, and his lips touched mine. It wasn't a long kiss or a particularly passionate one, but it was…perfect. I melted into his embrace as our mouths fused together. It was the most intimate, innocent kiss I'd ever experienced. The rest of the world disappeared, and it was just him and me—just this moment where our lips touched in a haze of sweet sensuality.

"Damn," Dawson said before letting out a low whistle.

Harlan broke our perfect kiss and rested his forehead against mine. His heated breath fanned my face, and I was glad his hands were on my hips because my legs were wobblier than Bambi's legs on ice.

"Harlan Mitchell!" iPad woman was back.

I stepped out of his embrace, and he dropped his arms.

"I'll see you when I'm done. Don't leave."

"I won't," I promised him.

I knew in my head that he was just talking about tonight; he didn't want me to leave the event, but my heart was making longer-term plans.

No , I reprimanded the organ in my chest. Stop it . I wasn't going to fall into my old ways, planning a future with someone I barely knew. Going all in and losing myself.

He walked down the corridor, and as soon as he turned the corner, a thought hit me. Even if something did happen between us, there was no way it could lead to anything serious. I was leaving in less than twenty-four hours, and we lived thousands of miles away from each other.

To most people, those circumstances wouldn't be ideal. To me, they ensured I wouldn't get carried away. I would be on that plane tomorrow evening. I didn't have that much time left in Firefly Island, but if Harlan was up for it, I wouldn't mind spending it with him.