Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Orla

I tried to remember just how cute Finlay had looked with three puppies sleeping on his lap, while a team of hair and makeup people worked on me. It was the only redeeming quality I could think about him in this moment, as nerves twisted low in my stomach about attending the gala that evening. I should be at home on my day off, crocheting a blanket for Harris and listening to a podcast while Goldie blew some bubbles in her bowl.

Not at some swanky hotel in Edinburgh, in a fancy suite, stationed next to Lia, who was making similar noises of distress as I was.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Lia hissed, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror above the sink. They'd brought two chairs into the bathroom for us to sit on while they did our hair and makeup, if that told you anything about the size of the hotel suite we were in.

I could barely fit myself into my bathroom at home, let alone two chairs and a team of hair and makeup people. This had to be the fanciest bathroom I'd ever been in. I kind of wanted everyone to leave so I could pour myself a luxurious bath with loads of bubbles, and then open all the little jars by the sink to see what they held.

If Finlay and Munroe were going to spend this much money on hotel rooms, shouldn't I be using them to the fullest? Why even get a place this nice if we were just going to be out at a gala all night? It seemed like a waste of money to me, but who was I to tell other people how to spend their money?

To be honest, I hadn't even considered the need for a hotel room. But, of course, we'd need a spot to sleep. The gala was in Edinburgh, which was a fair drive from Loren Brae, and it wouldn't make sense to come home that night. I had checked the bus schedule to see the options to get home before Finlay had informed me that Munroe had reserved a block of rooms for us.

A shiver of excitement had danced through me before Finlay had immediately clarified that I would, naturally, have my own room.

Not a date, Orla. This was not a date.

I had to keep reminding myself of that fact because it was beginning to feel a little bit like a fairy tale. What with all the hair and makeup and a gorgeous dress that I was scared to touch, let alone wear. What if I spilled something on the dress? Willow would never forgive me .

"Did we agree to it? It feels a bit like we were steamrolled," I said. Guilt immediately filled me. Finlay had gone above and beyond his agreement to pay for the extension at the shelter—something which I'd honestly wondered if he'd even do. One thousand pounds was an incredible amount to pay for a date, and I'd kind of expected him to not fulfill his side of it. When I'd seen him there, and gotten a look at the numbers that Barbara was writing down, my impression of Finlay had shifted.

He'd looked decidedly uncomfortable with our adoration, particularly when Barbara gushed all over him, tears in her eyes, pulling him into a long hug before he left. Honestly, I'd been certain the man would have eaten the adulation right up, enjoying the praise and being center of the limelight. Instead, he'd quietly accepted the praise, but Barbara later had sworn me to secrecy, telling me in no uncertain terms how upset she'd be if word got out about Finlay's gift to the shelter.

He'd asked her not to tell anyone.

Protecting me? Or himself? I couldn't quite be sure, but my feelings about Finlay were more mixed than ever. I'd reached out to the group of women in the Order, having asked them to keep the information about Finlay paying for the date quiet, and they'd all agreed. I hadn't thought about his side of things when I'd told my new friends about it, but now Finlay had me wondering about the person beneath the shiny layers.

This past week, I hadn't seen him much, as we'd received a large delivery of supplies that had been on backorder due to a holdup of container ships in the Suez Canal, and it had been all hands on deck to bring the project back onto a timeline that Munroe would be happy with. Finlay had been active on-site, meeting with me when I needed clarification on something, but we'd both bent our heads to work.

I had to say this for him—he didn't hide himself in a fancy office and bark orders. No matter how posh his exterior seemed. Instead, he was involved in every aspect of the buildout, speaking with my team and listening carefully when they gave ideas or suggestions on ways to circumnavigate various issues that always popped up on a build.

In the meantime, I'd also spent mornings checking the work of my secondary crew assigned to Ramsay Kilts and I was pleased to see the burned building coming back to life. It was such a sweet spot, nestled at the end of the lane, and I loved creating a mix of work and living space for Willow and Ramsay to thrive in. I also loved just how much the grumpy highlander doted on sunshiny Willow. Where Ramsay was gruff, and likely terrifying to some, he was basically a mashed potato with Willow, giving her anything she desired so long as she kept smiling.

It was seriously too adorable, though I'd never, ever, be caught dead calling Ramsay adorable out loud.

"You know why I'm going. Not sure why you decided to go." I looked over to where a stylist lightly pinned Lia's riot of curls back from her face.

"Because that's fiancé code. You kind of have to do these things once in a while to support your person." Lia scrunched her face up in the mirror and I smiled.

"Luckily it doesn't seem to happen too often."

"Thank God. Could you imagine? There's no way I'd be able to run the restaurant and be a socialite. I love that we live far enough away from here that I don't have to be involved in events like this too often, but when I'm feeling the need for more stimulation than Loren Brae can offer, we can run over here for a show or something."

"Or a gala." I laughed at Lia's glare.

"I'm really hoping this won't be as painful as people seem to make galas out to be."

"Och, they're exhausting." This came from the woman currently curling my hair.

"I love them. I like to see what everyone's wearing," the woman doing Lia's hair chimed in.

"True enough. Sometimes they have a good guest, like a comedian or a band that's great fun. You'll enjoy yourself if you like to listen to all the gossip and see how fashionable everyone is."

Two things that I literally did not care for.

"Don't worry, Orla. I'll be by your side. We can escape for breaks when we need them." Lia reached over and squeezed my hand and I nodded, worry making me bite my lip.

"No lip biting, hon. I just lined them," the makeup artist gently chided me.

No lip biting. No cursing. No high-fives or fist bumps. Did I need to curtsy? Would I be shaking hands with people? What about if I screwed up which fork to pick up at dinner? I'd spent far too long the night before googling which fork was the proper one to use, but now as nerves kicked low in my stomach, all my careful research neatly fled my brain.

"Your hair is beautiful." I looked in the mirror where the woman curled my long hair. For much of my life, keeping it long had been more out of budget constraints than vanity, but now that I could afford regular haircuts, I'd found that I liked my long hair. Even if I just plaited it back most days, it had become a part of me. I often tugged on my plait when I was thinking or wound it around my hand when I was nervous. As a child, I'd been teased for my ginger locks, but I'd grown to love my hair through the years. Not that I ever gave it much thought anymore, as who had time for mooning over hairstyles when I had a million things on my to-do list each morning?

"It really is, Orla. You should wear it down more often." Lia peered at me in the mirror.

"Safety hazard at work."

"I get it. I wear a bandana most days to cover mine," Lia agreed. "But this style really suits you. It's just so pretty. You look like a real princess."

I laughed. I was certainly anything but.

"I feel like I'm getting the princess treatment, that's for sure."

"Just wait until you have your dress on. As annoying as it is, Willow knocked it out of the park."

I do look like a princess.

It was the first thought I had when I looked in the mirror after Lia had helped zip me into the dress. I stared at my reflection, not knowing this woman, unaware that I could even look this way.

This woman? Well, she was beautiful. An ethereal flower, blooming at midnight, poised to catch a dew drop on her petals.

She was not me . There was no way this image connected to aching muscles, sawdust-covered hair, and slivers in my palms. It was the most disconnected I'd ever felt from myself, and I stepped forward, staring into the tall mirror.

Willow had gone simple, erring on the side of elegant and sleek, seeming to understand that too much pomp and circumstance would have sent me running for the hills. Emerald-green silk highlighted my ginger curls that cascaded over my shoulders and down the back where the dress dipped low. Cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a figure-skimming bias cut showcased my body, but the silk drifted across my skin and wasn't too restrictive. I turned, looking to my back, admiring how the skirt fell in a few soft flounces, tucked artfully into the material, and ended just at the floor. The dress was stunning, but it was also comfortable, and for that I was grateful. I loved wearing my overalls all day because they allowed me ease of movement, and there was nothing about this dress that made me feel uneasy or restricted.

Aside from the fact that I didn't know who I was in it.

Two thin plaits held my hair back from my temples, and the makeup artist had done something fancy to my eyes, making them look larger, and my skin looked luminous and glowing against my dress.

"Tinted lip balm." The makeup artist handed me a tube of lipstick. "You don't need a lot of color on your lips and if you're not used to wearing lipstick, this is a better option. Just touch up through the night."

"Thank you." I tucked it in the matching handbag that Willow had made to go with the gown and took a deep breath, turning as Lia walked into the room.

"Oh, Lia. That's such a good dress for you."

"Isn't it? And she did put a damn ruffle on it, but I can't say I mind."

It was the tiniest of ruffles at the hem, a light touch of whimsy, and the blush pink highlighted Lia's dusky skin and made her look both elegant and extremely sexy.

"Munroe's going to swallow his tongue."

"I hope so. I feel kind of naked in this dress. But in a good way, you know?"

I shrugged not knowing how to answer that, just knowing that Lia literally glowed in the dress. She was going to make a beautiful bride when she did get married. Lia crossed the room and stood next to me in the mirror.

"We look damn good. These men are lucky to have us."

"Och, it's not like that. Finlay doesn't have me." My cheeks pinkened and I turned from my reflection, drawing a slow breath in to steady my nerves.

"Well, you know what I mean. To have us on their arms. And Munroe definitely will get to have me later if I can get him to keep his hands off me once he sees this dress. He's going to love it."

"If you disappear for a certain amount of time, I'll cover for you."

"Could you imagine?" Lia threw her head back and laughed. "Munroe's way too proper to steal away in the middle of a fancy function, but I'll know what he's thinking."

"You two are so cute together. "

"Thank you. I'm lucky to have found him." Lia paused and then closed her mouth, shaking her head once.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just want you to enjoy yourself tonight. Don't put any…rules on anything, you know? Just have fun. You look too gorgeous not to."

"It's the rules I'm worried about. What if I eat with the wrong fork?"

Lia gave me a look like I wasn't that bright, and my eyes widened.

"It wasn't the fork I was referring to."

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting our conversation, and we both turned.

"Come in," Lia called, and the makeup artist held the door open for Munroe and Finlay to walk into the lounge area of the suite.

Munroe's mouth dropped open and I beamed as he crossed to Lia, his heart in his eyes.

"This dress. I'm going to either kill Willow or pay her extra. You look like walking sin. In the best way."

"I told Orla I felt like I was naked in it." Lia winked up at him and Munroe reached out, his hands hovering inches over the silk.

"I'm scared to touch. For more than one reason." His expression turned wolfish, and Lia giggled, nudging him back with the tip of her finger.

"You don't get to mess me up yet. It took a team to put this together and I will not let you ruin their hard work."

"Are you certain? We can call this whole thing off and leave."

"Munroe! You're sponsoring this." Lia laughed, squeezing his arm. Munroe wore a black suitcoat and his kilt, and the two made a striking pair.

A throat cleared and I turned to Finlay, realizing I hadn't even given him my attention yet, so caught up was I with watching Munroe fall in love with Lia all over again.

My breath caught.

Finlay looked incredible. He, too, wore a kilt in soft grey with red, black, and white threaded through it. A crisp white shirt and dark waistcoat made him even more polished, and my stomach twisted in knots at the thought of having a man like this on my arm tonight.

"Orla."

My name was a whisper at his lips, just a gasp of air before acceptance, a flash of…something…in his eyes. Quickly, he shuttered the look and cleared his throat.

"Orla. You look lovely. Willow's done a fantastic job and this color really suits you."

Not quite the hungry welcome from him as from Munroe, but I reminded myself that this was a professional engagement. What did I expect? For him to fall at my feet because he saw me in a dress and professed his love? The entire idea was idiotic. I wasn't even sure if I liked Finlay half the time, and yet now a part of me—a deeply buried part of me, mind you—might want him to see me at my best and be overcome.

Stupid, really. This wasn't a fairy tale, and I was no princess.

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure how I'd feel, but she's designed it so I can move easily." I twirled for him, showing the dress off, while Munroe did his best to fawn all over Lia without dragging her into the bedroom .

"The dress is beautiful, as are you." Finlay stepped closer and bent forward, and I leaned in automatically. He dropped his voice. "May I tell you a secret though?"

"Aye." My heart hammered in my chest.

"While this is beautiful and I certainly won't deny you'll be the belle of the ball"—Finlay swept his hand out to my dress—"never are you more beautiful than when you're in your element, building incredible things, with the creative light shining in your eyes. That, to me, is when you're luminous."

The breath left my body, and my eyes caught on his, the moment hanging between us.

Because it didn't matter how much makeup or hair or fancy dresses I put on. Finlay saw me for me, and he thought I was beautiful just as I was. I wasn't sure how that sat with me, because I'd been certain he'd prefer this polished version of me. The woman that I didn't recognize in the mirror. Instead, he'd complimented me but told me he thought I was prettier when I was at work. In my overalls.

How was I ever going to keep my defenses up against a man who saw me clearly and accepted me for who I was—just as I was? The very thought was terrifying, and I needed to shift back into business colleague mode before I did something stupid like close the gap between us and lay my lips across his.

Because damn it, I wanted to. I'd wanted to the day in the shelter, when he'd donated so much money to a good cause, insisting on anonymity. There'd been a moment then, too, when I'd wanted to lean forward and capture his mouth in a kiss. I'd tried to tuck it away all week, that yearning I had for him, and now it reared its head inside me and his words shattered me.

Finlay thought I, Orla Clarke, builder, was beautiful. Just as I was.

"Orla, I apologize. My fiancée distracted me. You look stunning," Munroe said, shifting my attention to him and breaking the moment between Finlay and me. I turned, a smile at my lips.

"I don't blame you. If Lia wasn't a taken woman, I was considering asking for her hand myself."

"Thank God she's wearing my ring tonight. I'm certain I'll be beating the men off her." Munroe grimaced, and then tried out a scowling look. "There…does that look intimidating?"

We all grinned at the blond-haired man and his glasses.

"You're about as intimidating as a golden retriever puppy." Lia patted his cheek. "But I love you for it anyway."

"Excuse me, but puppies can be quite fierce." Finlay rushed to his friend's defense, holding up a finger. "I still have a bite from one from last week."

"Thank you, Finlay. You hear that, darling? I'm fierce." Munroe puffed his chest out and we all laughed. He checked his watch and then motioned for us to follow him. "Come on, come on. On we go. Let's get this over with."

At least I wasn't the only one nervous for the gala. I realized that maybe none of the people I was attending with tonight looked forward to a gala, but each had their own reasons for attending. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad night after all.

Particularly when Finlay held his arm out for me to take .

Even if I wasn't a real princess, maybe I could just play one for a little while.

"Look," I said and poked my sparkle trainers with hearts etched on them out from beneath my dress.

Finlay peered down, a wide smile breaking out on his face.

"There she is."