Page 42 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
“Babe!” a voice called from the ballroom entrance. It belonged to a man with sandy brown hair and a sharp blue suit. Victoria’s husband-to-be, I presumed. “The staff have a question about the valet.”
“Be right there.” Victoria smiled back at me, then gestured toward the table where I’d be doing live lettering. “And everything should be there. But if you need anything, let me know.”
As her and Reagan’s heels clicked toward the exit, I couldn’t help but think I may have gotten Victoria wrong. She was a lot more personable than I’d previously imagined. But I guess anyone would look warm standing next to Reagan, Ice Queen.
I glanced at my watch. Only twenty minutes before the shower started. Shit. My mini panic attack had cost me.
Beck read the urgency in how I rushed to sharpen a piece of chalk. “How can I help?”
“Can you prime the board for me?” I said, nodding toward the chalkboard on the ground.
Amanda had let me know there would be one, so I’d already created an outline to transfer over. The message greeted guests and let them know they could get a shell inked with a name or short phrase.
“What do I do?” he asked as I handed him a piece of chalk.
“Just rub it down, lengthwise.”
Beck licked his bottom lip, looking very much like he was holding in a smile. “Did you hear yourself say that?”
“Har. Har,” I said, working to keep the blush off my cheeks. A valiant effort but not an effective one. “Now get to work.”
“What is the priming for?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“It keeps the lettering from staining the board.”
“Hmm,” he said as though I’d given him an interesting fact to store away. After he’d finished, he set the chalk on the table and dusted his hands.
We had the table set up and ready to go just as guests started trickling in. A guy shook Doug’s hand, hugged Victoria, and then noticed Beck.
“Hey, man!” he called warmly.
Beck waved back. “How’s it going, Koontz?”
“You should get out there,” I said. “Mingle with your friends.”
“But you’re my date. And I don’t want you sitting here alone.” Something swelled in my chest, but I shoved it down.
“I am your date, but I’m also your sister’s calligrapher. You can’t be over here distracting me when I have a job to do.”
“Oh, so I’m distracting?” he asked with a flirty little grin.
“Get out of here,” I said, trying not to laugh and failing.
His face turned serious. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
My heart stupidly skipped a beat over his concern. He just doesn’t want you to ruin the party by fainting, I told the organ in my chest.
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded at Beck. He backed away from the table, giving me one last smile before joining the steadily growing crowd.
With Beck—my distraction—gone, my imposter syndrome kicked back into gear. I felt like any moment, spotlights would glare down on me, and someone with a megaphone was going to call out, She’s not Hailey. And she’s certainly not qualified for this!
I swallowed back the thought and found another task, testing pens on one of the Capiz shells to find the best option for lettering. The gold popped on the shell and didn’t smear like the black had. Good, I’d been hoping for that option. Something as plain as black didn’t seem befitting of an event like Victoria’s shower.
I looked up as Beck greeted a stylish older woman with bouncy gray curls. They embraced warmly. When Beck pulled back, he shook the hand of the man next to her. I noticed the man’s eyebrows—sharp like Beck and Victoria. Judging by the stiff handshake, those were their parents. But neither Beck nor his father held a look of disdain, just reservation.
As they went their separate ways, I clocked the way his father sighed and how Beck’s head bowed slightly. Things looked complicated, indeed.
Beck shook it off quickly enough. He clapped his hands over the shoulder of a man who looked to be in mid-conversation. They both smiled, but Beck’s was luminous. I couldn’t help it. I smiled too. It’s fine, I thought. He has a nice smile. So what?
