Free Charming by Krystal Wade Page A

Haley’s breath away. “I guess? I’m not positive I want to introduce you to people as my date if it’s only an ‘I guess’.”
    “Yes.” Oh my God. “Yes. This is a date.”
    “Good.” Grinning, he linked his fingers with hers and dragged Haley around the edge of the dance floor, where people sat at white-clothed tables with tea lights burning in small glass jars, introducing her to so many people she already knew. People jumped up and hugged her and kissed her cheek and said things like, “Oh, Haley, it’s been ages. You’re so grown up. So beautiful. You look just like your mother.”
    Things that made Haley want to cry with joy—these people still cared, or at least pretended to—things that made Chris smile radiantly all night.
    “Can you believe she only works on the floor?” Chris asked Mr. Smith, an accounting supervisor from the headquarters office.
    Mr. Smith shook his head. “Such a brilliant mind. Why are you wasting it working the floor? You should be learning how to operate businesses from a higher level.”
    Caught off guard, Haley stumbled, “I—”
    “She’s not wasting anything. You should see the way working the floor makes her smile, such a rare treasure to see.”
    Haley flushed scarlet.
    “Sorry about that.” Tugging her to the middle of the dance floor, away from the now questioning scrutiny of Mom’s former employees, as the music changed to something less classical but still slow, Chris said, “May I have this dance?”
    Face fighting different expressions, confused about whether a smile, a laugh, a frown, or crying would be appropriate, Haley managed to stammer out, “You may.”
    Chris slid one hand around Haley’s waist and the other held firmly to her hand. He pulled her close, so close the heat from his body felt as though it belonged to her, leaned his head next to her face and placed his cheek on her hair. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
    “Me either.” She inhaled him, fresh, like spring rain body wash, and a spicy, rich scent from some type of cologne.
    “I’m glad you did.”
    Me too . But saying those words would be too much, make him think more could happen between them that could not happen. Haley closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. His heart raced, raced like he’d run five miles, afraid.
    She smiled.
    “Come with me?” Chris pulled his face back but kept his body perfectly aligned with hers, perfectly touching.
    “Where?”
    “My room.”
    Haley took a step back. “Chris—”
    “To talk, away from the watchful eyes of Deerfield’s best gossipers.” Chris shrugged and looked pointedly around, guiding Haley to do the same.
    “Oh.”
    Everyone had their eyes glued to Chris and Haley, new CEO’s son, former CEO’s daughter. Very juicy gossip.
    Keeping his fingers laced with hers, he led Haley up the deck stairs and into the two-story den. Windows spanned the length of one wall, and a fire burned in the brick fireplace. A few people sat on the sofa, close and cuddling, flirting. Chris inclined his head when they said hello, then kept walking with her up the wide, wooden staircase, along the catwalk and into his room. He led Haley through the wide open and bright space—such a clean, neat space—and to the couch in a little nook created by slants in the roof, a half-octagonal shape.
    She took a seat on one of his huge, overstuffed beanbags—not childish things, but soft leather, cool at first but instantly warming. Chris grabbed a remote, pressed the power button, then tossed the thing to his bed and took a seat next to Haley as soon as the music drifted from unseen speakers.
    “How do you do it?” he asked.
    “Do what?” Haley played with the hem of her dress, careful not to turn into him too much and give him the wrong idea.
    Chris took her hand again and placed it on top of his, then used his index fingers to draw little circles. “Anything, everything. Your mom was CEO of Berkshires; people loved you. Your