Jane dragged her bag across an icy patch. “So when does it warm up?”
“May? June?”
“No!”
“Don’t think about it,” Taylor said, as they arrived at her car and she clicked the unlock button on her key ring. “It’ll just make it worse.”
Inside the car, as Taylor turned the engine on, Jane held her hands to one of the vents, waiting for the heat to kick in. “You have to come, Taylor. It’s the party of the century. Everyone’s going to be there—.” she broke off, frowned, hesitated. “Okay, from the sluggish ticket sales, we know not everyone will be at the Graff Hotel Friday night, but most of Crawford County’s movers and shakers will. It’s going to be beautiful. Don’t you want to see the ballroom decorated?”
“I do. That’s why I’ve volunteered to help Risa deliver the flowers Friday. But that’s enough for me. I love to read about Balls in my Regency romances, but there’s nothing in me begging to go to a ball. Besides, even if I went, what would I wear?”
“That’s easy. I’ll take you shopping, and Taylor, you have to go. We’re sitting at the Sheenan table. It’d be rude to not go now.”
Taylor backed out from the parking spot, shifted into drive. “Just have catering remove a place setting and chair from the table. No one will even notice if there is eight, nine, or ten at the table.”
“Yes, they will.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Yes. They will.” Jane exhaled hard before adding in a small voice. “Because you’re Troy Sheenan’s date.”
“What?” Taylor slammed on her brakes and stared at Jane.
“He just broke up with his girlfriend and he needed a date and you didn’t have a date so I told him–”
“No, you did not.”
“I did.”
“Why would you do that?”
“He’s really nice.”
“No he’s not. You said he broke your heart.”
“Okay, nice is maybe the wrong word. But he is seriously gorgeous and sexy and smart. Very, very smart. And successful. Rich as Midas—”
“Jane, no. He sounds awful. Yuck. No.”
“It’s just for the Ball. You can go with Mitch and I, and we’ll drive you home. And I promise that Troy won’t make a move—”
“No.”
“Although he is by far the best kisser—”
“Don’t care. Don’t want to know.” Taylor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she moved her foot from the brake to the gas pedal. “And you agreed after that last terrible set up that you wouldn’t put me through anymore blind dates.” She shot Jane a severe look. “I’m holding you to that promise, Jane.”
Jane slunk down in her seat. “I’m not asking you to marry him, just be his date.”
Taylor said nothing, her gaze narrowed and focused on the road.
“Normally I wouldn’t set him up. I wouldn’t want to see him with another woman but you’re not... plastic... and you wouldn’t be into him for his money...” Jane’s voice drifted off. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Silence followed.
Taylor clamped her jaw tight.
She was not interested in going to the Ball, and definitely not interested in being set up with gorgeous, rich, sexy Troy Sheenan, Jane’s ex-love, whom Taylor had heard far too much about over the past few months.
Good Lord. From everything Jane had said, Troy was a handsome, ruthless, self-absorbed playboy. Could anything be worse?
“You’d enjoy talking to him,” Jane said faintly, hands knotting in her lap. “He’s very smart—brilliant, really—and exceedingly well read. You should see his personal library—”
“Jane.”
“He’s just got his hands full with his break up, his dad dying, and hosting the Ball for us in his hotel. It’s a massive expense that he personally is underwriting.”
Taylor flexed her fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not my problem, and it’s not yours, either.”
“I know, but I offered to help—”
“Wait. You offered to set him up? He didn’t ask you?”
“No.”
“Oh, Jane.” Taylor sighed. “You’re still in love with him.”
Jane’s head bowed. “I know we’re not going to be together. And I’m moving on, I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t care for Troy, and it doesn’t mean I can’t want him to be happy.”
Taylor just shook her head. She’d been in Jane’s shoes once, back when she was in graduate school, and it was a bad place to be. Unrequited love was brutal. All those intense emotions, bottled up inside, making your feelings strong, too strong. “You need to let him go. Completely.”