Ryan emerged from the den, his hard, stoic expression warming into a smile as he approached. He wore a dark blue suit and an immaculately tailored white shirt with a faint pattern I couldn’t make out. His collar was open at his throat and his jacket already discarded. “You look—” He stared at me, shaking his head. He took my hand and I did what anyone wearing a flouncy skirt would—I twirled. Brushing a finger along the ribbon ties at my shoulder, he added quietly, “I like this. It’s you.” “I thought so too.”
