"Really?" The way the guys were talking before I left, it'd be another year.
"Yep. As soon as I see how you do, I'll be able to give you a firm date. We desperately need someone helping us out. Corey isn't getting any younger, and he primed Charleigh to take over the shop."
"He doesn't look that old." The words fly from my lips, and I feel bad as soon as they are out.
"He stays pretty active, but he's been working here nonstop since he opened the shop, and his wife is easing him into retirement."
"She's a smart lady."
"She really is. You'll meet her soon, I'm sure. She drops by from time to time to make sure we're all fed."
"I have a feeling I'm going to love her."
Without a knock, the door opens and Christian walks in. "Bianca." The words die on his lips as soon as he notices me and he trips, barely missing the chair before hitting the floor.
Three
Christian
Twice in one day.I'm not this fucking clumsy, but Wren being here in this space I've been spending all my time in, is throwing me for a loop. I hope like hell this isn't a common occurrence. If so, I'll be bruised after two days of her being here.
"Oh, shit," Bianca yells through laughter. Gotta love my hermana for keeping it real. She can't be like a normal sister and rush to my side? No, she has to sit there and laugh her ass off through my embarrassment.
I brace myself to get off the flooragainwhen a soft hand touches my arm. "Are you okay?"
"I think so." I let her help me to a sitting position, and even though it's been two years, she's still just as beautiful as she ever was. Her long hair is in some sort of bun on top of her head, and her hazel eyes meet mine. Her pale skin flushes, and I realize I'm staring.
She stands and holds her hand out to help me up. This might be even more embarrassing than falling in front of her. Men are supposed to be the ones lifting up the woman, not the other way around. At least, that's what all those teen shows Bianca used to watch portrayed.
"Thanks," I say as soon as I'm standing. Unsure what to do with my hands, I shove them in my pockets.
"No problem." Taking a step back, she clasps her hands in front of her. Looks like neither of us knows what to do with our hands. "Long time no see."
My gaze roams down her body. In all the ways she's stayed the same, she's also changed so much. Her hips are fuller than they were before and she's definitely no longer the teenager who moved away when I was sixteen.
"Yeah, it's been a minute." I avert my gaze so I don't seem like a creeper. That would suck for her to think I'm some creepy dude.
"Is there something you needed before you barged in here?" Bianca snaps at me before I can say another word.
"You don't have to be so bitchy." I roll my eyes. "I was trying to be nice and ask if you wanted me to grab you something to eat from across the street. Since I know how busy you get."
"Aw, that's sweet," Wren coos, and it endears her to me even more than she already was.
"Oh," Bianca relaxes her face. "That would actually be great."
"Do you want anything, Wren? They have some of the best burgers on the block."
She looks around the room, then at Bianca. "When am I starting?"
"Tonight, if you can."
"Then it might be a good idea for me to eat before then." She takes a step toward me. "Do you mind some company? It'd be a good idea for me to get an idea of the area since I'll most likely spend most of my waking moments here."
On the inside, I'm screaming, abort. Tell her now. But what comes out of my mouth is, "Sure."
Bianca eyes me and smirks as I hold the door open for Wren. I'm pretty sure she knows about the crush I had, and I beg with my eyes for her to not say anything. Zipping her fingers across her mouth, she acts like she's throwing away the key. Thank God. For all the ways she likes to torture me, at least she's keeping her mouth shut about this. Who knows how long that will last?
Wren follows behind me as I lead us out of Life in Ink. The restaurant is right across the street, but I'm not about to cross the street without going to a light. That's a good way for both of us to get run over.
