41
ISCARF DOWN THE REST of my breakfast, quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on some makeup. I skip the mascara.
I hop in my car, bottle of water and purse in tow, and set off on the two hour drive to my hometown. I sing to the radio, and I’m deliriously happy. What could it be? Possibilities run through my mind. His cat had babies, which explains why she was so chubby. No wait, his cat is male. There’s a deer in his backyard. He knows how I love to spot large wildlife. No, the deer would be long gone by the time I got there. He’s going to propose. No, that’s just plain crazy.
He’s bought a new car, one of those old vintage cars we’re both crazy about. But that’s something he could bring to me. Unless, the car wasn’t in good repair, a fixer-upper. Yep, that would be exactly up Blake’s alley. That must be it, I decide. A new vintage car, or possibly a motorcycle.
When I finally get there, there are no new cars or bikes in his yard. I dash out of my car, and don’t even go say hi to Momma. I run right to Blake’s place.
My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage as I knock on the door. Blake is all smiles when he answers, gorgeous as always in a long sleeve white shirt and dark jeans. He’s clean shaven today, and holds a cup of coffee. Jekyll slithers between his legs and eyes me curiously. He has bright green eyes, and you can tell he’s friendly. Not as beautiful as Hyde, but pretty sweet.
“Come in,” he says.
I slip off my red heels and follow him to the kitchen. I’m impressed by the space; white cabinets, granite countertops, an apron sink and a rustic harvest table; classic modern country. I’m too eager to talk about his awesome kitchen. I get straight to the point. “Where is this surprise?”
“You look cute today,” he says with a playful smile.
I look down at the outfit I threw together; ripped jeans and a Coldplay t-shirt, white ankle socks. My hair is unwashed, and my eyes are still a little smoky.
“So what did you want to show me?” I ask, eager to find out.
He bites his bottom lip as his gaze travels over the length of my body.
My jaw drops. “You didn’t lure me here under false pretenses just for a bootie call?” I ask. “Because if you did, I will kill you.”
He laughs. “No, there is something I need to show you.”
“Then show me.”
He inches closer. “God, I was planning to take you right out to see it but…”
“But what?!” Now, I’m getting really annoyed. Patience has never been my strong suit.
He pulls me in to him. “But you look so fucking hot, you’re making me hard.”
Oh crap…
His words turn me on instantly, like the flick of a switch. I have no control when it comes to this man. I close my eyes, determined not to give in. The delicious scent coming off him is not helping; soap and berries.
I open my eyes and stare straight at him. “After you show me,” I say. “We’ll fuck like bunnies. I promise.”
His smile is wicked and I want to take my words back. I want to have him now, right here in the middle of his kitchen.
He pulls away. “Sounds like a plan.”
A small part of me is disappointed, but I’m still so curious. I can’t wait to see.
He catches me by surprise when he grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
I follow him eagerly. We hop into his truck, and zoom off around the bend and down the road. Whatever it is, he seems pretty excited about it.
The drive is very short. We’re heading downtown, and I’m still wracking my brain, trying to figure out what it could be. He parallel parks on the street, right in front of In Style Boutique. The windows are empty, save for four naked mannequins, and there’s an OUT OF BUSINESS sign hanging in the window.
My heart sinks. I used to come here all the time with Momma. I have so many memories of this store: The bowl of candy Mrs. Davies always had on the counter, the cool framed posters on the wall, vintage Vogue covers, and the tall gilded mirrors in the change rooms, where I would twirl and dance and pretend to be a pretty princess. Mrs. Davies would let me try on some of the pieces. I’d be lost in the oversized dresses, strands of pearls around my neck. I still remember the old record player in the corner where she’d play classical music.
Blake smiles at me when I step out of the car. He takes my hand in his and leads me to In Style Boutique. I’m slack-jawed and speechless as I follow him. He unlocks the door, and with a hand on the small of my back, he ushers me in.
There is no clothing anywhere, but the space is far from bare; a gorgeous chandelier hangs from the ceiling, mahogany shelves line the walls, and silk hangers hang from empty racks. I study the familiar cash register counter, the vintage Vogue prints on the wall, and the record player in the corner. In the distance, I can see the beautiful flower curtains hanging in the two change rooms. My heels click loudly against the hardwood floor as I cross the room in a flash. Yes, the tall gilded mirrors and velvet benches are still there.
