Page 26 of One Midnight Kiss

The crunchy lettuce and the perfect dressing were ruined. Time would tell whether Fox would ruin my evening, too.

I was tired and ready to curl up in my pajamas with my book by the time I pulled up to my craftsman cottage in Kirkland. It was a far cry from my office in downtown Seattle. My house was small and quirky, with a garden full of lavender and rosemary and a covered front porch where I drank my coffee on Sundays. The back patio was covered as well, a must in the Pacific Northwest. I loved the lush green that stuck around from March to October, but that meant I had to deal with the rain.

It wasn’t so bad.

I walked up the front walk, noting the empty flowerbeds. I was going to plant some of that purple cabbage looking stuff. I loved color. At home. Not at work. I unlocked the door and let myself in. Inside, the floors creaked in all the familiar places. There were colorful rugs and mismatched throw pillows, a sharp contrast to the sleek, minimalist style of my office.

My royal blue velvet couch was the centerpiece. Anyone that met me in the business world would never believe this was my home. I loved color. It was like I was two different people. There was the practical, no-nonsense business side of me and the whimsical, cheerful homebody who loved vibrant colors and lots of personality. The same woman who was a cutthroat marketing manager had a cloud-shaped mirror in her hallway and painted walls the color of sunshine. I tossed my steel-gray Kate Spade bag on a pale green wingback chair in the corner.

I needed to change for my wine date and I was already running late. I had no idea what I was going to wear. I shouldn’t care. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress Fox. I couldn’t care less what he thought.

But maybe I did a little.

I walked into my bedroom and turned on the lights. My bedroom. My haven. I painted it in light shades of lavender and sage green. It was supposed to be serene and help me sleep better. I didn’t know if that was the case, but I loved to be in my room. My oversized bed was covered in an ocean of white linen with purple accent pillows, perfect for lounging in on lazy days.

I opened up my walk-in closet and stepped inside. I took off my heels and put them on the shelf and surveyed the dress options. My closet was organized. It was probably the only part of my home that reflected my professional life. The closet had been renovated after I moved in to accommodate my wardrobe. I liked it tidy.

I had business attire on one side, all black, white, and gray. The casual portion of my closet was filled with every color of the rainbow. Blues, pinks, greens, yellows, and reds stood out vibrantly, beckoning me to choose them.

But those were clothes from my old life.

The dress code at the wine bar was casual, but I still found myself lingering in front of the dresses, hesitating longer than I should have. Why did I care what I wore? It wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting, plain and simple.

I settled on a little black dress, something simple but flattering. I didn’t want to show him the other side of me. Since the divorce, I found myself holding back. I didn’t let anyone in. The only time I wore my fun clothes was when I was at home and could be me.

I let my hair down, running my fingers through it. It looked good tonight—sleek and shiny from the blowout I’d gotten that morning. Satisfied, I slipped into a pair of red heels for just a tiny pop of color and grabbed my purse, ignoring the little voice in my head that was screaming at me to cancel, to call it off and make an excuse like a sensible person.

But somehow, that would have felt like he won. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I walked out the door, locking it behind me.

Half a mile from the wine bar, I heard a loud pop. The steering wheel jerked in my hands, and the car started to wobble. I swore under my breath and pulled over to the side of the road. Of course. Of course this would happen tonight, of all nights.

I climbed out of the car, the chill of the evening air biting at my bare legs. I knelt down to look at the tire, and sure enough, it was flat.

“Son of a bitch!” I shouted at the moon.

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