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"It's okay, Sienna, we were done anyway. Lucas, Chloe, go with your sister into the living room. I'll walk Christopher out."
The kids grudgingly follow Sienna out. Christopher and I leave the office too.
As soon as we're on the front porch, I shudder. The crisp autumn air raises the hair at the nape of my neck, and I rub my arms in an attempt to warm myself. The porch is my second favorite part of the house, after the living room. Come Halloween, there will be pumpkins along the entrance, and come Christmas, we'll unpack the family's decoration boxes, and the house will look like we're Santa's elves.
"About Lucas." Christopher begins, snapping me to reality.
"I'm sorry he cornered you like that," I say honestly.
"No problem. I can drop by." He rubs his jaw, his brow furrowed in concentration. "My schedule is packed during the week, but I can do weekends."
"Weekends would be great. Thank you. It'll mean a lot to him." My throat suddenly clogs, and I switch gears to professional again. "Let me know after you check your schedule with your assistant. I'd like for us to go shopping as soon as possible since some furniture can take a long time to be delivered. It won't take more than two hours."
He groans. "Hate shopping."
"I promise I'll make it worth your while."
He grins at this. "Any chance I get to see you in your thong? I can clear up my schedule for an entire day if thongs are in the cards."
"Christopher! No more no-filter lines or unintentional flirting."
A slow smile spreads on his face. Leaning in, he shoves a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at my earlobe. The slight touch sets all my nerve endings on fire. "Who said it was unintentional?"
Chapter Five
Victoria
"Crap!"
The curse escapes my lips as I push my body to the limit, doing the last of my sit-ups. Once I'm done, my body goes lax, and I lay my head on the exercise mat. Once upon a time, I used to go to a gym, but now I'm working out from home. I like the privacy, but I have to admit that being around other people who were going through the same hell was a great motivator. My breath is labored, and I close my eyes, attempting to cool off. My abs and booty are going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but it's all worth it to stay in shape. I do the routine three times a week, on the floor of my living room after the kids are asleep.
I push myself up on my elbows when my phone beeps with an incoming call. I put the phone on loudspeaker and lie back on the floor, trying to compose myself.
"Hi, Isabelle."
"I'm interrupting your workout again," she exclaims.
"Don't worry, I was done. Now I'm trying to remember how to breathe normally."
Isabelle is my business partner and my best friend. We worked together at the old company, and after I started my own business, she asked if I needed a partner. I was happy to say yes because it was reassuring to know I wasn’t completely on my own, and I loved the idea of working with my best friend.
"I want to run a few things by you, boss," she says, making me cringe. Even though we're partners, I realized early on that Isabelle relies on me for the heavy decision-making, and she wants my approval for everything. The problem is I've never been much of a leader, and being practically thrust in this position hasn't been easy. I listen to her patiently, offering my opinion.
"Great. See you Friday at lunch, then," she finishes. We have a weekly meeting where we bring each other up to date and draw plans for the next week, assessing whether we're on to meet our monthly goals.
"Sure."
After hanging up, I notice I have a text message waiting for me.
Christopher: Finally found time for the shopping trip.
Swallowing hard, I hover with my fingers over my phone, a familiar longing taking hold of me. Since his cryptic “Who said it was unintentional?” good-bye one week ago, we’ve only texted once. He told me his schedule was packed for the entire week, so he couldn't fit in the shopping trip. His weekend was also full already, but he assured me he could train Lucas the next weekend. We still haven't scheduled the shopping trip, hence his message.
Grinning, I begin to type back. Damn it, what's the spell this man has on me? Whenever I hear from him—or think about him—my face splits into a smile of its own accord. Midway through typing, I decide to call him instead. Sitting on the floor with my legs bent in a yoga pose, I dial his number and hold the phone to my ear.
"I was beginning to think you wanted to bail on the shopping trip," I say instead of hello once he picks up.
"I already admitted I hate shopping, but I'm a man of my word. Found time on Thursday or Friday after lunch. Can you make it on either day?"
