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Davis: Come on, Eliiiii
iiii! Don’t make me beg. You know I’ll do it! I’ll drive down to your fancy o ce and serenade you until you agree to come out!
Libby laughed but stood her ground. Her present situation was complicated enough without adding the Davis factor to the mix. Grateful he’d finally taken no for answer, she went back to the hard work of helping others not be equally as tragic in love.
THE PARKING GARAGE WAS FULL OF PUDDLES FROM THE RAIN THAT HAD
come and gone while Libby was working. The night had been dark enough to obscure her view out her massive windows, so it came as a surprise when she had to walk around the huge puddles to avoid ruining her shoes. Not a great day for black suede.
With earbuds in her ears, Libby was so distracted by her Buddhist podcast that she didn’t notice the figure leaning against her SUV until it was too late.
“What are you doing here?” she shrieked more accusatorially than she intended.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Davis replied with a crooked smile on his ruggedly handsome face.
Libby refused to smile at the sight of his pretty eyes and hair he’d started keeping long. He’d taken her advice and stopped letting his mother cut it. He’d also listened to her about leaving a little bit of stubble on his chin. She tried not to dwell in self-satisfaction.
“I’m pretty sure I told you not to come here,” she replied, trying her best to ignore him as she pulled her headphones out and unlocked the car. She was grateful it opened at her proximity and she didn’t have to retrieve the keys. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hands tremble. “How did you get in here anyway?”
“I bribed Mario with one of those sandwiches he likes, plus I told him I was here to win you back,” he added with a chuckle.
Hilarious.
“I’m going to have to stop rewarding him with food.
Looks like I’ve created a monster,” she joked, thinking of the building manager who was too sweet and naive for his own good. Or at least for Libby’s good.
Libby tossed her bag into the car, but before she could follow it in, Davis slipped between her and the seat,
e ectively blocking her path. Her stomach clenched at his proximity. At the scent of the cologne he’d started wearing a few years ago.
Did he put it on especially for me? Does he remember I gave it to him as a gift or has he never stopped using it? Libby wasn’t sure which possibility made her more nervous.
“Can’t I at least get a hug? I flew all the way here from New York!”
Libby clenched her jaw to stop from smiling when he stretched out his long arms. “You came here for a gig. Not for me.”
“Can’t it be both? You know I was right about to call you when you texted,” he added without dropping his arms.
“Oh yeah, that’s why you answered right away?” she asked with a playful roll of her eyes.
“You’re really going to leave me standing like this?” he asked, skirting her question. “I’ll do it, Eli. I’ll stand like this so long I won’t be able to play the song I wrote for you.”
“What song?” she asked, immediately regretting having fallen for his nonsense.
“A song for my brown-eyed beauty,” he explained.
Mistaking her hesitation for acceptance, he wrapped his arms around her and enveloped her in a crushing hug.
“Davis,” she said, wiggling away. “My eyes are green.
Dark green, but still green.”
“I know that!” He took a step back and feigned o ense.
“It’s called creative license. It just worked better for the lyrics, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Come on,” he grabbed her by the arms, “I need you there. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I think about you every day.
Every single day,” he repeated in a less frantic and more sober tone.
