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I drop the milk on the counter while I reply to Hannah.
ME ~So you keep saying. But you still haven’t given me a valid reason.~
I’m being pushy. I know it, and I don’t care. I decided last night that I want her, and damn it, I’m going to have her. I finish making my coffee while I wait for her response.
HANNAH ~Because I said so, Sam. Just leave it at that. I’d be happy to have breakfast with you tomorrow, but today is not a possibility.~
My teeth grind. Tomorrow. I can wait until then. I just don’t want to.
ME ~Fine. I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?~
HANNAH ~Bahahaha. I’m not telling you where I live! You could be a psycho with a fetish for rummaging through other people’s trash. I’ll meet you.~
I blink. Then I blink again. Did she. . . I stare at the screen, and despite myself, I laugh. Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before.
ME ~I assure you I have not, and will never, rummage through trash.~
HANNAH ~Meh. There’s a first time for everything.~
Settling onto one of the stools in the kitchen, I sip my coffee.
ME ~True. But not in this instance. Can I at least send a car for you?~
HANNAH ~Nope. Just tell me where to go. I can find my own way.~
ME ~Stubborn woman.~
HANNAH ~Stubborn, but fun ;)~
I shake my head then send her the address of my building and tell her to be there by six. She might not want me to know where she lives, but I couldn’t care less if she’s aware of where I live. The restaurant downstairs will do just fine for our breakfast date.
Taking my coffee to my room with me, I stride into my closet and dress for another day in the office. Technically, I don’t need to go in, but I have issues letting go of control. I can’t help it. The need to see for myself that everything is as it should be is a compulsion.
On more than one occasion, I’ve been accused of being a workaholic, but the truth is, I simply haven’t found anything I’d rather be doing. So, I work. I continue to build the family portfolio with new and interesting ventures that attract my attention and pique my curiosity.
I leave things like taking the family jet on spontaneous trips to Europe or sailing the yacht around the Bahamas for a month to Tom. That’s more his style, although he does work hard when he’s in the office.
He’s suggested it’s time I took a leaf out of his book and learned to relax. But honestly, if I were to take time off, I’d be bored out of my brain or stressing about how things were being run while I was away.
I reach for a white undershirt and slip it over my head before tugging a button-down from a hanger and sliding my arms in. As I take another swig of coffee, my mind goes back to Hannah. Behind my closed lids, I can see her gorgeous face and that pink hair of hers. A smile curves my mouth.
She is so damn pretty. I was instantly attracted to her last night, which caught me off guard—bright, outrageous hair doesn’t generally do it for me. But it only served to make the aqua blue of her eyes stand out more.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I take a pair of jeans from the shelf and put them on. Drinking the last of my coffee, I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror and run my hand over the stubble coating my jaw. Normally, I’d shave before going into the office, but I have a feeling Hannah will like it, so I leave it and head out for the day.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
What doesone wear on a breakfast date?
I searched the address Sam sent me, and it looks like we’re eating at a fancy restaurant located on the ground floor of one of the most prestigious apartment buildings in the city. Tapping my finger on my chin, I peruse my closet in search of an appropriate outfit.
What could be fancier than glitter?!I snatch my glittery black capris from their hanger and pair them with a gorgeous crisp white, long-sleeve, silk blouse I’ve been dying to wear. It’s still cool enough in the mornings to get away with long sleeves, thank goodness.
Now for shoes. I go back to tapping my chin as I run my gaze over my extensive shoe collection. Ha! My Jimmy Choo knock-offs will go beautifully with my outfit. Grabbing them from their perch, I check the time: five-twenty. Crap. I lay everything on the end of my bed then jump in the shower and clean myself off quickly.
Luckily, I washed my hair last night, so all I need to do is throw it in a quick braid that hangs over my shoulder.
When my hair is as good as it’s going to get, I apply a light coat of foundation, some mascara, and gloss.
