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Can’t be thinking about some other woman when I’m trying to strike up a deal with this one. That’s a little too complicated for my taste.
I blow out a breath.
This is the most important pitch I’ll ever make.
There’s no room for mistakes.
I need a wife by tomorrow.
Which means I need to propose today.
It’s a crazy timeline, but it has to happen. If this falls through, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do next.
There.
Green.
Table to the right.
I stalk confidently forward, but my stride falters when I see who’s sitting there staring at a menu.
My eyes flutter closed.
Open.
Closed again.
The image doesn’t change.
And unless this woman has a twin…
“Elizabeth?”
She glances up. Brown eyes widen. They’re two deep mirrors into her head that hide none of her thoughts.
“Brogan?” She folds the menu. Sets it down. Starts to rise from her chair. Sinks back into it. “What are you doing here?”
I look her over. She’s got her thin, curly brown hair piled on the top of her head, leaving small tendrils near her ears. Pink lipstick draws my eyes to her lips. Sparkly earrings. A scooped, green dress.
It’s her.
She’s the only one wearing green in a sea of black.
Like a flower in a pile of fancy dirt.
I grab the back of my chair in a tight-knuckled grip.
“Did you—?” She laughs. It’s a bright, boisterous sound. Like she’s determined to make the world smile with every chuckle. “After our conversation yesterday, I never would have guessed you’d be a client of Make It Marriage.” Then she ducks her head. “Although I’m pretty sure the same goes for me.”
Her eyes drop to my fingers.
Pity crawls into her gaze, beaming like two stars bursting from the seams.
I get that.
I hate that, but I get it.
When she glances back up, I see questions in the depths of her dewy brown gaze.
