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“Yeah, a ring and a wedding planner.”
My assistant is surprised, and I don’t blame her. I’ve never so much as talked about a girlfriend before and now I’m talking about getting married.
I know that Vera isn’t officially mine yet, but I know that she will be. I always close the deal and this thing with her is the most important deal of my life. I won’t stop until Vera is mine.
And she will be mine.
EIGHT
Vera
I half expected Fisher to show up first thing this morning, but he didn’t. I hate to admit it, but I had even waited a bit before I left to start my day. I had been kind of looking forward to seeing him again, though I won’t admit that to him.
I head back to the house for lunch, and when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel, I turn to see Fisher pulling up. He smiles and waves at me as he parks, and I wave back.
This is it. Our third and final date. After this, I’ll be a million dollars richer, and my problems will be solved, at least for a little while. Plus, Fisher will be gone.
My stomach drops at the thought, but I try to ignore it. That’s what I wanted, after all.
Right?
My stomach clenches, and I know that I have to admit to myself that somewhere over the last few days, my feelings have changed. I don’t want him to leave, but it feels like I can’t admit that to him.
“Our third and final date,” I say as Fisher heads my way. “What do you have planned for us today?”
I don’t miss how he flinches and looks worried when I say final date. I swallow hard, forcing the words that want to come out back down.
“Well, I thought that I would help you out here and then take you out to dinner. Then, if you’re up for it, we can go to the bowling alley or something.”
“Bowling, huh?”
“They’re supposed to have glow-in-the-dark bowling at the alley in town. It looked like it might be fun,” he says, and I smile.
“I can’t remember the last time that I went bowling. I think it was with Cameron and some friends when we were fifteen,” I admit, and he grins.
“Me either. I think maybe it was a birthday party when I was in like the sixth grade or something.”
“So, you’re saying that I might have an edge on you then,” I joke, and he laughs again.
“We’ll see.”
“I was just about to make a sandwich for lunch. Are you hungry?”
“Sure.”
He follows me into the house and then into the kitchen. I start to gather the stuff to make our sandwiches, and Fisher takes a seat at the small table in the corner.
“What have you been doing this morning?” I ask him as I make our food.
“Getting organized with some things,” he says vaguely.
“Work stuff?” I probe, and he nods.
“Yeah, what about you?” He asks.
“Work stuff.”
“And how are the wolves this morning?”
