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I feel the smile die on my face.
His expression is one of impatience, so I answer, “I’m going out. I probably won’t be back until late. Gonna wander the mall. Renew my gym membership. Eat while I’m out at that coffee shop with the soup so… do you mind eating leftovers? There’s lasagna there. Or would you like me to get something delivered. I could bring back–”
“I’ll figure it out. Have fun.”
“Need anything before I go?” I ask.
“I’m good. Hit a rhythm here with my story, so wanna keep it up. Sorry.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Thanks. Have fun.” He turns his back to me and opens his laptop again.
I would’ve shared my good news, but his reaction completely halted me. Dismissed.
That bitterness that’s been creeping in lately is picking up steam. Now it’s seeping in through multiple foundation cracks. Of course I don’t want to mess up his writing rhythm, but he’s been like this non-stop. Irritated or at the very least terse with me.
He’s in his office from morning to night and lately we’re lucky if we have more than breakfast together.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’m celebrating alone. And I’m looking forward to it. I’m pushing away the urge to fully consider my future. To think about what I want for a change. To think about whether this is what I want for the rest of my days. Walking on eggshells. Being bullied into cheating. As much as he says it’s not cheating if he’s sanctioned it, it’s not how I’m built.
I pull my thoughts back, afraid to go further down that road. Because there might be no turning back. And to abandon Adam and our plans isn’t something I ever thought I was capable of.
I shake it off, deciding not to let him get me down today. I want to celebrate my work achievement and get out of this house, so I shove the negativity away and change out of my typical work-at-home comfy clothes into jeans and a cute top. I put on some makeup and jewelry, spritz some perfume, and take the ponytail down before I grab my phone and keys and head out.
Twenty minutes into my bookstore wander, I see none other than the hot nightclub owner from last Friday night. I feel my face flame with heat; I’m sure it’s bright red.
It’s weird, too, because I could’ve sworn I’d left his business card on the bar, yet found it in the pocket of my dress when I took my stuff to the drycleaners yesterday. I’m guessing that’s courtesy of Alannah who mentioned him and suggested I use him as my hall pass about half a dozen times over the weekend.
I tucked the matte charcoal card with raised glossy black letters into a pocket in my purse for no logical reason instead of tossing it into the trash.
I duck out, abandoning my planned purchase on a table. Derek Steele probably wouldn’t remember me, but for some reason, I don’t want to run into him.
I pull in a big breath when I get outside and let it out slowly as I make my way across the parking lot. In broad daylight he looked just as sinfully attractive as he did under the lights of his dim nightclub. Tall, built, with that sexy dark and disheveled hair. Those dark eyes.
He’s got a five o’clock shadow today and he’s in jeans and a black shirt under a leather jacket instead of an expensive suit, but he looks just as much like sex, money, and power today as he did the other night.
In the coffee shop down the street from the mall, I’m kicking myself for not buying that book. I’m scrolling my phone while I eat and while the soup is as good as always, the experience feels a little underwhelming without a fresh new paperback.
I often read e-books, but this dinner and a paperback date for one has a different feel to it for me. Cracking the spine. Smelling the paper. Drooling over a sexy cover.
I decide to read the e-book sample of the paperback I’d almost bought. Maybe I’ll go back to the bookstore and get it after I eat and read it in my office at home tonight.
I’m deep into reading reviews of the book when I hear something being set on my table, so I look up, expecting a refill for my green tea. But it’s the book I had planned to buy. And resting on top of it is a masculine, attractive hand with an expensive-looking watch on his wrist.
My eyes take a slow journey up to the perfectly sinful face of Derek Steele.
“Worried I’d bite?” he quips, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
My mouth drops open.
“Good call,” he adds, then sits at my table.
“Excuse me?” I rasp.
“You saw me and took off like your sweet little ass was on fire. Like a terrified little bunny rabbit. Thought I’d buy this for you and see if I could find you.”
I tilt my head to the side. “How did you find me?”
