Page 63 of When We Were Young

She tilts her head, biting her lower lip. “You could help me celebrate. I’ve got a suite this time.”

I shift my leg so her foot falls away, but she places it right back where it was.

“What do you say? Think of all the fun we could have.” Her words are seductive, but I’m not even remotely tempted.

I reach down, wrap my hand around her ankle, and move it off me. “Not tonight. And please stop.”

She frowns. “What’s gotten into you?”

I know exactly what has gotten into me. A stubborn, brilliant, gorgeous blonde I never forgot, and never thought I’d see again. The only woman I’ve ever wanted more with. And that didn’t end well. So...

“Nothing’s gotten into me,” I say. “I’m just not interested tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and I really want to be alone.”

She studies me for a few seconds. Then she grabs the wine bottle and her glass and slides out of the booth, standing a few feet away.

“That’s fine, Holden. Be alone. Just remember this the next time you’re feeling lonely at one of these.” She gestures between us. “This doesn’t happen twice. I don’t get rejected, and I don’t give second chances.”

Damn. I never realized how sour she could be.

“Enjoy the rest of the conference, Danielle. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”

She narrows her eyes at me and huffs. Anger radiates from her.

“You’re so not worth it.” She stalks away.

“I know, Danielle,” I whisper to myself. “I know.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lizzie

“Knock, knock.” I immediately recognize the voice as Georgie’s. “Are you in here, Lizzie?”

I push myself up off the floor and pop up from behind the counter, where I was scrubbing the baseboards in the shop.

I’m surprised to see it’s not only Georgie, but Layla and Ruthie as well.

“Oh, hello. Nice to see you all.” I step to the sink and wash my hands. “What are you ladies up to?” I ask.

“We came to rescue you,” Layla answers.

“Rescue? I’m all right.”

“We thought it was about time that you got out and about. You’ve been spending all your time in here working, especially whenever Simon isn’t home, and you need a break,” Georgie answers for the group.

I don’t disagree with her. All the cleaning, painting, and peeling wallpaper has wiped me out, but it’s really coming together.

“What’s that saying? I’ll rest when I’m dead, or something like that?” I ask teasingly.

“Yes, and unfortunately, I know that’s probably true for you.” Georgie knows I’m a planner. I map out and schedule as much of my life as I’m able. I can’t afford not to if I want to keep everything running smoothly.

“There’s still a lot to do. But I’m making good time compared to my calendar.”

“Is that what that thing is?” Ruthie asks.

She walks over to the calendar I have pinned up on the outside of my office door. It’s a reminder of all the things I need to do to get this place ready, and when I need them done by. I keep it outside the office so that it motivates me even when I’m just passing through.

My cheeks heat, and suddenly I’m embarrassed by my obsessive planning. Ruthie stares at the calendar. Her mouth is slightly ajar, and she says nothing. Great, my inner control freak has even shocked Ruthie, and I’m betting not much does.