Page 33 of Do It With Me

“Don’t pretend you didn’t get misty-eyed too,” she teased, cutting into her omelet. “I saw you, tough guy.”

“I had something in my eye.”

“Yeah,” she said with a grin. “It’s called emotion.”

I laughed. “Right. So that’s what it was. No wonder I didn’t recognize it.”

“I thought you might not,” she returned without skipping a beat, humor shimmering in her eyes as she picked up a piece of bacon. “Don’t worry about it, though. It’s perfectly normal to feel that way at weddings.”

I leaned back in my chair with my fingers curled around my coffee, just watching her, though not as intensely as before. She filled the room with that warmth she carried without even trying, and it was like feeling sunshine after being in the shade for too damn long.

Somewhere between jokes and the coffee refills, it hit me that she fit here. Not just in this hotel room or at my side as my fake date last night, but in my life. I wasn’t sure what that meant yet, but I did know that I didn’t want the morning to end. And that I was genuinely interested in finding out more about her.

“So, what’s your store called?” I found myself asking after eating another piece of bacon myself.

She perked up a little, coming alive the way people usually only did when asked about their children. “It’s called Second Story.”

I smiled. “That’s cool. What do you sell? You mentioned the other night that it was vintage, but I don’t think you told me exactly what that entails.”

“A bit of everything. Furniture. Clothing. Some refurbished pieces of jewelry. I like finding things people have thrown out and making it beautiful again.”

“Reclaiming value,” I said. “I like that.”

She nodded and stirred the fresh cup of coffee she’d just made. “It’s not easy, especially lately, but I love it. It’s just that every business has slow months, you know? So I’m always looking for ways to increase revenue. Bring in more foot traffic. Generate more sales. Stuff like that.”

She was completely matter of fact when she said it. Not fishing for pity or making excuses. Just honest. Resilient. Even so, I could hear the weight behind her words.

She was hustling to keep the lights on and she wasn’t asking anyone to rescue her. It was impressive. “That’s really admirable, to be handling all that by yourself.”

A pink flush spread on her cheeks and she averted her gaze, a soft, almost embarrassed giggle sliding out of her. “Yeah, it’s a lot, but I manage okay. Most days. Besides, if I don’t do it, who will?”

The pride in her voice got to me almost as much as how humble she was about it. I’d met a lot of small business owners in my time and many seemed to believe that the world owed them something for all the hard work they put in, but not Ellora.

There was a spark in her that I hadn’t seen in anyone in a long time. She wasn’t driven by greed or ego. She seemed to have built her business simply because she loved it.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at her across the table. “You know, I spend most of my days surrounded by people who inherit things. Companies. Money. Names. You might not have the biggest empire, but you’ve got something most of them don’t.”

She arched a brow. “What’s that?”

“Guts,” I said. “You don’t wait around for people to hand you something. You make your own chances. That’s rare.”

And it’s also sexy as hell.

Her eyes widened. Then she laughed, trying to brush it off, but the faint pink climbing up her neck told me I’d gotten to her. She might not be quite as successful as I was, but we were kindred spirits, both hell bent on making our own way in the world.

I was just about to suggest we spend the day together and perhaps get to know each other a little better when her phone buzzed. She reached for it, and the second she saw the screen, her whole body went tense.

Her shoulders stiffened, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Everything about her changed in that one instant.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting down my coffee with my hackles already rising. Whoever had wronged her, I would make them pay for it. If she would let me, which I doubted, but at the very least, I needed her to know I had her back. “What can I do?”

She stood, already gathering her clothes and rushing toward the bathroom. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”

“Yeah, of course.” I tried to keep my tone casual, but her sudden shift had thrown me for a loop. “I just, uh, I realized I don’t actually know a whole lot about you. Do you have a kid or something?”

That made her pause for half a second. She glanced at me over her shoulder just as she reached the bathroom door. “No, I don’t have a child, but do I have a mother.”

That was all she offered. Before I could ask exactly what it meant, she was dressed and pulling her hair into a quick ponytail. She called herself an Uber, thanked me for breakfast, and pressed a hurried kiss to my cheek that felt way too much like goodbye.

Then she was gone and I stood there in the middle of the hotel room, surrounded by empty plates and the faint trace of her perfume, wondering where the mysterious woman was heading off to and why, after just one night together, it felt like I already missed her.