Oh shit. “I’d forgotten about that.” I ran my hand through my hair, searching for the courage to dive into this conversation. We’d been tiptoeing around this for months. That night last year.
The night that changed everything.
“I limped around like an old man for days. That shit left a bruise.” I eyed my now heeled shin. “Was it placed there strategically, so I’d end up injured? Or was it just a poor interior design choice?”
Her mouth twitched. “You’re the only man I’ve ever known who could bruise himself mid-kiss and act like it was the inanimate object’s fault.”
I held up my hands. “In my defense, I was ambushed by the hottest women I’d ever seen, so I was distracted.”
Her eyes flared with heat, despite her schooled expression.
“And that damn table came out of nowhere.”
My leg could have been severed, and it would not have kept me from kissing Evie. The morning after, it hurt like a bitch, but it was so worth it.
“You were drunk.”
“Tipsy,” I corrected. “You, on the other hand.”
“Don’t even start, Lawrence.”
I arched a brow. “Oh, I’m starting. You dragged me onto the dance floor during that ridiculous Bon Jovi cover, said you needed to dance. And by dancing, you meant endangering the lives of everyone around us.”
She clamped her mouth shut to keep from laughing. “That’s right. You stepped on my feet several times.”
“Don’t remember you caring.” I lifted my chin. “In fact, you were laughing and smiling like you were having the time of your life.”
Her energy shifted then, the humor softening, like a breeze quieting. “I can’t believe we’re talking about that night.”
“We should talk about it.” I took another step closer and cupped her cheek. “We can’t just forget about it.”
“The night that rearranged my life? All the cells in my body and my entire universe?” She huffed. “No chance I’ll ever forget that.” Chin tucked, she wrung her hands, but she eventually looked back up at me. “It was so out of character for me,” she said quietly. “That night. You. I don’t do things like that. I don’t… let go.”
My heart stumbled over itself. “Maybe you didn’t lose control. Maybe you chose me that night.”
“No. It wasn’t like that,” she rushed out. “It was silly, drunken antics.”
“Nope.” I wouldn’t let her dismiss what we shared. If we were talking about this, then we weretalkingabout it. “You think it was random? That I’d never noticed you before that night?” I took a step back, heat prickling up my spine. “For months, you were this calm in the middle of the noise. Always poised and serious and trying so damn hard not to be seen. Made me want to look even harder.”
“You n-noticed me?” The raw vulnerability on her face made me wish I could go back in time and kick the asses of everyone who’d ever made her feel worthless.
“The first time I saw you was in line at Bean There, Sipped That,” I said. “Two years ago, I think. You were wearing this black skirt suit and sky-high heels with red soles. You looked professional yet also sexy and badass.”
A pink flush creeped into her cheeks.
“You should have looked out of place,” I continued. “But you fit right in. Your confidence and your energy were so damn attractive. You seemed to know who you were.”
“While waiting in line for caffeine?” she gasped.
Her confidence that day had drawn me in. And every day after. She marched into the equivalent of an L.L.Bean store in her red-heeled shoes and just kicked ass.
Eventually, I heard the typical town gossip about the newcomer. The new VP of marketing at Sugar Moon. The woman from New York who had all the bright ideas and was knocking everyone dead.
The woman who immediately befriended Frankie Dunne, a Maplewood citizen who hated everyone.
The woman who made this town a tiny bit brighter every day.
She’d bought a craftsman on Spruce Lane and on the occasions that I’d driven by, she always seemed to be out planting flowers, painting a fence, or hanging Christmas lights.
