“Of course, Julia. You’ve gotta do what you need to do. But please let me know if you change your mind. As a photographer, I can tell you have a great eye for video composition. Your talent alone could help turn Amantha’s exhibition into a large-scale event.”
Her dark blue eyes shine like a midnight ocean. “You really think so?”
“Really, I do. And of course we wouldn’t ask you to shirk your duties at Autumn & June, but if your friend Hannah is worried about cash flow, the budget we’re willing to pay might help.”
This gives Julia pause. She toes the cement with her running shoe.
“If it weren’t for Hannah, I’d say yes right now. But we agreed to co-own the boutique, so both of us are at risk if it fails. It’s not fair of me to take this job without running it past her. But…” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “The extra cashcouldcushion us through next quarter.”
Hope flutters inside me like the snowflakes beginning to fall.
She gives a frustrated sort of chuckle. “Long story short, I can’t say yes, but I’m not saying no. Can I call you later tonight to tell you my decision?”
“Of course!” I scramble to give her my number. “Take all the time you need. Call or text anytime. I’ll be free tonight?—”
No I won’t. I apparently have a date with a phone contact who I tipsy-named “My Future Blacksmith.” It took me a hot minute to remember why in the world I would name someone that, but once I remembered, I made a mental note to never pick up one of Liza’s books again.
I blow out a long breath in front of Julia. “Well, I have plans tonight, but I’ll make sure to answer your call.”
Julia gathers me into a hug before saying goodbye. I hope the determined sparkle in her eyes is a good sign, but I caution myself that I’m still getting to know her.
We say goodbye, and my mind returns to Tanner as I walk back to Pulse. Even though texting him back last night was definitely the Prosecco’s decision, I’m oddly…happy about it? Maybe happy isn’t the right word. Content, maybe? I don’t think I would have ever pulled that veritable trigger on my own.
And what if he is, in fact, my future blacksmith?
Iarrive home to find a bouquet of twelve long-stemmed red roses on my doorstep. I scan the floral shop’s attached artisan message tag.
Tonight, hopefully neither of us will get Vivian Rochester-Chenned. Wear something black-tie appropriate. I pulled some strings and can’t wait to surprise you with where we’re going. Pick you up at seven. —Tanner
I reach out and flick the paper, trying to bury a memory of a craft store price tag on a hideous branch of plastic cherry blossoms.Thesegorgeous roses are what I deserve. What an orchardess would want, maybe?
I may have to read Liza’s stupid romance book to figure that out.
And since Tanner was thoughtful enough to tell me about therequired attire and definitely doesn’t drive a motorcycle, I’m going to dress to the nines.
At ten minutes to seven, I slink in front of the floor length mirror to assess my work. My black hair is slicked back into a gleaming chignon on the nape of my neck. The floor length gown I’m wearing is the color of melted chocolate, silk dripping over my abdomen and ruching on my hip. The tiny straps above the “V” neckline are feather-light, and the thigh-high slit in the gown makes me feel like if I needed to kick someone in the face, I could.
My doorbell rings, and I sweep open the door. Tanner blinks a few times, then breaks into a grin.
“Wow…Sorry. I should probably come up with something better to say than wow, but.. wow.” Tanner’s hazel eyes look more brown than green against his black tuxedo as they skim over me. “You look gorgeous, Kate.”
I summon my inner orchardess and give a gracious smile. “Thanks, Tanner. You look great too.” And hedoes. I don’t even have to lie. The whole square jaw and light blonde hair thing is giving 007, and I have the urge to ask if it actually tastes different if it’s shaken, not stirred.
The poor guy can’t take his eyes off me, but the attention feels… I don’t know, kind of nice? It’s been alongtime since I’ve started out on a first date with the intent of having a second one. Maybe with time, the butterflies will come too.
“Are you gonna be cold in that?” he asks.
“Oh. Yeah, probably. Hang on.” I retrieve my long cream overcoat from the closet and walk to the door as I try to thread my arm through the sleeve.
“Here.” Tanner steps inside, takes my coat, and holds it open while I slide my arms into it. His hand grazes the skin on my neck just above the collar, and I register the heat of his touch, but nothing flutters. Nothing even moves.
It’s like my stupid butterflies are faking dead until tattoos and zero reliability pull up on a motorcycle—andthenthey’ll go feral.
Screw the butterflies.
Tonight,I’mcalling the shots. I am attracted to Tanner Evans. Tonight will be a fabulous date, and tomorrow we’ll be riding off into the orchard, regardless of my non-impressive amount of cleavage.
“Oh mygosh. I didn’t know they actually let people do this! I thought it was just in the movies,” I say. My wide eyes are likely creeping out the innocent restaurant staff as Tanner escorts me through La Dolce Vino’s private kitchen entrance, but I can’t help it.
