Why I never meant for her to get so close in the first place. I've held people at bay all of my adult life. Told myself it was smart. Sensible. That I didn't have time or energy to give to anyone else.
Women came and went, all believing I was too afraid and too damaged to know my own heart.
All but one.
"No pajamas," I say, when she comes out of her bathroom wearing only a towel and walking straight for the top drawer of her dresser.
Do I know it's her underwear and sleep stuff drawer? Yeah.
Should I? Fuck no.
But I use the laundry room in the house too, and sometimes her things get left in the dryer.
And instead of throwing them in a basket and leaving them as one more thing for her to do around here, I fold the clothes and put them away.
The fact she's yet to figure out I do this probably once or twice a month, only proves the fact she's doing more than she cankeep track of, trying to keep the house, the kids, and her business going.
As does the fact, she walked right past where I'm sitting on the edge of her bed in plain view, mind too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" she snaps, clutching her towel to her chest as she spins around.
"Making sure you don't put on sweats and a tank top," I tell her, pushing up to walk toward her.
"Excuse me?" she glowers at me but doesn't move from her spot at the dresser.
"You heard me," I tell her, smirking as I hold out a pair of jeans and a lacey little number in sage green. "Here. I had some time to peruse your closet while you were in the shower."
Her eyes zero in on the sexy top. "Let's set aside the creep factor that comes with you letting yourself into my room to go through my things while I'm naked in the next room and unaware of your close and uninvited proximity," she says, "and move on to why the hell you're attempting to deny me pajamas. I don't need to dress up for pizza night with Holly and the kids."
"True," I grin at her, waving the clothes in front of her as if that might entice her to take them. "But you do need to dress up for me."
She crosses her arms. "No one invited you to pizza night."
I nod. "Yeah. We'll address how I'm going to start coming to those later. Right now, you need to get dressed." I toss the clothes at her, forcing her to catch them.
"Why?"
I smirk, backing up toward the door. "Because you're coming to work with me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LIZ
"What?" I splutter. "That isnothappening."
"Yeah, it is." He grips the handle, opening the door to let himself out. "I'm calling a meeting. We haven't had one yet this week and Holly already agreed to watch the kids, so you can't say no."
The door falls shut behind him before I can argue. Not that I'm sure I could. Holly showing up threw off our regular schedule. I didn't think it'd be a big deal to him to miss our regular check-in. Apparently, I was wrong. Especially since he's going so far as to squeeze it in alongside his other work responsibilities.
Annoyed, I give up the soft sweatpants I was reaching for and dig around for a pair of panties and bra instead. It takes me a minute to find a matching set. Why I feel the need to make sure the two go together isn't something I'm looking too closely at. Because it's not like anyone will see them. Right?
Shaking my head, I blame my frazzled idiocy on the stupid shirt Jovi chose. I bought it two years ago. And never wore it out.
Not because I didn't have the balls to like Holly always teases. The thing is damn near see-through, low cut and sits so high on my stomach it leaves my belly button exposed. But I lovethe way I feel wearing it. Feminine. Soft. Sexy. All the things I built my business around but never seem to find for myself.
That's the real reason I haven't worn it beyond trying it on. Haven't felt like there was a good enough occasion to.
Some silly, fairy tale addled part of my brain thought that if I bought the top, maybe the perfect romantic date would come. But I got the shirt, kept it hanging front and center, where I could stare at it day after day, always have it ready to go for when the moment came, until eventually, a hanger landed in front of it. And then another. And another. Until all the practical clothes I wear on the daily made their way up front and the lacy sage dream wound up buried in the back. And stayed there even after the move.
