“I was thinking about taking the silver purse to match the sandals I’m wearing. Keep it sophisticated and simple.”
Marley clicks her tongue. While we used to fight over clothes and makeup when we were younger, I definitely miss having her around to help style an outfit for me. She for sure has the better eye for detail when it comes to fashion.
“I say go for something bold and alluring.”
However, on this occasion, I think better of her advice and reach into the closet, plucking the matching silver bag with diamanté detail from the second shelf.
“Silver purse it is then.”
I’m waiting on Marley’s objection when the beep on an incoming call stops me in my tracks.
Will.
My heart sinks again. This had better not be him canceling at the last minute—or even worse, he’s forgotten about tonight altogether. I’ve only sent him three reminder emails in the pastweek, and none of them have returned Read receipts. Not that I’m overly surprised. His first week as an official NHL player has been incredible—he scored four goals already and made two assists. My best guess is, he’s been celebrating with a new woman in his bed each night.
“It’s Will.” I cut off Marley’s ramble, which I wasn’t listening to anyway. “I have to take the call. Call you back tomorrow?”
With a quick goodbye, I end the call with my sister and rush out a, “Hello?” to Will, although my greeting sounds more like a grumpy accusation.
“Well, good evening to you too,” he sarcastically responds.
For the second time today, I roll my eyes to no one.
“Please tell me that you remembered about tonight,” I drawl, walking toward my bedroom door and pulling it open.
My place is a wreck today, as I opted to slump on the couch with back-to-back mugs of hot chocolate and a chick flick instead of cleaning.
Will sounds mortally wounded when he replies, “Of course I remembered.”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I check the time. My Uber ride will be outside in five minutes.
“And you aren’t canceling either?” I ask, cringing at the thought of him doing just that and Colton’s reaction when my client is a no-show. I know these types of events aren’t Will’s thing. A bunch of speeches and a charity auction will probably bore the shit out of him.
“If standing outside your door, waiting to give you a ride to the venue, constitutes canceling, then, yeah, I’m totally bailing on you at the eleventh hour.”
Apparently, walking in these heels isn’t as hard as I remembered as I stride across my living area and into the entryway, swinging my front door open to reveal a cocky-faced Will on the other side.
He’s dressed in a sleek black tux, black bow tie, and black loafers with exactly the right amount of ankle on show, and he styled his hair back in a way that accentuates his handsome face.
And by the way he braces his free hand on my doorjamb and smirks at me with his phone still to one ear, I just know he’s aware of how devastatingly good-looking he is.
I close my mouth and fold my arms over my chest, tapping my left foot impatiently.
It’s all for show, of course, but there’s no way I’m revealing how his presence alone makes my body react in an entirely inappropriate way.
Will Jones is not your type. He might be easy on the eyes, but he’s the complete opposite of the men you like. As are you for him.
So, why can I feel his eyes all over me as I continue to stand frozen in my doorway?
“Are you going to let me in?” he asks after a few beats of nothing, his voice low and gravelly.
I stand to the side so he can enter my apartment.
Hands in the pockets of his dress pants, Will clears his throat and turns to look at me. Perhaps the way his gaze ascended my body earlier was my imagination. He appears more than composed now.
“I thought that we were meeting at the event?” I say, going to check my left wrist for a watch that doesn’t exist.
He steps toward me, and I take a couple back, keen to maintain distance between us.
