“I have a strappy black dress that would be perfect for you. It’s not the red one, but it’ll make you feel sexy. It’s got a high slit and barely-there straps across the open back.”
I smile. She’s trying so hard and it’s sweet. “Thanks Poppy. I’m sure it will be perfect.” My hand slips into my purse, grabbing two caramels and holding my hand out to my friend so she can grab one.
“You can always go back for the red one if mine doesn’t work.” She lays her hand on top of mine.
I shouldn’t be this bummed over a dress, but it made me feel more confident than I have in a while. It’s been so long since I have really done anything outside ofBuns & Rosesfor me. This isn’t just about a silly dress—this felt like an opportunity to flaunt my femininity and feel really freaking good about it.
Chapter 3
Gala Night
Present
Chewing slowly on a bite of tart apple, I savor the peace between our morning rush and the crowd that comes in for lunch. I have my AirPods in with Ed Sheeran crooning to keep me focused as I work on payroll. I’m trying to get everything done before this afternoon.
Mikey is going to close up so I can sneak out and get my glam on. After the red dress slipped through my fingers, I splurged on having my hair and make-up done for the gala.
Poppy was right. I deserve to feel sexy, especially since I’ll be surrounded by hunky baseball players and what, I’m sure, will be droves of model-like dates. As I double check the time entry, the front door chimes.
“Hey, Lilah girl, there’s delivery for you, ” Mikey croons when his head peeks around the doorway.
“You can sign for it,” I say, not bothering to take my eyes off the payroll program on the screen.
“Nuh uh. This one’s all you.”
I blow out a breath, trying not to be annoyed. When I step through the doorway to the front of the coffee shop he’s leaning against the counter with the biggest Cheshire cat grin stretched across his face. He wiggles his eyebrows as he tips his head toward the big white box sitting on the counter.
It’s wrapped up with a sleek black bow and there’s a card tucked into it. I give him a puzzled look just as the courier clears her throat.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I stammer, coming around to sign the tablet she holds out. “Have a good day.” I continue to stare at the box as the delivery man leaves.
“Are you going to open it or just look at the dang thing?” Mikey excitedly gestures toward the box.
I slip my finger under the seal on the envelope and pull the small card out. The front simply says:“I’m sorry.”
“What the hell?”
Delilah, You know the saying, “It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission”? This is like that. I hope you aren’t too mad at me or my accomplice. Enjoy your pampering. Can’t wait to see you tonight, Cruz.
“Who’s it from?” Mikey’s rocking back on his heels, looking downright gleeful—like it’s a gift for him.
“Cruz, but if I had to guess, he had help from Poppy. What did those two do?” My fingers work the bow loose and lift the top of the box, revealing a layer of tissue paper. Silky red fabric comes into view and my hand shoots to my mouth covering my gasp.
Tucked in next to the dress is a pair of nude heels with crystal detailing on the wrap-around straps that match the one on the back of the dress. There’s also the most gorgeous, nude YSL clutch I’ve ever seen tucked in the box. Sticking out of it is a case of mints and another note.
Lilah- To keep your breath fresh around all those sexy men tonight. You may not be ready for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t want to kiss your minty lips. Have fun and be nice to Cruz. He just wanted you to feel your best tonight. Love ya, Poppy.
“That dress is everything. You are going to look fine as fuck.” Mikey peeks over my shoulder at the note.
“I really am. I can’t believe they put their heads together to do this.” I’m not even mad that they ignored my wishes. It’s too damn sweet.
I run my hands down the smooth red fabric, watching how the bottom flutters around my red toenails. As my phone vibrates from the dresser, I take one more look at myself in the mirror, turning to see the back. Heat creeps up my neck and I fan my face to keep it from ruining my makeup. I had to get creative with my undergarments—namely, not wearing any. The back of this dress made that impossible.
I snag my phone, slipping it into the clutch and I apply a fresh coat of, what Poppy called, “fuck me” red on my lips. There’s a knock at the door as I cap the lipstick. When I pull the door open, air whooshes out of my lungs at the sight.
Cruz is leaning with his forearm against the doorframe, his dark curls tumbling over his forehead where it is swept to the side. He’s dressed in crisp black on black and it looks impeccable, from the way the tailored fit hugs his broad shoulders to how the satin finish looks against his caramel skin tone.
A devilish smirk plays at his lips as his gaze roams over me slowly. “Fuck, Hermosa. You look more stunning than I could have ever imagined,” he says, straightening the matching, black tie that hangs down his broad chest.
