Page 29

I stepped over the rejected shoes and opened it. Leanne stood there, coffee in hand, grin already locked and loaded.

She looked me up and down. “Oh.”

My stomach plummeted. “Bad oh or good oh?”

“Good oh. Dangerously good.” She slipped inside. “Nervous?”

“Only because it’s Richard Kincaid. Preston University’s most sought after golden boy.”

Leanne’s smile widened. “And yet he asked you out.”

“He asked me to a gallery.”

“Exactly. Not some sticky-floored sports bar. The man has taste.” She followed me into the bedroom. “He paid attention, Sam. That’s rare.”

I laughed despite the nerves twisting in my gut. “I still can’t believe he noticed me back then. I was the girl with charcoal smudges on my sleeves and paint under my nails.”

“And now you’re the woman he wants alone in a gallery after hours.” Leanne leaned against my dresser, eyes sparkling. “Big upgrade from the guy who couldn’t pronounce Van Gogh and then explained that art was mostly just ‘fruit and boobs.’”

“Please never remind me of him again.” I sat on the bed and wrestled with my heel strap.

She dropped beside me. “You don’t have to perform for him. Just be you—the woman who makes a man like Richard Kincaid ask you out.”

Another knock. My pulse spiked.

Leanne stood. “Showtime.”

I grabbed my coat. She spun her finger. “Twirl.”

I obeyed. She gave an approving nod. “You look like a supermodel. The good kind.”

I opened the door.

Richard filled the frame with his commanding presence. He wore a black coat draped over a tailored charcoal suit, the white shirt beneath it unbuttoned to reveal a teasing glimpse of skin. His dark hair was combed back in effortless waves, as if he had rolled straight out of bed looking unfairly perfect.

“Good evening, Samantha.”

“Hello—Hi.”

Brilliant. Fucking brilliant Sam.

His mouth curved, that subtle, knowing smile that made my stomach flip. “You look beautiful. That dress looks amazing on you.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. I wasn’t used to this, getting flustered over a compliment. I didn’t do flustered. “Thank you. You look very good… I mean nice.”

What the fuck Sam? Get it together!

He chuckled, “I try.” He stepped inside just enough to hand me a small bouquet of white roses. “These reminded me of you.”

I took them, my fingers slightly brushing his. “Thank you.”

Leanne appeared behind me. “These are gorgeous. I’m Leanne—the best friend who will be demanding full details later.”

Richard’s smile deepened, amused. “Only fair. Nice to meet you again.”

Leanne smiled. “Take her before she overthinks. And Sam—call me later tonight okay.”

I shoved the roses at her. “Okay. Water. Now. We’re leaving.”