Page 91 of The Promise Of You

Ihaven’t seen Justin since we set up the tents. He said he’d take care of the equipment with the guys later, and now it’s the night before the fair. At the thought of working next to him all day, I can’t sleep. Did I dream our almost kiss at the cottage? Did I imagine the gentle way he talked me off the ledge, when I freaked out in the pub kitchen? Did I make up the way he looked at me when we set up the other day? Yet he hasn’t reached out for more time together.

I toss and turn all night, and when dawn breaks through my blinds a little after four, I give up.

I’m too ramped up to sleep.

When Justin and I assembled poles and hauled tarps and set up tables, it was hot and messy and fun.

But mostly, it was hot. And yeah, the temperature was hot, but also Justin. The only time I’d seen him break a sweat like that was in our hotel room. Not that I need the visual reminder to think back to those moments, but fresh memories assailed me. His locks of hair matted around his face. His heavy breathing.

His smell.

I clasp my thighs together under the sheets, but that doesn’t help, so I snake a hand down and take care of my needs. If not me, who? Justin hasn’t made a move. It’s like he’s avoiding me.

And I get it. His brother Ethan came back, the one he told me about in Boston. I saw it happen. I saw the look on Justin when that hunk of man slapped his back. Justin was shocked, and elated, and in pain. His carefully constructed universe flying open, and he didn’t know where he fit in it. My heart clenches. If he’d let me in, I could help him. I want to.

He’s the best I’ve ever known.

And damn, the look in his eyes when we were alone in the cottage. His breath on my face—I could almost taste him. I wanted to taste him. And he said as much.

I come with his name on my lips, the tremors a temporary relief.

After a quick shower, I take time blow-drying my hair so it looks real good, and put some effort in my makeup. Then I snatch the summer dress Fiona made me buy last year that I haven’t worn yet.

Fiona said it was sexy as hell and I should buy it.

Which, in the out-of-body experience that shopping with Fiona can be, is why I bought it.

Which is also why I never wore it.

Until today.

“How can I make your day aw—Holy smokes!” Millie exclaims when I walk into Easy Monday minutes later.

“You’re open! Thank god,” I answer, ignoring her comment. I guess I do look hot. Good.

Her mouth gapes. “You look fantastic!”

It’s just us in the shop, so I do a little twirl, the skirt of the dress flying up and around my thighs.

The dress is a cream color with tiny flowers all over. The color looks great with my dark hair and summer tan. But what really looks awesome, and the reason I haven’t had the guts to wear it yet, is the way it cinches my waist and pushes my boobs up.

And then it has those little lacy things at the cleavage that make it look innocent and all. The same lace ribbons are repeated on the shoulder straps, and again at the hem.

Said hem is mid-thigh, and the dress closes with a series of buttons all the way down. “Thank you! I thought I should put in a little effort for the fair.”

“Un-hunh, for the country fair with an ox pulling demo and an ax throwing contest and pigs rolling in mud.”

Right. “I’ll be serving food.” I smile.

She fans herself and rolls her eyes. “Road to Heaven, iced?” She turns around before I answer and busies herself at the coffee machine.

“Please. And…” Should I bring something for Justin?

She smiles over her shoulder. “Double iced espresso? Haven’t seen him this morning.”

My stomach flutters at her question. “Y-yes. Please.”

She sets the two containers on the counter. “He deserves to be happy, after everything that happened to him. You take good care of him, yeah?” There’s something in her eyes that makes me stop, and I want to ask her more.

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