Page 40 of The Thought of You

She squints. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I answer, as sober as a minister. I might’ve thought I was headed down a drunken path with my flask of whiskey before she arrived, but one look at her was enough to make me fucking sober.

I shift to my other foot, bearing most of my weight onto my good knee. “This dress is…” My throat thickens as I finally drag my gaze away from her hypnotizing eyes and rake it over her deep blue dress. It fits her perfect figure like a glove, and her feminine perfume transports me to a field of roses. “You look… majestic.”

“That’s how I’d describe a horse, but okay. Thank you.” She smooths one hand over her waist, then turns this way and that before waltzing away, the high-vaulted ceiling hovering over us. She stops a few feet away and whirls around. “For future reference, giving a woman a classic compliment like nice or pretty is perfectly sufficient.”

I manage to nod.

And I’m left alone with my racing pulse and the unobstructed view of her ass as she disappears into the courtyard. The hem of her dress sashays from side to side, teasingly rising up her legs with each step, torturing me.

Her hair is especially shiny tonight, and while we talked, the way the light caught the auburn tint of her strands mesmerized me. Not to mention the fucking freckles peppering her cheeks. They were still visible even with her makeup, like the few stars across the sky through the windows. It’s daylight, but they’re still visible among the scattered clouds.

Admittedly, Addie is right about a lot of things, but she’s wrong about the kind of compliment she deserves. The classics might be fine for any other woman, but they’re not enough for her. They’re too boring to adequately describe her.

This confusing, sexy woman deserves all the compliments under the sun and beyond.

My pulse spikes as I exit the house for some air. My skin is heated like I’m too close to a fire.

In the courtyard, Addie sidles up next to Maren, and I glimpse Addie’s blue eyes yet again.

They’re light and clear and familiar, and it’s not because I’ve known Addie my whole life. It’s because the color of her eyes matches the shade of blue of the sky from the day I was recruited. I’d lain back on the pitcher’s mound, alone with the dirt beneath me and the rest of the world buzzing by, and I knew my life was forever changed.

As I continue staring at Addie, the same feeling slams into me and knocks the breath from my lungs.

chapter

twelve

ADDIE

“It didn’t rain, and the shrimp delivery wasn’t late,” I proudly announce to my friends.

Maren holds her flute of champagne up with one hand, while the other remains clasped around a martini glass of shrimp cocktail. “Cheers.”

Caroline and I clink our flutes against hers, then sip in sync.

“Are you sharing the shrimp, or is it like Addie’s Skittles, which are never to be touched?” Caroline teases.

“I have one rule,” I say with a shrug.

Maren coughs into her glass like she nearly choked on her sip. “Are you kidding? You have too many rules to count.” She hooks her thumb over at me and tells Caroline, “This one avoids first-date kisses, although lately, she’s been avoiding dates altogether.”

“You’re one to talk,” I shoot back.

“And she still makes a wish and blows kisses to the clock at 3:33 every afternoon.”

I hold a finger up. “That’s not technically a rule. It’s just tradition.”

The crease between Caroline’s brows smooths free as understanding visibly dawns. “Is that because of the time you found that half-dollar in front of Quinton’s, and they offered you a free banana split because you were their hundredth customer for the month?”

“I’m surprised you believe in something so woo-woo.” Maren punctuates her comment by ripping a piece of shrimp in half with her teeth.

“It’s not woo-woo; it’s sentimental. Big difference.” I sip from my champagne. “It was the afternoon the three of us swore to be friends forever. We made a sacred vow with our hands on that very coin. And it’s held us together for twenty-plus years.”

“You’re going to make me cry.” Caroline clutches her chest. “How am I supposed to go back to the city now?”

“You can’t,” I chirp. “You must stay here forever. I know a certain flannel-wearing grump who’d be perfectly happy if you stayed.”

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