Page 15 of Imperfectly Perfect

She wouldn’t ever repeat her parent’s mistakes.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Fallon asked. She certainly was. It wasn’t like she had much of a life anyway. And now she knew that she needed an extra twenty-four hours to whip herself into shape before she could sit across a table from Savannah and keep herself in check.

“Y-yeah.” Savannah stared down at the phone number. “Do you want me to just text you?”

“Why else would I have given you my number?” Fallon’s lips twitched. She’d really thrown Savannah off her game, hadn’t she? “I’ll see you tomorrow, Savannah.”

Standing up, Fallon walked around her desk to her chair. Just putting that small amount of space between them was exactly what she needed. Her body cooled back down, her chest loosened a bit, and her mind was quieted—slightly.

“Then I’ll let you know.” Savannah’s lips were back into the patented smile she had. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As Savannah walked for the door, Fallon snagged the round of cheese from her desk, sliding her fingers over the plastic. But her eyes were locked on Savannah. The way her wide hips moved from side to side, her short legs as they carried her, her blonde hair as it sat at her shoulders and swayed with her movement.

When Fallon turned back to her computer screen, she had a smile on her face, one that felt natural and right.

When was the last time she had done that?

six

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Savannah smoothed the fabric of the black dress along her curves as she stood in front of the restaurant door and stared at it. She had easily put on thirty pounds since her divorce, eating her worries and frustrations, but what did that even matter? Why was she dressing up? Why was she acting like this was a date?

This. Isn’t. A. Date.

She had to keep reminding herself of that.

Except it felt like a date. Those same nerves were bubbling in her stomach, the same fear or worry that she would do or say something wrong—again—came right back up into her throat and threatened to make her spew all over her black strappy heels. The same frustrations that she wasn’t good enough were already working overtime in her brain, and those only ever appeared when it had something to do with romantic relationships.

Fuck, her ex had done a number on her.

“And this isn’t a date,” she muttered to herself.

Holding her clutch tightly with one hand, Savannah pushed open the door with the other. Fallon had already texted that she was there, which meant Savannah was late, even though she wasearly. It meant that Fallon had waited for her when she shouldn’t have had to do that.

Fallon stood toward the edge of the front area, her legs deliciously poised, her strong calf muscles peeking out from under the edge of her dress, the heels she wore raising her up another couple inches at least. Savannah gulped.

This isn’t a date.

But for some reason, she really wanted it to be one. She wanted to know what Fallon would be like if they were actually trying to get to know each other for that purpose, if they were pining away after each other. Would Fallon flirt? Savannah wasn’t quite sure she could imagine that.

Fallon would be couth, calm, always in charge of whatever her reactions would be. She had been so far—well, outside of the cemetery, but that was because Savannah had taken her completely off guard. And even then, Fallon had been hard to read.

“Hey there,” Savannah said, her voice choking on the words. She cleared her throat as quietly as she could.

“Evening,” Fallon answered, her voice dropping before rising. She dropped her gaze down Savannah’s body and slowly trailed it back up before meeting Savannah’s eyes.

Gulping, Savannah took back everything she had thought before. Fallon would be forward as fuck if they were dating. There was no doubt of that now. Stepping up to the host, Savannah let them know her name for the reservation and that they were both there. Immediately, they were brought to the table.

With drinks ordered—wine for Fallon and a mixed drink for Savannah—they settled into their seats and stared awkwardly at the menus. What the hell were they supposed to talk about? Savannah hadn’t planned this out well enough at all. She should have thought this through more. They didn’t know each other.They didn’t have things in common. At least not as far as she was concerned. Fallon simply worked for the lawyer that Savannah had hired, and they’d met awkwardly at the cemetery when Savannah had crashed—

“Are we going to stare at each other all night or actually converse?”

Fuck, Fallon was right. Savannah really needed to pull herself together. “I suppose I’m struggling for a topic.”

“Of conversation?” Fallon raised an eyebrow as she picked up her glass of wine. “How about when you’ll try your next wine?”

Savannah wrinkled her nose before she could stop it. Fallon’s lips curled upward into a smile as she grinned broadly.

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