Page 20 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Regan comes near and looks over my shoulder. She reads the title. “How to Keep the Magic Alive: Tricks to a long and happy marriage.” She laughs, and this time I join her. Because, come on, the irony.

I put the book back in its place. “I didn’t come here for a book.”

Her gaze travels from my emerald-green tie down to my Ferragamo shoes. “Iknowyou didn’t come for the clothes. So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

She goes over to Rose’s two bags, upends one, dumps it on the floor, and starts rifling through it.

“A do-over.” I stride toward her with determination. “I want one.”

Her eyes snap up to mine, surprise swimming in her baby blues. “A do-over?”

I shrug. “In case you didn’t notice, I may have been a little drunk. And being that it was my first and only one-night stand, Ithink I deserve to be able to remember it. So, yeah, I’d like a do-over.”

“You’re crazy, Lucas Montana.”

She goes back to sorting through clothes as if I haven’t just propositioned her with my cock.

“Regan, I’m serious.”

She plops down in the middle of the clothes, her long sweater riding up enough so I can see the thick curve of her thigh. “You want to sleep with me again just so you canrememberit? Lucas, that’s not how one-night stands work. Look it up.”

As if I weren’t even here, she holds up a blouse, regarding it.

I swipe it from her. “Can we please have a conversation?”

She nods to the pile of clothes surrounding her. “Take a seat, soldier, and help a girl out.”

Glancing around me and not seeing a chair, I get that she means sit on the ground. Okay then. I give myself some slack in the front of my dress pants so they don’t tear at the seams, and then lower myself, grateful I’m wearing dark pants and not light ones. “What do you want me to do?”

She shoves a pile at me—the one that’s not Rose’s clothes. “Look for anything with holes.”

I grab a pair of leisure pants and stick my hand through them from waist to cuff, wiggling my fingers out the end. “You mean like this?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She examines them and sticks a finger through a worn hole in the knee. “I was referring tothiskind of hole, you kook. Toss these in my donation pile.” She gestures over her shoulder. “There. And anything from a discount or big box store goes there too. I only sell designer or one-of-a-kind clothes here. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh,I’mthe kook,” I say, letting my eyes wander her leotard.

“Dude, you’re the one who came back for seconds.”

“So speaking of that…”

“You know,” she says matter-of-factly, “if we did it again, technically it wouldn’t be a one-night stand.”

I examine a shirt, thinking it’s okay, so I fold it neatly and put it in her pile. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

She looks up at me. “I already did.”

I nod. “Yeah, me too. But just Blake. I mean I won’t tell anyone else, and not about the repeat.”

“The repeat.” The words come out of her mouth like she’s trying them on for size.

“So, what do you say, Lucas?”

I love the way her mouth twitches when I call her by her last name.

Her eyes widen like dinner plates. “What… like,now?”

“Of course not now. Saturday.”

---