Page 55 of Love You Always

“That’s a lot to expect from an outfit. Maybe I should just wear a sandwich board with instructions.”

“Sure. Like ‘Stare, Drool, Fuck’?”

Tatum has already eaten two croissants, half a bowl of berries, and now the muffin. I haven’t touched a thing, other than the coffee. I’m too nervous to eat, which is silly because Archer and I have already been on plenty of “dates.” They just weren’t planned. Somehow, having a plan makes me feel like I need to prepare, but I’m not sure how. And now I’m wishing I hadn’t brought Tatum into my circle of confusion. She still likes and respects me, but after seeing me go to pieces over outfits, she may decide I’m a mess.

“Might be simpler.”

She brushes croissant crumbs from her sweater into a napkin and crumples it into a ball. Then she stands up and starts rifling through the outfits on the rack. “No. Too formal. Too cutesy. Too slutty…”

“Hey!”

She pulls out the dress in question and holds it against her body. I have to admit the plunging neckline and high slit up one thigh is probably appropriate for any kind of date Archer has planned. “I figure I should have options.”

“Sweetie, if you wear this, the only option will be getting railed within five minutes of walking in the door.”

“Tatum!” My mousy computer nerd of a friend isn’t usually this direct.

“What? I’m not wrong.”

I sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Fine. Not that dress, but I think I need something in case we’re going to a nice dinner later or something.”

She pulls out an ankle-length silk sheath that hugs every curve. “This one. Red lips, a bit of skin, a hint of the curves that lie beneath. It will drive him nuts. More of a tease, less of an overt invitation.”

Nodding at the red dress, I have to admit she’s right.

“Pretty much a sandwich board, after all.”

CHAPTER 27

Archer

At first,I don’t recognize the woman who walks onto the sprawling wood deck at the back of Dash’s house. I look away initially because I’m not about to ogle another woman, even if I’m curious who the woman is who walked confidently out the back door in a fire-engine red dress that’s way too fancy for a backyard shindig.

Then I hear her laugh and my head jerks up, eyes hungry for the woman it belongs to. My heart thunders in anticipation of seeing Ella in that fucking red dress, which I can now see hugs every curve of her body. And she has curves galore. The red dress is like a flag and I’m a goddamn bull.

I put my margarita down on the picnic table in Dash and Mallory’s yard and take long strides toward the deck, feeling the denim pull at my legs, keeping me from getting there as fast as I want to.

She reaches the bottom of the stairs and wobbles in hersandals just when I get there, her hands extending toward me as I hold up my forearm for her to grab. Her fingers sink into the skin of my forearm, and I wrap my other arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. I lean in and inhale the sweet jasmine scent of her perfume and vow to myself that I’ll never let her go.

“I never knew what it meant to take a person’s breath away, but when I saw you in that dress, I forgot to breathe,” I growl against her ear. I feel her shiver and stare down at the goose bumps on her bare arms, wanting to make her feel so much more than chills.

Her cheeks pink up at the compliment, and she leans her head on my shoulder. Her hair is untamed and curly, tickling my cheek as I breathe her in once more. I want to consume her.

I lead her to the table where I was sitting moments ago. “I just met Dash. What a sweetie. And very serious about his tacos,” she says, casting a glance to the deck where Dash mans the barbecue in a green apron that says, “I cook as good as I look.”

“He is indeed serious. The chicken has to be barbecued and hand-shredded, and he makes his own salsa and guacamole.”

“Well, sure. You’ve gotta make those from scratch.”

She’s still gazing in my brother’s direction, so I bring my fingers to her chin and turn her head back toward me, unapologetic about the need to have her looking only at me. “Spoken like a woman who knows her way around a kitchen?”

“Oh, yeah. I can make guac like the best of ‘em, but I won’t divulge my recipe.”

Taking her by the hand, I walk her back toward Dash’s house, where Mallory is in the kitchen putting together a crudité platter. “Wow. These family barbecues don’t lack for food,” Ella says.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing that all of us live on the property because after the amount of food and wine we consume, we can barely waddle to our respective homes. And lucky me, I have the shortest walk,” Mallory says.

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