Page 20 of If You Stayed

“Do you think they have a good sex life?” Ramona asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“What?”

“Henry and his wife.”

“Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I’m just saying, he’s brilliant and I’m curious if he’s brilliant in all areas of his life.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about our clients’ sex lives,” I muttered.

“I wonder if he uses sex toys that he’s invented on her. To test out prototypes. Henry told me he was coming out with a line of robotic toys.”

For the love of…

Did she really speak to Henry Hughes about sex toys?

That rubbed me wrong in every way possible. How unprofessional could Ramona get? She was too grown-up to be acting so inappropriately.

I gripped the steering wheel. “Perhaps we should hold off on conversations about sex toys with clients,” I said, echoing my previous words.

I saw her smug smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Why? Are you jealous?”

I didn’t say another word.

She grumbled to herself and turned her back toward me. It was clear that she was irritated that I was back to being her grumpy ol’ boss man again, but I didn’t mind. Honestly, I couldn’t have been happier when I pulled up to her apartment building. She climbed out of the car, still not looking back at me.

“Drink some water,” I told her.

She turned around on her heels and flipped me off. “Bite me, Gabriel.”

I’d rather not.Biting her was exactly what led us to this uncomfortable exchange.

“See you in the morning at the office,” I said.

“I’m going to be late,” she promised.

I had no doubt she’d keep that promise, too.

After driving off from her place, I headed back home with my mind spinning with images of Kierra. I didn’t know why I still hadn’t been able to kick the idea of her from my mind. I could still see her smile lines and full, plump lips at the forefront of my thoughts.

As I walked into my house, I was greeted by my German shepherd, Bentley, who always welcomed me home with the utmost excitement. Then he followed me around like a shadow. I headed straight for my office and pulled out my sketchbook, then sat down with only the dim glow of my desk lamp lighting the paper in front of me. Bentley lay right at my feet.

Whenever my mind was too busy with images, I’d sketch them out. I’d been doing it for as long as I could remember. Sketching was an outlet for me. Most of the framed drawings in my home were made from snapshots of moments in my mind.

Therefore, instead of sleeping, I sketched Kierra Hughes from memory.

Her long, toned legs.

Her high cheekbones.

Her slicked-black ponytail.

I drew her laughing because that was how she seemed to live within my mind. She radiated a kind of beauty that I’d thought only existed within my dreams. She seemed so damn nice, too. Sincere. As if she truly wanted to make sure everyone was enjoying their time. Henry seemed to be the opposite of his wife. Where he’d loved to show off his own talents, Kierra preferred to hear about others.

I stayed up way too late drawing Kierra Hughes in my book of sketches. When I headed to bed, it was almost three in the morning. That wasn’t shocking, though. I didn’t sleep much. I was equal parts a night owl and a morning person. Which meant more than half the time I was running on coffee and prayers.

As I lay in bed, all I could think about was that I couldn’t wait until Monday. For better or worse, I’d be at Florence Bakery, waiting for a cinnamon muffin and Kierra Hughes.

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