Page 34 of Forever Then

Lauren

Of course. I’ll be up. I want to talk to you.

The pressurein my chest releases. Do I know what I’m going to say to her? Not entirely, but I can’t runfrom it anymore.

I slide my phone into my pocket as Gretchen serpentines through the restaurant on her way back from the restroom.

She stepped out of the bedroom earlier and I almost kissed her. No warning, no context, just damn near swept her into my arms and kissed her. The light pink dress atop her olive-toned skin that hugs every curve from her chest down over her narrow hips and around to her backside had me weak in the knees. The slit that opens over her right lower thigh is far from scandalous, but visions of another dress with a slit that sent my hands sweeping up the bare skin of her leg came to mind and I had to force those thoughts away.

Gretchen strides toward me from across the restaurant, the image of a goddess in perfect form. Her high heels give her legs for days on her five-seven frame.

A simple pair of diamond stud earrings are her only adornment. Even her makeup is simple, the beauty of her natural skin shining through the faint layer of color she’s swept across her cheeks and eyelids. She never tries to hide the light freckles dotting her nose. No fake lashes. No bold lip color.

She’s stunning with so little effort it utterly captivates me.

Gretchen lowers to her seat as she loops her loosely waved hair around to one shoulder, leaving her neck and collarbone on the other side exposed, less the narrow strap of her dress.

A noticeable breath pulls from deep in her chest before she releases it. Dropping the white cloth napkin to her lap, her gaze settles over her place setting before she nervously fidgets with the silverware.

I think she’s hiding something.Drew’s words from earlier slam into me. He’s trusting me to be here for her.

It’s not lost on me that the one person who probably shouldn’t trust me around his sister is the one who’s put all of his trust in me. Meanwhile, the one person I want to trust me the most in the world feels like she’s slipping through my fingers, scared to give me these pieces of herself again because I didn’t tend to them the way I should’ve the last time.

Make her comfortable. Earn back her trust.

“Tell me more about this job,” I say.

Her shoulders relax a bit as she replies, “It’s an Executive Assistant position for one of the Buyers in the shoe department.”

“What exactly does a Buyer do?”

She takes a sip of water as I spin my own glass in my hand. “Buyers decide what items the store is going to carry. It’s a lot of shopping different designer merchandise, testing products and consumer research.”

“And you’d be involved in all that stuff?”

“Mmm,” she says with a shrug. “Yes and no. It’ll be a lot of paperwork and managing orders mostly. But assistants get to test out potential inventory sometimes, so I guess there could be a lot of beautiful shoes in my future.” She smiles and it’s the first moment I sense her guard dropping.

“Did you get to take a lot of inventory home when you worked there last semester?”

She chuckles. “No. I worked for the Buyer in the Men’s Sportswear department. Not much for me to test out. Plus, I was only an intern, so it was mostly grunt work for me.”

The waiter returns to the table and pours us each a glass of white wine. Gretchen eyes the bottle nervously as he leaves it on the table and walks away.

Leaning forward, she whispers, “Did you order this?”

“I did. Do you not like white wine? We can order something different if you want.”

“No, I do. It’s fine. Thank you.” She takes a tentative sip as the tension returns to her body, walls resurrecting, brick by brick.

“Gretchen, just so we’re clear, this meal is on me.”

“No, Connor.Iam paying for dinner. You didn’t ask for any of this and I already planned to pay for it anyway.”

She means that I didn’t ask to be thrown onto a plane with only a few hours’ notice. She assumes that, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here. She’s wrong. But even if she wasn’t, I’d still want to pay for her dinner.

“There’s no way I’m letting you buy me dinner,” I say through a humorless laugh as I peruse the menu.

“What is that?” she says, distaste lacing her words.

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