Page 9 of Redeemed in Crimson
Allie got in on the fun once we realized it was only books and no murderers in the box. By the time we reached the bottom, we were surrounded by fifty books. They were all either from my online to-be-read list or the notes app on my phone, plus editions I had in my hands at one point or another in the bookstore. The only one I had never seen before looked intriguing, with a tall, dark biker on the cover. Not a genre I would usually choose, but my mind flashed back to my dream the night before, and I decided to read this one next. Assuring Allie that I had no idea who ordered all these books for me, we agreed to keep our eyes peeled for anything else and went to bed.
The following morning, I lazed about and slept in, only for another package to arrive containing an assortment of pretty pens and notebooks I had added to my online cart just the night before. I immediately opened the app to see if I was now sleep-ordering things, because really, Sloane? But there were no recent orders, and all these items were deleted from my cart.
Okay, weird, but thanks, I guess, creepy fairy godmother.
I had just settled in to organize my new items on my desk when a knock on the door revealed food delivery for Allie and me from our favorite Sunday brunch place, including mimosa supplies.Is that even legal? To-go mimosas?
Finally, the school week started, and I assumed things would go back to normal. But instead, I kept getting lucky parking spots. My coffee was paid for by the time I finished ordering every day, even when I went to different coffee shops.Packages of things I either wanted or needed kept showing up, seemingly ordered by my very observant fairy godmother. I knew at this point it wasn't Dean, because he would absolutely be bragging nonstop about how thoughtful he was and how much credit he deserved. I decided to just bask in my luck and enjoy it while it lasted.
Now, it's already Thursday, and time to attend rehearsal. I'm kind of excited. Maybe nervous? Blanche has been nothing but nice, and her stories already have me wanting to ask her more questions about her life. And knowing Ledger will be there, well… I'm not sure if I really have the time to unpack those feelings right now.
I prepare myself for what I assume will be a couple of hours of boredom, but as soon as I walk in, I realize I have severely underestimated Blanche Sinclair.
The church hall has been transformed with professional lighting, and all the volunteers have begun picking up their script packets and moving into color-coded groups. Moving to the table at the front, where all the scripts are organized alphabetically by last name, I find mine and see that I'm in the pink group.
My lucky week continues.
Based on the map of the rehearsal space that Blanche has included, group pink is actually meeting in the…nursery? I make my way out of the noisy, crowded hall and down a back hallway. It appears the pink group will be the only ones meeting in this wing, and I'm the first one here.
The darling nursery is decorated in all pastel hues and has a fresh, clean scent, with a lingering aroma that tells me it's for the littlest babies. I walk over to one of the cribs lining the wall and see that someone has prepared it for the next time this room is in use.
A tiny onesie is lying in the crib, and I pick it up to get a closer look, smiling when I see it's covered in a tiny motorcycle print. Just as I'm considering how often motorcycles seem to be popping up in my life lately, the door to the nursery opens, and I turn to see…Ledger? Ledger is in group pink?And currently staring at me with a look as if he wants to…eat me? Tackle me? Tie me up and hide me in his troll cave?
Ledger slowly closes the door behind him, stepping farther into the room. “Sloane, hi.Is that for our baby?”
He's staring at me, and I realize I’m still holding this onesie and gawking at him like a crazy person. But we're alone in this room, and it feels like he’s taking up so much of it. Was he this huge when I met him? I feel like my dream didn't do him justice.
He's holding a motorcycle helmet. Oh my God, does he have a motorcycle? Do they make motorcycles that big?
I realize he's now close enough to smell, and he smellsso good.Fresh and manly, with the leather of his jacket and a hint of cologne that has me salivating. I realize, far too late, that I can smell him so clearly because he's approached slowly and has bent down to my eye level.
His hair is damp, as if he's just showered before coming here, with a curl falling across his forehead. We lock eyes, and hereaches for me, gently placing his forefinger under my chin to close my mouth, which has been hanging open this entire time.
My mouth now firmly closed, his eyes are still on mine as he brushes the thumb of the hand still cupping my chin across my bottom lip. His eyes track his own movement before he realizes how close he is and stands up to take a step back. “Are you okay?”
I finally come to my senses, and I'm able to squeak out, “Did you just ask me if this was for our baby?” I place the onesie back in the crib and clear my throat.
I turn around, and really, at this point, someone just needs to spray me with a water bottle before I climb this man like a tree. He places his helmet on a side table and takes his leather jacket off, revealing black tattoos that I'd only had glimpses of extending the entire lengths of both arms.
He's rubbing the back of his neck and has the decency to look a little sheepish, but all I can see is how the movement makes his bicep flex and how the thick veins running under his forearm pop. “I'm sorry, I meant to think that, not say it out loud.”
My eyes snap back to his in time to see him wink at me, and I'm about to offer my womb to him on a platter when he continues, “I think we might have my mom to thank for this lovely setting.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, already planning the best way to covertly send Blanche the world’s biggest fruit basket as a massive thanks for forcing her son into my proximity.
Ledger sits on one of the rocking chairs in the corner and stretches his boot-clad legs out in front of him, taking up even more of the room somehow. “Well, I'm not sure if you'veopened your script yet, but it looks like she's gone a little avant-garde this year with the play.”
I quickly grab my packet, scan the script, and blush furiously as I realize what Blanche has done.
“So we…?” I start to say.
“Are a group of exactly two, and have all of our scenes in the play consisting of just the two of us?” he finishes. “Yes. It seems my mother has re-imagined certain aspects of the story, including a contemplative Lucifer discussing some of the more philosophical points of Christmas with an un-fallen angel.”
Chapter six
Sloane is doing the super-cute thing where she blankly stares at me again, and Ithinkthis is in my favor. Ithinkit means she's thinking about all the time we’re going to spend secluded and alone working on this play, and Ithinkshe likes the idea.
“Angel?” I say, enjoying the fact that her eyes immediately meet mine.She already knows her nickname. What a good girl.“Are you okay?”
