Page 20 of Pursued By My Grumpy Fiancé
“No, I’m okay.” She says as I grab her shoulder to steady her.
I close the door behind her and guide her to the front door of her building.
“I’ll be okay from here,” she insists, shimmying her shoulder away from my touch.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just rough at wake-up time.” She smiles and sticks her hand out. “See you later?”
I wrap her in a hug and move my mouth down to her ear to whisper into it.
“A hug for my fiancée,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and heads into the building. I watch her for a moment before returning to my car.
Chapter Ten
Hailey
I’msittinginmypajamas on the couch in my apartment. I should be studying for my criminal procedure exam. I was way too hungover yesterday to even think about going to the exam prep session. It took almost all of my energy to even get up the stairs after Landon dropped me off yesterday. I crashed on the couch and woke up here.
I sigh and reach into my backpack for my textbook. I guess I need to get started. I’m really going to regret it if I don’t get some studying in.
Brrrrrrring.
I’m interrupted by the doorbell. I have no idea who on earth that could be, seeing as how Emma is out of town and I don’t really have a lot of friends. I swing open the front door to find nothing but a long narrow box at my doorstep. I lean my head out and look both ways, but spot no one. Weird. I pick up the box and bring it inside.
I take the lid off the box, and laying on top of a bunch of tissue paper is a note with my name penned in cursive. I grab the note and read the contents.
Be ready in thirty minutes. Wear this.
I immediately understand that this is from Landon, despite his name not being signed.
After a moment, it dawns on me that I am unshowered and in my robe still. I spring into action, jumping in the shower for a quick 5-minute wash. It’s a good thing that my body hair doesn’t grow fast.
I hop out and wrap the towel around me. I plug in my blow dryer brush and run it through my hair. It truly is a miracle hair tool, seeing as how I have gorgeous loose curls in no less than ten minutes. I check my phone and panic, knowing that I only have fifteen minutes. This last-minute stuff is so not cool.
I spend a few minutes putting on lotion and deodorant before I grab my makeup bag and sort my face out. I dab bits of concealer on my dark circles and blemishes. Even though I’d love to go full glam, I just don’t have the time. I swipe a shimmery champagne color on my lids and mascara my lashes. I check the time on my phone—five minutes.
I race to my room to put undergarments on, then to the living room to take a peek at the dress that Landon sent me. I move away the tissue paper and am blown away by what I see.
It’s a shimmery, deep-blue satin, cowl-neck dress with thin straps. I lift it out of the box tenderly and discover a tall leg slit as well. It is simply gorgeous—and I think I have just the shoes to match. I slip on the dress and admire the coolness of the fabric on my skin. I own some nice things, some designer dresses that I’ve managed to find at the thrift stores. But this is luxury. This is the kind of dress that I could’ve only dreamed of wearing only a week ago.
I zoom over to my closet and pick up a pair of strappy silver heels. I’m in the middle of putting the first one on when the doorbell rings.
“Oh jeez—just a minute!” I shout, hoping that he can hear me from within my closet. The doorbell sounds again.
I hop into the living room, attempting to strap the other heel on my foot when Landon’s impatience gets the better of him and he opens the door. He strolls in my apartment like he’s been here a million times. He stops in front of me and looks me up and down.
I fight the urge to do the same. He looks incredible in a fitted, light gray suit that hugs him in all the right places. His tie matches my dress, subtly announcing to anyone who looks at us that we are together.
“Very nice. It fits you perfectly,” he says, and I can see the lust in his eyes.
I hope he remembers my no sex rule.
I finally buckle the heel and put my foot back on the ground.
“You,” I say, stabbing him in the chest with a finger, “are despicable! What kind of monster leaves a woman with only thirty minutes to get ready?”
