Page 44 of The Boyfriend Material Novellas

“Lucky for me.”

“Yes, it’s totally her weakness.”

For a dangerous second, my heart beats faster.

But I tell it to settle down.

It won’t be her.

Instead, I scan the lingerie on the shelves, my mind ever so helpfully assembling an image of a svelte blonde in one. A lithe brunette. A pretty redhead.

Nameless women. Faceless women. Never her.

As I wander past a shelf of satin shorts, the scent of lavender drifts into my nose, reminding me of gardens in Paris.

Another memory best forgotten.

After today, I will banish all of them and kick this pointless quest to the curb.

I snap my gaze away from the pretty items, my eyes returning to Peyton, who has her hand on the arm of her store manager.

I can’t see the other woman’s face.

But then she rounds the corner as Peyton says to her, “I have someone I want you to meet.”

The store manager steps forward, and I am swept back in time.

Brown hair, brown eyes, a smile for days, and dimples.Those dimples.I swear I’m seeing things. Seeing her.

Someone I never thought I’d see again.

Someone I’ve desperately wanted to see again.

And I made a promise that if I ever did, I’d do everything different.

Her eyes lock with mine, and I see that day flash across her irises too.

“It’s you?” I ask. Then it’s no longer a question. It’s a statement. “It’s really you.”

2

MARLEY

Paris

Nearly three years ago

I’m not afraid of many things.

Spicy food? Bring it on.

Horror movies? I can handle them.

Camping, hiking, biking, and pitching a tent? Not a problem.

But heights?

Who invented heights?

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