“Is next Saturday good for you?”
She nods, her hair brushing across my neck. “Pretty sure I’m wide open.”
“Not yet, but you will be soon.”
Healing Hug #21: Two broken pieces sliding into place for a perfect fit.
The zipper on my knee-high boots glides up without a hitch. I straighten and dust imaginary lint off my clothes. Once again, I’m appraising my appearance for an evening of unknowns. I’ve ditched the sparkle explosion dress for ripped black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. My wavy hair is knit in a messy braid. A light dusting of makeup highlights my best features. Simple and chic.
Crawford didn’t give me much guidance on what to wear, or our plan in general. It doesn’t take a genius to assume he’s picking me up on his bike. A quick downward glance confirms I’m prepared for the ride. On the surface, at least.
Mentally, I’m not a shining example of confidence. My mind is more conflicted than opposing sides in an epic battle. Warring thoughts aren’t my only problem. Twists the size of a jumbo pretzel are knotting my stomach—but not with hesitation. The thought of having Crawford’s rough hands all over my body, bending me into indecent positions, is enough to incinerate any uncertainty. These damn flutters speak the truth. The flapping wings in my belly will be the end of me.
I check the clock and my heart spasms. All of my attempts at distraction were too successful. I’ve wasted over an hour contemplating the possible outcomes. Crawford will arrive any minute now. Specifics of our non-date might be questionable, but the broad goal is set in cement. Am I really going through with this? Again? Now or never. I slick another layer of gloss on my lips and pucker up, but the reflection in the mirror is deceiving all the same.
Just as I’m about to second guess everything for the fourth time, a catcall whistle comes from behind me. “You’re looking foxy.”
I turn to Josey with a smile. “Really?”
She bites the tip of her finger, giving me a lazy perusal any man should be jealous of. “I mean, heck yeah. You’re the epitome of dressed to impress a certain broody biker. But you know it’s like eighty degrees outside.”
“End of June or not, Crawford told me to cover up.” I tug at my pants.
Josey snorts. “That seems counterproductive.”
I shove her shoulder. “Oh, shush. This isn’t about sex.”
She bends over, cackling laughter shaking her frame. “That’s a good one. You’re hilarious.”
“Okay, fine. It’s a little about that.”
“At least you’re able to admit it.”
“Do I actually look okay?” I study my wardrobe once more.
Josey winks at me. “You’re smoking, babe. He won’t be able to resist. I hope he goes all macho alpha on you again.”
“Oh, that was hot.” A zing zips up my spine at the thought of Crawford’s reaction. Prickles skitter along my skin as if sensing him nearby. “Thanks again for watching Mills. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, and yours.” She bounces her brows.
Millie shuffles into the hallway with a killer frown marring her beautiful face. “You look really pretty, Mama.”
I kneel down to her level, bumping our foreheads together. “Hey, don’t be sad. I won’t be gone long.”
Her bottom lip sticks out further. “But I wanna hang out with Ford, too.”
“I know, sweetie. We’ll all spend time together again really soon.” I stroke my thumb down her porcelain jaw.
“Why not tonight?”
Josey sweeps in and ruffles her hair. “Because we have plans, Mills. You and I are doing all of the crafting. We’ll take Elsa to the park. I’ll make my famous homemade macaroni and cheese. You’ll beat me at UNO. I bet you’ll barely notice she’s gone.”
My daughter peeks up at her. “Yeah, I guess.”
I rub her shoulders. “You two will have a blast.”
Millie sighs, her shoulders curling in. “I know, mama. It’s important for you to be best friends with Ford. Then he’ll never leave us. I just like it when we’re all together.”
A cramp attacks my stomach, but I shove the ache away. Worrying is for tomorrow. For now, I boop her button nose. “Sometimes adults hangout alone, right? Just like kids. But I’ll make it up to you with extra dessert tomorrow. Deal?”
A loud knock interrupts us, sending Elsa into a fit of barks and spins. Millie’s eyes pop open wide and she races to the door. With a whoosh, Crawford is revealed on the stoop in all his leather jacket glory. A haze of his woodsy musk wafts over to me, and I do my best to suppress a shiver.
“Hi, Ford!” She practically tackles him, wrapping her arms right around his legs. Oh, boy. We’re all going down in this sinking ship.
He gives her a few pats on the back. “Hey, Peep.”
They make a rapid gesture of quick movements between them. I belatedly realize they’re doing some secret handshake. My blink is weighed down with disbelief. I nearly tumble into the wall while melting into a puddle of swoon.
Hear that? It’s what’s left of my resistance, crumbling into rubble all around me. This guy is giving me no choice. Options are overrated anyway.
Millie ends their special bonding display with a regular high-five. “Be nice to my mama, okay?”
Crawford’s hazel eyes lift to mine. “I always try my best.”
I quirk a brow at that. He could probably up his game. I’m open to suggesting a few essential areas of improvement. “Nice to see you, Ford.”
“The sentiment is very much mutual. You look”—his throat bobs with a thick swallow—“perfect.”
From anyone else this would be a cliché, but from him it’s heart-stopping. “Hopefully what I’m wearing is good enough for what you have planned.”
“Like I said—perfect. I have a helmet and jacket for you on my bike.”
Millie squeaks by his side. “Can I go for a ride, too?”
“Absolutely not,” I blurt before he can argue otherwise.
My daughter pouts at me.
