“I’ll be right with you,” her voice said sweetly. Her professional tone was much different than the pissed off one she’d been using with me. I reveled in the moment of her not knowing it was me and pretended for just a second that she didn’t hate me. The tiny waiting room was littered with racks of brochures and a couple of empty chairs. I thought about taking a seat and putting on a show that I was actually a customer, but the draw to her was too much. I walked around the small partition separating the lobby from the offices and followed the sweet smell of her perfume back to her office. I sat my coffee down on a small table in the hallway and checked my reflection in the mirror. I ran a hand through my hair and took a breath. She was going to listen to me whether she wanted to or not. I’d pulled on a red t-shirt that morning, remembering how she always said she’d liked me in that color. The word Extreme was printed across my chest in distressed letters. Fitting, considering that extreme is exactly what I was prepared to be if it meant winning her back. If my charm and good looks didn’t get to her, I’d work the memory lane angle. I settled in the door frame to watch her busily typing away on her computer.
Her office was cozy—a desk, a small bookcase, and two chairs. The bookcase holding a few framed pictures. One of her family, her and her sister, and one of her with Beau that had me rolling my eyes. Behind where she was sitting was a cork board with a few listing fliers and a few random notes pinned to it. In the corner I saw something I hadn’t been expecting. A first place ribbon from the very first race she’d ever went to with me. She’d been so nervous, chewing her nails and pacing the pits as we waited for the race to start. I gave her a kiss and told her to calm down before heading to the starting line. I’d told her that day that she was my good luck charm and I’d meant it. I won that race because I wanted to impress her. Just like every other one she went to with me.
Didn’t think about me, my ass.
She clearly had some loyalty to our memories if she’d kept it all these years.
She reached over, clicked her mouse, and started to stand up when she realized I was watching her.
“Jesus Christ, Reid,” she huffed, steadying herself with her hands on her desk. The bent over position she was in had a few naughty thoughts running through my head. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” I laughed. Proving I wasn’t sorry at all. The old Nora used to get a kick out of sneaking up on someone, and vice versa. Judging by the look on her face she’d outgrown the somewhat childish game.
“What are you doing here?” she said, straightening up to cross her arms over chest. The way she was trying to relay that she was unimpressed with my sudden appearance was doing nothing but pushing her tits up in the fitted navy dress she was wearing. It clung to her chest and cinched her waist to almost nothing before flaring out around her hips. The hemline hit her mid-thigh and all I could think about was how fantastic her legs look. Even more, how fantastic they would look wrapped around my waist when I finally convinced her to be with me.
“You know, as much as I miss you in a pair of shorts, these little outfits you wear for work are really working for you. I’m digging it.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, trying to act like my compliment hadn’t flustered her. The blush in her cheeks said otherwise. “Or are you here to discuss my fashion choices?” She brushed her hands down the front of her dress before placing them on her hips.
“Not your fashion choices, sweetheart,” I assured her as I walked around her office, non-nonchalantly checking the place out. “Maybe your taste in boyfriends, but definitely not what you’re wearing.”
“Neither of which I feel like discussing with you. Unless you want to talk about my mistake of dating you?”
“Not a mistake,” I told her, walking over to rest against the edge of her desk. “But fine. No talk of current asshole boyfriends.”
“What’s in the bag?” Her curiosity had her checking out more than just me.
“Peace offering.” I held up the bag so she could see the logo. “I shouldn’t have called you the other night.”
“Chocolate Long John?”
“Of course.” I smiled.
“You remembered.” She smiled back.
“I remember everything about you.” I promised, handing her the bag. She took it and sat it down on her desk. It felt to me like she was fighting a battle to not say something. The obvious tension in her face had me thinking on the fly to put her at ease. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or nervous around me. I wanted her to remember how easy it was to be with me. I grabbed the butterfly paperweight sitting on the corner and tossed it up before catching it. “Gift from your mom?”
“How’d you know?”
“Looks like something Becky would pick out.” I chuckled. “How is she?”
“Good,” she said shortly.
“And your dad? Still trying to bag that sixteen point buck he swears he saw on Mitchell’s property?”