I wish I could blame the lack of sleep on a restless toddler having zombie-inspired nightmares. I can’t. Nope, that blame lies solely with one Owen Butler. Damn him and his late-night call. Okay, so it wasn’t completely late, but sharing an appetizer with Ashton and Piper before paint night and then two glasses of wine made me very sleepy. The knowledge that I didn’t have to go through the bedtime motions with the girls was a bonus.
What I hadn’t planned was settling into bed and having Ari running in my room afraid we weren’t going to be properly prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse. Apparently, Mrs. Larson likes to watch zombie television shows and didn’t notice Arizona hiding through two episodes.
Normally, one would assume a four-year-old would have nightmares of the creepy, slow-walking, and moaning zombies. Not my girl. Nope, she was afraid we wouldn’t have enough snacks and water. She gets that from her mother. I would be hiding in the closet and praying a tree fell on the zombies.
I had finally settled her concerns and declared our house to be fully stocked with food and a zombie-free zone when Owen texted me. It was nice having someone show concern for my well-being for a change. I mean, my family does, but this was different. It was nice to know someone just thought of me. When he called instead of responding I assumed he was going to comment further on what I was wearing in bed. Instead, he surprised me with interest in the zombies.
Then, we talked. About nothing. It was a little strange but welcoming. I refused to check the time when we finally ended our call but I know it was later than I planned and I’m paying the price today.
Thankfully, the office phone hasn’t been ringing and I’m able to lose myself in my work. Spreadsheets, filing, and outgoing mail is the perfect day when I’m this tired. It’s also my Friday since my mom and I are heading to see Dakota tomorrow. I wish we were bringing her home with us, but we aren’t. This is one of the first steps to her coming home. She wanted us to come meet her “team” and be part of the first meeting with them as we prepare for her to come home.
If all goes well, she should be back in the next few weeks. I am beyond thrilled to have my sister home but not as much as the girls will be to have their momma. My mom wanted to take the girls with us so they could see Dakota. Ultimately, that plan was vetoed by those in charge of her care. I offered to go alone so Mom could be with the girls. Mom insisted on going so that left Dad and Linc in charge of the little angels. I’m sorry we’re going to miss the entertainment of those two trying to entertain the princesses.
I’m not sure what it is about the day before you leave out of town, but it is stereotypically the longest day ever. This one is no different. By lunch time I was ready to call it a day and suggest we leave tonight instead. Unfortunately, I know that won’t work for everyone so here I sit, crushing candy on my phone. I’m sure Jameson would be fine with me leaving early, but I feel guilty. So, instead I’ll lose these five lives and then tackle another box of old paperwork.
I’m within two moves of passing this damn level when my phone rings and the game disappears. You’ve got to be kidding me, I’ve been on this level for three freaking days! And, to top it off, it’s Kent. Again. This guy is like a damn fungus.
“What do you want, Kent?” I don’t bother hiding the annoyance in my voice.
“Minnie, that was quite rude.”
“Yes well, subtleties haven’t been working so I figured why not get to the point.”
“Is that what working with a bunch of construction workers has done to your personality? Turn you gruff?”
Was he always a pretentious asshole? Probably.
“What do you want, Kent? I’m working. It’s quite busy here,” I reply while clicking the Solitaire game on my computer. That’s how thrilled I am for this call.
“You know why I’m calling. I want to know when you’ll be returning to work. Your leave is almost expired. Your workload is suffering and I’d hate for you to have more on your plate when you return. Plus, there’s the matter of us to discuss.”
I can’t help but snort in response. Us? This guy cannot be for real. Truth is, if he’d called and asked me back when I first moved here, I’d have probably considered it. Now? Now that I’ve settled in Lexington, found a job I enjoy, made friends, and, well, had some mind-blowing sex, I wouldn’t dream of going back to him.
“First, there is no us so you need to move on from that. Second, I am perfectly aware of the status of my leave as I’ve told you at least twice in recent days. Third, I’m really going to need you to stop calling me. It’s not only unprofessional, Kent, it is also really fucking annoying. Goodbye.”
I don’t bother waiting for a response and hang up the phone. Ugh, that guy is so damn annoying. And, obviously hard of hearing because he calls. Again. I slide the decline call button and pull up the settings for Kent’s contact and block him. Problem solved. At least one problem.
I know, it’s shitty of me to still technically have my old job while working here. I’m a horrible person. Truthfully, I didn’t expect to fall into a life in Lexington. Horrible, shitty person. What Kent doesn’t know, what nobody knows, is that I have an appointment with my Human Resources Representative in a few weeks to submit my resignation. I think I knew deep down I wasn’t going back, but I didn’t have it in me to simply walk away without weighing my options. They’ve been fully weighed and I’m staying in Lexington and at Strauss Construction.
By the time the clock strikes four, I’ve officially had enough of this day. I tap out a text to Jameson that I’m heading out early. His initial response is a thumb up emoji. Which, is immediately followed up with a note to drive safe and he’ll see me next week. Since I have some free time on my hands before Mrs. Larson is expecting me, I decide to stop by one of the little shops in town to browse. I should finally accept that there is less use for my pencil skirts and high heels at the office and invest in a few simple skirts and dresses instead.
I luck out with a parking spot in front of The Closet. The little bell above the door jingles and alerts the clerk to my presence. An older woman dressed in head-to-toe purple greets me with a warm smile and extended arms.
“Hello, dear! You must be Minnie! It’s wonderful to finally meet you!”
Before I’m able to muster a hello, the woman has me pulled into a hug. I don’t even realize she’s swaying from side to side until she releases me. I’m still swaying when she grabs both of my hands, her smile contagious.
“I’m Loretta and this is my shop. Charla has told me so much about you. You really are a pretty thing, aren’t you? So curvy.”
I have no words. I’m standing here blinking.
“I know, I’m a lot to take in. It’s just been months and you haven’t been in yet. I was beginning to take it personally. Now, what can I help you with?”
“I’m sorry, Charla?”
“Larson. Charla Larson. Your babysitter?”
“Oh! Sorry. My mind is a little all over the place. Yes, of course. I always call her Mrs. Larson because of the girls; her name somehow slipped my mind. Sorry for not being in sooner. Shopping isn’t exactly my favorite pastime. I’m more of an online shopper.”
“Oh, pish posh. Online shopping doesn’t give you the experience! Don’t let me get in your way. Look around, touch the fabrics, enjoy the clothes. I’ll be over by the register if you need anything.” And, as quickly as I was greeted, I’m left standing alone in the middle of the store.
I take in the items displayed. The Closet has items that vary from ornate accessories to simple sundresses—on sale!—to what looks like semi-formal dresses. In the back is a curtain drawn with a chandelier hanging in the center of a room. I start making my way toward the curtain like I’m one of the zombies Ari is worried about.
Lingerie. Beautiful slips, robes, and bodysuits hang from the wall. A circular table fills the center of the room with panties and bras displayed. It’s small, but everything in this room screams femininity and sensuality.
“Isn’t it beautiful in here? My daughter thinks I’m crazy for having this room but I told her, ‘Felicity, women want to feel beautiful and it’s my duty to provide them the opportunity.’ My daughter and I don’t see eye to eye on much, unfortunately. But, that’s neither here nor there. Do you have a fella that would like some of these items?”
The moment she asks, my mind flashes to Owen, but that thought is instantly extinguished. One night together doesn’t mean I should be lingerie shopping. Who even knows if there will be a second night? I don’t want to assume but, I mean, new panties and a matching bra have always made me feel good in the past. Why would this be any different.
“Felicity? I believe I met her. You have a granddaughter and grandson?” I ask Loretta while running my hand down the lace of a pair of red panties.
“I do. Lights of my life, those two. Well, Jacob is a light. Clem is a bit of a pain in the ass like her mother but I love her just the same. My Felicity, she’s … well, she’s who she is. You’ve met her you say? Should I apologize and say she wasn’t raised to be ugly?”
“Oh, no. It was a brief encounter. I haven’t met many people outside of a few through work. I spend a lot of time with my nieces.”
“Ah yes, the girls named after that medical show. Charla thinks the world of them. You keep touching those panties and you’re going to have to buy them, dear.” Her tone is teasing, but I pull my hand away like it’s on fire just the same.
“I’m joking. Why don’t we find you a few things to try on? Man or not, lingerie makes a woman feel beautiful and empowered. Let’s find you something that also makes you feel sexy.”
Without waiting for my reply, Loretta pulls a measuring tape from the drawer of the table and begins taking my measurements—bust, waist, and hips. I’m not certain how it happened but within a few minutes I’m armed with a few different choices of bras, a slip, and a beautiful cobalt-blue robe. I try everything on, and two hundred dollars later, I’m throwing two bags of items in the backseat of my car and headed for home.
I didn’t get a dress or a skirt but I found a few things that absolutely made me feel sexy and beautiful. And, that is never a bad thing.
By the time I pack my bags for the weekend, write out a few instructions for my dad, and check on the girls, I’m beat. My bed is calling my name and the moment my head hits the pillow I realize my days in this bed are numbered. I should probably start sleeping in the guest room. And, I should also probably start figuring out where I’m going to live. I’ll be here with Dakota for a while but by the holidays I need to be on my own and let her and the girls get settled.
I feel foolish lying here alone in this big bed wearing my new slip, but I spent a pretty penny on this baby and I plan on getting plenty of use out of it. The slip is the same cobalt blue as the robe I purchased but the bust is all black lace with thin straps that dip low in the back. I love the feel of the satin against my skin and am grateful the lace bust holds my breasts in place.
I turn my e-reader on and once my passcode is entered, I flip the switch of the lamp off. My plan is to read for just a few minutes before what is hopefully a full night of sleep. I’ve opened the book I’m reading when my phone signals a text message. It’s late, almost midnight, which is an odd time for a text message.
Owen: Whatcha doin?
Me: Just lying in bed.
Owen: Naked?
Me: Shut up.
Owen: I’ll take that as a yes.
Me: Are you drunk?
Owen: Nah. Just had a few beers.
Me: Did you go out?
I don’t know why the thought of him going out sends a wave of uneasiness through me. It’s not jealousy. It’s … okay, maybe. A little. But, only a little.
Owen: Just to The Road with Landon
Me: That’s cool
Owen: So, what are you doing?
Me: I’m going to read and then go to sleep.
Owen: Want company?
Me: To read?
Owen: I mean, if that’s what you wanted to do.
Me: Do you want to read?
Owen: I could read.
Me: Reading is healthy.
Owen: We are using “read” as code, right?
Me: I hope so. Otherwise we sound like idiots.
Owen: Open your front door.
What?! I look at my phone and toward my bedroom door. He can’t be.
Owen: Minnesota, open the door.
Owen: Please.
Owen: Pretty please …
Owen: I’d really like to read with you
I toss back the covers and look around the room. It’s dark in here. Only a dim stream of moonlight fills the room along with the glow of my e-reader. I have two choices. I can tell him to go home or I can go answer the door. I mean, I am wearing this lingerie after all. Maybe it’s a sign?
Screw it, sign or no sign Owen is standing on my porch and I’m standing here contemplating … well, nothing that matters. I grab the robe from the back of the chair by the door and throw it on. I’m fluffing my hair as I pad down the hallway toward the door. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and open it slowly.
Standing on my porch with his left arm on the door frame and a smirk on his face is one Owen Butler. All six feet something of him in a form fitting T-shirt, loose-fitting jeans that I know are hugging his backside perfectly, with a sexy-as-sin smirk on his face. I’m pretty sure that sound you’re hearing is my ovaries exploding.
“Hey, beau…holy fuck, woman. What are you wearing?” His eyes widen as he stands up straight and stalks toward me. In two steps he’s through the door, standing so close I can feel the heat radiate from his skin. My heart flutters and my hands twitch. He looks intense, focused, and thoroughly ready to fuck me silly.
“Just pajamas.” My voice is a whisper.
His hands grab my waist, pushing aside the robe to fully expose my lace-covered breasts to him. Suddenly shy, my chin drops and my toes curl as I place my hands on his forearms. Damn, construction does a body good. As I’m having this thought, his hands slowly fall to my ass and tug me toward him.
“Well, I approve of these pajamas. You look hot as fuck.”
“Shh, the girls are asleep. And, uh, thanks?”
Owen moves his hand from where it rests on my butt up to my face, pulling my gaze to his.
“I mean it. You look amazing.” His voice is low which almost makes him more sexy if that’s possible.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed and my mouth dry. Owen must sense my nervousness because the intensity he showed a minute ago vanishes and, in its place, is a smile that reminds me of a kid in a candy store. Then, as quickly as the sweetness took over his expression, he smirks and reaches down to pick me up. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my arms resting on his shoulders, and without another word spoken, his lips are on mine, he’s quietly closing the door, and walks down the hall toward my room.