I turn away from the door and busy myself with snooping around Lucy’s room. It’s messy but not gross. There are clothes on the floor and a few cups half full of water on the bedside table. I like it. It’s comfy. Lived in.
“Did you know this was my room before you moved in?” I yell to Lucy through the door.
“I guess that makes sense. I knew you were the old roommate, but before now, I never thought about that this would have been your room.”
I pick up a picture of her and Levi with their faces smooshed together making silly faces and smile. “Yeah. Does that bird still squawk every morning at seven?”
I’m just about to open her bedside table and take a peek when I hear the door to the bathroom squeak open. When I turn around, I fist my hands at my sides just to keep from reaching out for her. Shoot. I change my mind…that dress is too sultry for a first date.
My eyes skim from her sparkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks, down the length (the short length) of her dress. The red fabric stretches across her body and hugs every one of her feminine curves before landing a few inches above her knees. It’s not risqué on its own, but wrapped tightly around Lucy, it’s downright intoxicating.
She clears her throat, and I force my eyes up to hers. She’s wearing an unsure smile that boggles my mind. How does she not see how gorgeous she is?
Her nose scrunches, and she gives me a wobbly frown. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” Her hands run nervously along the fabric, and she looks down. “It’s too tight. My pre-baby body didn’t have the hips I do now.” She says hips like they’re a bad thing, like men just HATE when women have tantalizing curves to run their hands over. She does a little half-turn, letting me catch a glimpse of her back, noting the zipper is still down.
Lucy continues to rattle off reasons she thinks she looks like puke. “…and the hem is too short. Maybe all the added inches to my waist have sort of made the bottom hike up a little bit, you know? And I think the color clashes with my hairwaitwhatareyoudoing?” The last of her words all run together as I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her to face away from me.
The back of her dress is open, revealing a tempting amount of skin and the black strap of her bra. I pick up her auburn hair and push it all to one shoulder, watch her take in a deep breath, not letting it out. Moving probably more slowly than is needed, I grab the delicate zipper and begin to lift it, skimming the back of my hand against her soft, warm skin as I go. Every slight touch feels so charged I’m afraid my fingers are leaving blisters in their wake. My pulse hammers out the words you-idiot-you’ll-never-be-the-same as my hand glides up the small dip in her lower back.
Lucy’s head tilts down and to the side, as if she’s trying to sneak a peek at my reaction. I get the feeling this is a vulnerable moment for her. She’s standing stock-still, as if every single one of her senses is laser focused on me and my reaction to her.
I swallow when my knuckles trip over the black lace of her bra. I can’t help but smile because I like knowing this secret: Lucy wears a sexy bra under what she calls mom clothes. It’s like she’s been desperately trying to hide behind a comfortable facade, but inside, she’s still a woman who wants to feel attractive and desired. She wants to feel those things but is afraid to show it. If I could, I’d make Lucy feel both of those things without her ever having to voice it.
But I can’t…because her brother will hunt me down and make sure I’m never given the opportunity to do it again.
Once the zipper reaches the top, I fasten the tiny clasp at her neck, tension wrapping like a cord around every muscle in my body, restraining me from turning this into something more. I want to dip my head down and kiss a line up the side of her exposed neck. I want to breathe in her sweet, warm scent and let it fill my lungs for the rest of the night.
I clear my throat to dislodge my words as I sweep her hair back again. “You should wear this dress tonight. He’ll love it.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds strained and gravelly.
Lucy slowly turns to face me, and her eyes sweep slowly over my features. She’s searching for the answer…the answer to why the air feels warm between us, why my pupils are dilated, why my voice sounds like sandpaper and I’m slowly backing away from her.
I remind myself that I’m retreating for tonight only. Not forever. Just for now.
Drew will come around, and when he does, I’m coming after Lucy.
“Where are you going?” she asks with lifted brows, and I grab my hat from the bed and put it back on, making a beeline for the door.
“Sorry, I just remembered I…have a thing.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah…sure. You have a thing—totally fine. Well, thanks for coming to fly a kite today. Levi loved it. Oh, and thanks for the oil change. Now I have you to thank when my car doesn’t burst into flames.”
Wait, wait, wait. She’s rambling—something I’ve come to learn means she’s hiding her feelings. I take quick stock of my actions and realize they look bad. I spent the entire day with Lucy and her son (which was a big thing for her, letting me into Levi’s life) and then I see her in a dress that makes her feel uncomfortable and bolt with a lame excuse.
Nah, I’m not going to act like an idiot right now.
I pause my journey to the door and backtrack to Lucy. I stop just in front of her and smile warmly, putting my hands on her upper arms, and lean down to kiss her cheek. IT WAS A FRIENDLY KISS, DREW, SHEESH.
“Thank you for today. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time.” I want to kiss her right on her full mouth, but I refrain and let go of her instead. “You look gorgeous, Lucy. Enjoy your date tonight.”
She gives me a belated, whispered “Thank you” on my way out. In the living room, I find Levi, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he tries to fit two tiny Lego pieces together, now wearing his amazing dino pants. I give him a fist bump an
d tell him he’s the best freaking kite flier I’ve ever seen. His jaw drops on the word freaking, and I think I might have just taught him something new that Lucy won’t like. What can I say? I’m new to this. Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to learn.
Once I’m in my car, I make a quick call.
“Hey, Rachel, you up for going to dinner tonight around seven at Thistle?”
Okay, why did I let Cooper talk me into this dress? I’m racing up the sidewalk toward the restaurant, wearing my old red dress that feels about two sizes too small for me now, my boobs bouncing up and down, threatening to burst from the scooped neckline, and tripping over the much-too-high heels strapped to my feet. Did I mention I haven’t worn heels in at least four years?