Forever with Me (With Me in Seattle, #8)(12)

“Oh, yes!” All of the women, in their pretty red hats and purple dresses nod and smile, and if I’m being honest, this is the kind of party I like the very best.

“Well, we have surprises for you this month.” I nod at Emily who rolls out a cart full of pretty purple gift bags with red tissue paper as the women all gasp in excitement.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Leona, a sweet seventy-something woman with mocha skin, perfectly coifed hair, and bright red lipstick smiles like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I know that, but you are my favorite ladies, so I thought we’d bring you something extra special.”

“Is it that Fifty Shades book?” Miss Kitty asks eagerly.

“Uh, no,” I reply, and bite my lip to keep from laughing as Emily and I pass out the bags.

“I’ve been listening to that on audio,” Miss Kitty informs her guests. “That Christian Grey is something to write home about.”

“My kids bought me one of those e-readers for Christmas,” a lady named Beth adds. “I love it. This way I can read all of those naughty books and no one is any the wiser.” She nods conspiratorially with Miss Kitty, then all the ladies turn their attention to their bags.

“Go ahead and open them.”

The women dig in and come out with beautiful, hand-dyed red and purple silk scarves.

“I know it’s summer, so you probably won’t get to wear them for a little while, but I just couldn’t resist.”

“Oh honey, they’re gorgeous!” Wilma exclaims, immediately wrapping hers around her neck. “I’m always cold. I have poor circulation.” She winks at me and then gestures for me to lean in and give her a hug.

“I have a date tonight!” Leona announces. “I’ll wear my lovely new scarf.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Emily asks.

“Ed Brenner,” she replies. “He volunteers at the historical society with me, and after making him wait for a while, I finally said yes to dinner.”

“Good for you,” I tell her happily.

“How about you, honey?” Wilma asks. “Do you have a date tonight?”

I turn wide eyes on Emily, who just smiles and waits for me to answer with the others.

“No, ma’am.”

“I have a very handsome grandson,” Wilma replies. “He’s sixty, though, so that might be a bit too old for you.”

“Just a bit,” I reply with a laugh.

“My grandson is thirty,” Miss Kitty says with a thoughtful look on her face. “He’s going through a messy divorce and has three kids, but I think you two would get along wonderfully.”

Not even if it were Armageddon and he was the last man on Earth.

“Oh, no thank you.”

“So, you’re just going to go home alone tonight?” Wilma asks with a sad face.

“Well, no, I’ll be spending the evening with Ben and Jerry,” I reply.

“She reads the naughty books too,” Miss Kitty says behind her hand to her sister, not bothering to be quiet.

If only my sex life were really that interesting.

***

He’s going to be late.

I check the time on my phone for the fifteenth time in the past twenty minutes and scowl.

I hate late.

The front door of the Starbucks near my condo swings open and I glance up. My jaw drops and my mouth goes dry at the sight of Dominic as he pulls his sunglasses off his face and scans the small coffee shop for me, his blue eyes heating when they rest on me.

He’s in a black T-shirt and jeans. The kind of jeans that mold around firm thighs and a tight ass and make a girl forget how to think.

Damn, what this man does to a pair of jeans. I rarely see him in jeans.

It’s a sight to behold.

“You’re almost late,” I inform him, as he approaches my table, making his lips twitch.

“But not quite,” he replies, and leans in to kiss my cheek, then places a bag on the floor by his chair. “Do you mind if I order a quick coffee?”

“Not at all,” I reply, and fist my hands in my lap so I don’t reach up and cover my cheek where his lips just were. I’m like a freaking lovesick teenager.

Check that. Horny teenager.

It’s disgusting.

I pull my notes up on my iPad and read through them while Dom orders his coffee and returns to me, carrying two cups, and places one next to me.

“What’s this?”

“Your tea,” he replies and sips his coffee.

“How did you know what I drink?”

“I asked the barista,” he replies with a smile. “Not a coffee drinker?”

“I hate it,” I reply with a shrug. “I prefer strong tea with honey.”

“So noted,” he replies softly. “How’s your head?”

I tilt my head and watch him for a moment. “Headache’s all gone. Your magical leaves worked.”


He laughs and shakes his head. “There’s no magic. My grandmother used to do that for us.”

“Us?” I ask before I can catch myself. What happened to keeping this strictly professional?

“My two cousins and myself. We all lived on my grandparent’s vineyard.”

“In Tuscany.”