Page 9 of She Was Made for Me

“Seriously, thanks.” She raises her cup and taps it against mine as if to say ‘cheers.’ Her gaze flicks to the door, then back to me. Disappointment trickles through me at the thought of her leaving, until she says, “Which way are you heading?”

She’s asking me to walk with her. I have to glance down to hide my smile.

“Uh, down the block that way.”

“Me too. Shall we?” She motions for me to follow and I nod, pressing my lips together to hide my nerves as we leave the coffee shop. I don’t know why she’s giving me the time of day, but I’m not going to say no to a few more minutes in her company.

“So you grew up here?” she asks as we walk.

“Yeah. A block that way, on Cranberry Street, in an old brownstone. At the time the building was split into several apartments, but I think it’s been restored to a proper five-story home.”

We pause at a street crossing, and she glances up at me. She’s a lot shorter than I am, probably even more with those heels off. My gaze strays to the creamy skin of her neck, then to the opening of her blouse, where I steal a peek of soft cleavage. I catch myself, whipping my gaze back to hers. There’s a shimmer of amusement in her eyes that tells me she noticed my lack of self-control, and I’m about to apologize when she turns to step out onto the road.

“What’s your favorite thing about the neighborhood?” she asks as I scramble to catch up with her.

“Uh… the Promenade.” I gesture to our right. “A couple blocks that way. Beautiful views of downtown Manhattan.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” Her walk slows, right in front of my truck. “I’m Vi, by the way.” She extends her hand and I take it in mine, swallowing as her soft fingers brush against my calloused palm.

“Kyle.”

Her hand lingers in mine, her gaze sparkling as we stand there, looking at each other. My pulse spikes, and I begin to think that coming back to the city was a very good idea indeed. I don’t know how she knows to stop right here, or what her plans are for the rest of the day, but I think I’m about to ask this young woman out.

What the fuck is happening? I don’t date, and I especially don’t ask out beautiful women ten years younger than me, but there’s something in the way she looks at me, the electricity between us. She could have left the coffee shop without me, after all, but she asked me to join her, and is gazing up at me as if she’s waiting for something.

Of course, this could all be in my head. But when I think about letting her walk away… fuck it. I’ll kick myself if I don’t at least try. It’s been years since I’ve even considered asking a woman out. I don’t care if the odds are against me on this one. I’m going for it.

“Listen, uh…” Jesus, it’s been way too long since I’ve done this. What do I say again? “This is probably a long shot, but is there any chance you might like to—”

“Oh, good. I see you two have met.” I turn to see Rich approaching, hands in his suit pockets, smiling as his gaze moves between the two of us.

I glance at Vi, then at Rich, confused. But my confusion evaporates when she steps up onto her toes to hug Richard, and says,

“Hi, Dad.”

Dad.

Wait. What? This is Richard’s daughter?

No, that can’t be right. She’s like… twenty, or something, isn’t she?

I open my mouth to ask what’s going on, but stop when her eyes swing back to mine, a little confused, a lot embarrassed.

Oh, fuck. She’s his daughter.She’s his daughter.

How the hell did I not realize thatViis short forViolet? As in,VioletHudson. And what is she doing here? I thought she seemed vaguely familiar, but… have I met her before?

Actually, yes, I think I have. Once, years ago, when she came to the office, but her hair was brown then, and she was a lot younger…

Because sheisa lot younger, jackass.

I do some mental math. She was eighteen or so when she visited the firm. I remember because she was going off to college, and that was about… six years ago? So that would make her twenty-four, give or take. Not evencloseto early thirties.

And a hell of a long way from forty-three.

Nausea churns through my stomach and I avert my gaze from hers, my face hot.

I think I’m going to be sick.

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