Page 4 of Naughty & Nice
“He won’t want to hear from me. It’s best I leave it in the past.”
It was a lie and we both knew it. I’ve gotten good at lying over the years. About how I was in one piece with or without him. How easy it was for me to climb the ladder I built for myself and without him there to cheer me on. Or catch me if I slipped.
Mostly, I lied to myself when I swore what we had was anything less than the deepest, purest, and most enduring love I have ever known.
I kept up the lies as long as I could, to protect us both. Their company grew by leaps and bounds and I refused to get in the way. I watched from the sidelines. I was proud of every build they were a part of. When asked about working with them I gave rave reviews and championed their talent.
If asked about Oliver from anyone who knew about us, I lied.
I swore we were best left a distance memory. An unfinished chapter in my life that I look back on fondly but never plan to return to. It pained me to think of him thriving without me, but I hoped he would. I told myself I would do the same and never turn my story back to that forgotten chapter.
Another lie I told myself—until two weeks ago.
“No. Absolutely not. I can’t...” panic flooded my words when I took the call that proved all my lies meant nothing.
Two weeks ago, Keegan called my office to let me know they were working on a set of builds in a town called Harmony Hollow. Builds that their partners wanted the just the right touch on. My touch, to be specific. I told him to find another designer because it couldn’t be me.
Before I allowed another regret to linger over me, I called back to agree.
Tonight, I spent two hours getting ready to meet with Oliver. Not preparing ideas or sketches. No, I made sure to smell good and wear my hair down and wavy. He once said he loved to wrap his fists in those waves. At the memory, my thighs start to ache a little. Wearing no bra makes my reaction to the memory obvious as my nipples bud up beneath my dress.
Showing up twenty minutes ahead of time is crazy for me. Spending hours on ruby red lips and perfect eyeliner when I never bothered before is even more absurd. Waiting thirty minutespastour scheduled time for him and hoping he hasn’t realized who he’s meeting is pure insanity.
“Josie...are you...areyoumy designer?” his voice wraps around me warm and welcoming.
Years have gone but the sound of his voice filling the space between us makes it seem as if it’s been just moments. I briefly wonder if his moans and his filthy sex noises sound the same and it makes me laugh out loud. My chest seizes as he makes one of those sounds when he hears me laugh.
Oliver is even more beautiful than I remember. His thick chestnut hair looks as if it was just cut and styled. His hazel eyes are bright and even in the dim light I can see the gold flecks I could never forget. He rubs his fingers over his beard—a nervous habit of his, I learned—and I squirm in my seat, remembering the feel of that beard on my thighs.
“Iamyour designer. Well, I amthedesigner,” I flush hot, looking away as I take a huge sip of wine, “Keegan didn’t warn you.”
His chuckle sends heat spiraling through me. Five years and nothing has changed. Not how my body reacts to him or how my heart thuds to life because he is close again. Or how my chest aches because I want him closer even if I don’t deserve it.
I agreed to this for one reason—it’s the holidays and I want just one thing this year—a second chance at my first love.
