Page 56 of Meet Me in the Vines
A vision of Kellan’s whiskey eyes and the curl of his lip pulse around me, taking over from the inside out like a filthy parasite I can’t escape.
Don’t fucking let him in. He doesn’t control you anymore.
My fingers shake as I find Donovan’s name and start a new text thread.
Audrey
Hey baby. Here’s my new number.
Donovan
Who is this? ;-)
I laugh under my breath and instantly feel better. He always knows how to make me smile.
Audrey
It’s the love of your life. On my way to Lavender Lane now.
Donovan
Can’t wait to see you later, love of my life. This wine tasting group is wild btw. A bunch of old ladies drunk off one flight. Imagine eight Mrs. Dicksons. They’ve already asked me to take selfies with them. One of them touched my ass.
Audrey
lol. What can I say? The ladies love you.
Donovan
Jealous, Mouse?
Audrey
Very.
Donovan
Don’t worry. There’s only one woman for me.
The darkness that was sitting in my gut dissipates. I take a deep breath and walk the few feet to Lavender Lane Boutique, shaking off whatever the fuck just happened. I won’t worry about it right now. I have a night with my man to look forward to.
The bell dings above the door as I walk into the cutest little boutique. This place wasn’t here when I was growing up; it must have opened for business while I was away. The walls are lavender, hence the name, and dainty gold fixtures accent the space. The clothes are absolutely gorgeous, very Napa Valley chic. I hear shuffling underneath the one cash register. I stalk closer and spy a pair of adorable heels peeking out from behind the desk.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Oh, shit,” she whispers. I let out a giggle. A beautiful brunette woman emerges from under the desk, and I take a second to make out her face. My eyes get wide when I realize who it is.
“Oh my god! I should’ve known when Donovan said Isabel!” Isabel Whitt, a friend from high school, comes out from behind the desk and gives me a tight squeeze. Her hair smells like lavender and citrus. I always envied her for being in Donovan’s close group of friends. She was always kind to me, so it’s nice to run into a friendly face.
“Audrey Winthrop, as I live and breathe. Wow, you are more stunning than I remember, babe.” She takes hold of my hands and looks me up and down. “Are you home for good?” she asks, flipping her perfectly waved hair over her shoulder.
“Yup, I am,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. She smiles and goes back behind the desk.
“Welcome home, babe. You like the digs? I opened about six years ago when I moved back after college. You know I went to fashion school?” she beams, her big blue eyes twinkle beneath the chandelier above us.
“Yeah, I knew that! And look at you.” I take in her outfit—a crocheted halter with a pair of high-waisted flares and strappy wedges. I envy that kind of confidence. “Look at this place! It’s amazing. Congrats,” I chirp. She flashes her perfect white teeth in a bright grin.
“Thanks, girl. Oh, by the way. I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was one classy lady.”
