Page 260 of Lost Then Found
LARK
“Lark,” Boone calls from the other room. “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon.”
I glance at myself in the mirror one last time and tug the neckline of the dress up a little—not that it helps. It’s made to sit off the shoulder, and my boobs aren’t exactly doing the heavy lifting. Barely enough to keep the fabric in place.
The dress is lilac satin. Soft. Silky. The kind that feels expensive the second it touches your skin. Courtesy of Miller, obviously. She’d dropped it off and said,Wear it. Trust me.
So I am. Trusting her. Or trying to.
My hair’s parted down the middle, loose curls already starting to fall from the number of times I’ve run my fingers through them. Makeup’s minimal—just enough to pretend I slept last night. A little mascara, bronzer, something on my lips that looks like my own color but better.
The diamond studs in my ears catch the light when I turn. Simple. Understated. They used to be Alice’s. I haven’t worn them in a long time, but tonight, they felt like the right choice. Or maybe I just miss her.
My shoulders are still sunburned from Hudson’s tournament—three hours in the bleachers under the Montana sun with little shade and no regrets. The skin’s warm and pink, freckles blooming in places they alwaysreturn to this time of year. I don’t bother covering them anymore.
I kneel to fasten my heels—silver, delicate straps, something that Miller calls effortlessly hot. She said they were perfect for a night when you want to look good without overthinking it.
Boone said he wanted to take me somewhere nice. Something real. A proper date, in a real restaurant in Bozeman, with a reservation and cloth napkins and a wine list we’d probably ignore. Something that saidI see you, I want you, and I’m still trying.
And I think that’s why I put on the dress. Not for the dinner. Not for the heels.
For the trying.
Molly’s got Hudson for the night, and for once, there’s nothing to do at the diner, nothing pulling me in five different directions. Just dinner. Just Boone.
I glance at my reflection one last time, then square my shoulders and walk out of the bathroom.
Boone’s standing near the front door, fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt when I step out. He hears the click of my heels and turns.
And stops.
Fully turns and just…freezes.
He’s wearing a navy suit—clean lines, perfectly tailored, like the fabric got lucky landing on him. The white dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of collarbone and a sliver of chest I absolutely plan to put my mouth on later. Lane’s old leather watch is still strapped to his wrist, scuffed and worn, a quiet reminder of where he came from—and the fact that no matter how good he cleans up, he’ll always be a little bit rugged underneath it.
His curls are pushed back off his forehead, tamed but not too tamed—still brushing the edge of his collar like they’ve got a mind of their own. His beard’s trimmed, jaw sharp enough to hurt someone if he looked at them the wrong way.
He’s hot. Criminally hot. Stupid hot.
And somehow—somehow—he’s mine.
My brain short-circuits for a second and my throat goes dry. Boone Wilding in a suit? Unfair. Flat-out indecent. I might black out.
His gaze drags over me, slow and stunned, like he doesn’t quite believe I’m real. His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, then shuts again. His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow.
“Oh my god,” I tease, crossing my arms with a grin. “Did I just render you speechless?”
He nods, still looking at me like he’s seeing daylight for the first time. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
My breath hitches.
He steps closer, eyes locked on mine. “Not just tonight. Always.”
My heart does this soft, stupid tap dance in my chest.
He lifts a hand and brushes his fingers down my bare arm, like he needs to be sure I’m really here, then cups my face and leans in. The kiss is gentle, intentional—nothing hungry or rushed. Just his mouth on mine, warm and sure, like he’s telling me a hundred things he doesn’t have the words for yet.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “You sure you still wanna go to dinner?”
