The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (22 page)

Again, I wonder
—
shouldn
’
t she get to make the choice?

I push out a breath, resolutely, as I dump my bowl of cereal back into the box. I no longer have an appetite. My stomach is now full of anxious anticipation.
Screw it. I
’
m going to give her the choice.
But if I
’
m going to go for it, I need to dress the part. My appearance is actually something I can change and it's time I do. Today, I will start fresh. I don
’
t have to be to work until after dinner so I have plenty of time to set my plan into motion.

As far as summer jobs go, I hit the jackpot. I
love
working at Dottie
’
s. I will admit that the six a.m. reporting time always takes some getting used to, but it
’
s so worth it when I consider I get to spend the morning helping to bake and sell bread with the best boss ever; not to mention I
’
m done by three and I get every Sunday and Monday off.

I met Dottie at church my freshman year. There
’
s a little cafe in the foyer of the building, so people can drink coffee and mingle before service starts if they arrive early enough, and she supplies an assortment of bagels and breads every week. I fell in love with her butter croissants and then I fell in love with her. She
’
s amazing, wickedly talented, and super ambitious. She opened her shop in downtown Fort Collins at the young age of twenty-five. Now, five years later, business is thriving.

I remember the summer after my sophomore year when I started working for her. With Addie, Sarah, and me renting an apartment, we decided we would spend our summer in Fort Collins and I needed a job. Dottie caught wind of the fact and hired me for seasonal help without an application or anything
—
that
’
s how great she is. Working with her is so enjoyable that it
’
s almost like I
’
m not working. People love her and her regular customers are part of the reason why the bakery is so charming.

Today was my first day on the schedule and I
’
m feeling a bit tired as I pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex. I know I need to get a run in this afternoon, but maybe I could get away with a nap first. Before I step out of my car, though, I
’
m distracted by my phone.
Sonny
lights up across the screen and I grin as I answer.

“
Hello?
”

“
Hey, Ave
—
are you off work?
”

“
Yeah, I just got home. Climbing out of my car now,
”
I respond as I do just that.
“
Why, what
’
s up?
”

“
We have an errand to run. Are you free?
”

I scowl in amused confusion as I head for my apartment.
“
What kind of errand?
”

“
I
’
ll fill you in when you get here. Are you free?
”
he asks again.

“
Sure. Just let me change first.
”

“
Great. Come down when you
’
re ready.
”

“
I will.
”
We disconnect our call and I hurry up the stairs to my door, anxious to know what Sonny
’
s up to. When I
’
m inside, I notice that Addie
’
s bedroom door is ajar. I pause for just a second and listen to see if she
’
s around. She must be. She
’
s shown zero interest in leaving her room, let alone the apartment, in two days. The shower is running. My heart floods with hope.
Good. She
’
s finally decided to shower
.
Progress
.

Satisfied that she
’
s at least up, I leave her be and head to my room to get changed. The weather is on a roll and today we
’
re graced with another beautiful spring-like day. I decide to slip into a pair of jeans and a pink tank top, accessorizing with my floral print scarf and a matching navy blue cardigan. I tuck my feet into a pair of Toms and then I
’
m gone.

Out of habit, I lock the door from the inside. It isn
’
t until I
’
m half way down the stairs that I wonder whether or not I actually put my keys in my purse. I don
’
t turn back, knowing that if I locked my keys inside, no one is readily available to let me in right now. Instead, I continue to my destination and knock on the door before I begin digging through my oversized purse to see if, by chance, I
do
have my keys.

Sonny answers a second later and as I spot his shoes in front of me, I feel my keys. I smile, satisfied that I found what I was looking for and excited that I
’
m about to find out what errand Sonny has in mind for us. Then I look up.

Oh.
My
.

His hair is gone. Well
—
not
all
of it, but most of it. His burnt auburn waves are cut short on the sides, but a bit longer on top; it
’
s stylishly disheveled in that way that makes him look like he just got out of bed and someone is
paying him
to look sexy. I can
’
t help but stare. In fact, I can
’
t really do much of anything. My limbs are numb and I
’
m vaguely aware that my jaw has gone slack as I gape at him. I drop my purse
—
I know this not because I feel it slip from my fingers or fall on top of my toes, but because I hear it when it hits the ground.

Sonny grins at me and I
’
m suddenly afraid I may be so out of control of my body that I might actually wet myself.

He bends down to retrieve my purse, at least I assume that
’
s what he
’
s doing
—
I
’
m distracted by the smell of his hair.
Product; his new haircut calls for some kind of product and it smells amazing. Oh, and it feels soooo soft.

Soft?
Yup
—
soft. My fingers are in his hair. It
’
s official, I have absolutely no control of my body right now. I
’
m aware that I should be mortified in this moment, but I
’
m not. I
’
m so far from embarrassed that I bring my other hand up and run my fingers through the hair just behind his ear as he tilts his head to face me.

So soft
.

My eyes jump from his hair to his mouth. His lips are curled up into a smirk. I look into his eyes and I can tell he
’
s amused
—
but there
’
s something else there, too. Before I can figure out what it is, he eradicates the space between my mouth and his. I can move my jaw again and I instinctively close my lips around his as my eyelids flutter shut.

He pulls away a second later. My heart is pounding. I can hear it. I
’
m sure he can hear it, too.
Or is this a dream? Am I dreaming? Oh, sweet Jesus in heaven, please don
’
t let me be dreaming.

“
You
’
re not dreaming,
”
Sonny whispers as his mouth claims mine. I gasp, sucking in the breath he exhales as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me from my feet. I feel my purse resting against my side, I feel his muscles constrict as he holds me close, I feel the warm skin of his neck underneath my hands, and I feel his lips
—
silky smooth and damp from our ongoing kiss
—
and my stomach is rolling around like it
’
s on the gentle cycle in the dryer.

When he pulls away from me again, my eyes fly open, desperate to look into his
—
but they
’
re closed.
“
Be my girlfriend,
”
he says, resting his forehead against mine.

“
Yes,
”
I answer without thinking. Then it hits me
—
he just asked me to be his girlfriend.
“
Wait
—
what? I mean, no. I mean
—
I can
’
t?
”
He pulls away from me just slightly and looks into my eyes. I still don
’
t understand what I see as I gaze into his green stare, but I
’
m aware that it
’
s
very distracting.

He kisses me again and I moan when he pulls away. I open my eyes to find him grinning.
“
Be my girlfriend,
”
he whispers.

“
I
—
I
—
I
…”

He kisses me again. As his mouth gets to know mine, my fingers find their way back into his hair.

What am I doing?
I yank away from him and shake my head as I try and gain some semblance of control.
“
You can
’
t keep doing that. I can
’
t
…
I can
’
t
think
when you do that.
”
He laughs, the low rumble vibrating his chest. My stomach does a somersault and my breath gets caught in my throat.

“
Avery
—
will you be my girlfriend?
”

I pull my fingers from his hair in order to run them through mine. I need to get myself together. I feel like I
’
m in a state of sensory overload. I take a deep breath and try and find a coherent thought. That
’
s when I realize,
Grayson doesn
’
t like me
…
does he?
“
You
—
you like me?
”

He laughs again and the sound makes me smile in spite of myself.
“
Avery, isn
’
t it obvious?
”

“
Um, well, until this moment, no.
”

“
Hmm,
”
he hums. He knits his eyebrows together as he nods in understanding.
“
That
’
s my fault. I
’
m sorry. You should know that I
’
m
crazy
about you.
”

A wave of shock rolls over me. I know that he just kissed me
—
like
four times
—
which is a clear sign of his feelings, but hearing him say the words to me
—
words that I
’
ve only ever dreamed of hearing
—
it pushes me over the edge. My eyes pool with tears and his face falls instantly.