Page 89 of Almost Enough

I take another sip of my coffee, considering her question. “I’m going to let him come to me with it. The next move needs to be his.”

Violet grins. “I approve.”

“We should probably start shopping before all the good stuff is gone. The awards ceremony is in a few weeks, and I still need a dress.”

Violet nods. “Let’s hit that boutique on Main first.”

We spend the next few hours in a whirlwind of dresses, shoes, and accessories. I finally choose a deep emerald dress that skims my curves just right. It’s sexy but still classy. Paired with strappy gold heels, my legs look like they go on for days.

Violet steps back, giving me an appraising look. “Beau’s going to swallow his tongue when he sees you in this,” she says, adjusting the hem of the dress with a smile.

I freeze mid-adjustment, and Violet blinks up at me.

“Oh…” She rises, understanding dawning. “I’m sorry. I assumed you might have asked him to go with you.”

“I didn’t,” I stammer. “Would he even want to come?”

“You should,” Violet says, her voice firm. “He’ll be there anyway. And if you don’t ask him, I’ll do it for you.”

My mind starts spiraling, my thoughts racing a million miles a minute. Violet watches me, her brow furrowing as she notices my unease. She’s good at reading me, and I can feel her studying me with the kind of look that says she knows exactly what’s going on in my head.

“You’re doing that thing again,” she says, her tone soft but firm. “Whitley, listen to me. He likes you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

I meet her gaze, trying to swallow the tightness in my throat.

“You’re Whitley freaking Collins,” she continues, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got that thing. The thing that makes people want to be around you. He’s not going anywhere. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time, whether you realize it or not.”

Her words settle into my bones, a bit of that certainty I usually wear so effortlessly coming back to life. Maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe I just need to trust that this thing with Beau isn’t as fragile as I fear.

I take a deep breath. “I think you’re right.”

Violet grins, clearly proud of herself for pulling me out of my spiral. “I know I am. Now ask him and get ready to watch him melt when he sees you in that dress.”

twenty-six

. . .

Beau

I’m in the middle of cooking dinner, cast iron hissing, the smell of garlic and butter thick in the air, when I hear the distinctive rumble of my Mustang pulling into the driveway. I wipe my hands on a rag and step outside.

Dusk is just settling in as I cross the threshold onto the porch, the hills in the distance slipping into shades of blue. Whitley climbs out of the driver’s seat, her copper hair catching the last of the sun and glowing like the universe itself set her there on purpose.

When she spots me, her face lights up with that thousand-watt smile.

“Your baby’s back safe and sound,” she calls, twirling the keys around her finger as she saunters over. “Not a scratch on her, as promised.”

“How’d she handle?” I ask, taking the keys as she offers them.

Whitley’s eyes sparkle. “Like a dream. I may have opened her up on that stretch of highway past the creek.”

“Oh yeah?” I fight a smile. “How fast?”

Whitley bites her lip, eyes dancing with mischief. “Let’s just say I now understand why you’re so obsessed. That engine purrs like a very expensive, very dangerous cat.”

I try to keep my expression stern, but it’s impossible. “You didn’t answer my question, Red.”

“Fast enough to feel alive, slow enough to avoid jail time,” she quips, stepping closer until we’re almost touching. “I’m respectable like that.”