Mine to Take (Southern Weddings #5)(37)

“I live in town,” he replies, and I gasp.

“You live here?” The shock in my voice must be apparent because he laughs at me.

“Where did you think I lived?” he asks.

“I have no idea,” I tell him the truth. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“We need to catch up.” The minute I hear those words, my stomach gets tight.

“Why don’t we do it at another time?” I again try to push it off because maybe I’m just not ready to catch up. Maybe we’ve caught up and we should just leave it at that.

“Sofia, you have three choices, you can come here.” His voice is clear now. “I can come there or we can meet.” I wait five seconds to see if he is going to give me a fourth option. “So you pick, what’s it going to be?”

My leg starts to move up and down. “Why don’t you come to my house?” If we are going to do this, I’m going to do it on my turf. Besides, do I want to go to his place where Helena’s stuff is probably still lying around the house? Or is it?

“Are you sure?” he asks as I hear a door closing.

“No,” I answer honestly, “but you won’t let up, so this is where we’re at.”

He laughs. “Can you send me your address? I’ll go and get food and then head to your place.”

“Or we can just have coffee,” I suggest, tapping my desk.

“Send me the address, Sofia. I’ll send you an ETA once I get it.”

“Okay,” I say.

“I’ll wait on the phone while you send it.”

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard him right.

“Sofia, you are already a flight risk.” I close my eyes, rolling my lips. “So I’m not going to let you go until I have your address. Or, option number four.” I wait for it. “I pick you up at work and drive you home.”

“Wow,” I respond, shocked that he knows me a bit better than I thought. “As if I would not send you my address. I’m insulted.”

“Nice cover-up, Sofia.” He laughs. “I’m still waiting in my car.”

“You’re in your car?” I fly out of my chair. “How?” I look around for my purse and rush to get out of my office. “You were literally asleep five seconds ago.”

“I fell asleep on the couch waiting for your call,” he explains. “Then when you called, I got up and walked out the door. Now, do I come get you or do I meet you at your house?”

I open the text thread, typing in his name I stored before deleting the text.

3216 Elm Street





“There,” I tell him once I press send.

“Got it. I’ll be there in about thirty-five minutes.”

“See you then,” I say, disconnecting before he keeps me on the phone longer. I rush around the office grabbing my jacket and bags before hightailing it out. I get in the car and make it home in twenty minutes. The whole time I’m playing how the conversation is going to go in my head. Each time preparing what to say to him.

I park in the driveway and run up the stairs, punching in my code. I dump my bags at the door and kick off my shoes, turning on the lights in the hallway and then the kitchen once I make it there. I even turn on the lights in the adjacent room and to the fireplace also.

“Oh, come on,” I scold myself, quickly turning it off. “Why don’t you put on ‘Let’s Get It On’?”

I pace around the room, making sure that nothing screams romance, or I want to have sex with you. “Why would he think you want to have sex with him?” I am literally having a conversation with myself. “I don’t want to have sex with him,” I tell myself while I can hear my cousins laughing at me from Saturday when I said the same thing, and in the next sentence mentioned how good-looking his dick was. “Should I change?” I look down at the outfit I put on this morning, right before I left my parents’ house and drove straight to work. “Yeah, why don’t you slip into something a little more comfortable?” I mock myself. “Maybe some lace and your garter.

“You need to calm down and get a hold of yourself!” I shout at myself, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of sweet tea. “One shot and then you just need to chill out. This is going to be fine.” I unscrew the top off the bottle and take a swig of the tea, and it burns all the way down for a second. “There, now, just relax and stay professional,” I tell myself, feeling my cheeks starting to get hot. I put my palms on them and they feel like they are on fire. “What if he thinks you’re getting all hot and bothered because he’s coming here?!” I shriek, running over to the sink and turning on the cold water. Wetting my hands, I place them on my cheeks, I’m not even done with the first cheek when the doorbell rings. My head flies to the side as I think about not answering it for one second, and it is as if he can hear my thoughts.

“I’m already outside, so you can’t pretend you aren’t there,” he says, and I glare, “and I’m blocking you in.”

The only think I can think of is, “Asshole.”





matthew





I ring the doorbell, my hands shaking. I look down at my shoes and then look up again, not hearing anything from the other side of the door. I look back to the driveway where I parked my car right behind hers. “I’m already outside, so you can’t pretend you aren’t there,” I say loudly to the door, knowing she is debating whether or not to answer it, “and I’m blocking you in.” She tried to cancel this about fifteen times in the span of a ten-minute conversation. “I’ll just sit out here on your stoop and eat,” I announce to the door and then hear the lock turn. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, the second I hear the noise I wonder if she will be able to hear it.