Chapter 23
Baylor
Pushing through the door, the bell above my head reminds me of Peaches Sundries, leaving me smiling as I start down the sidewalk with the bouquet in my hand.
She should have reached the city by now, so I pick up my pace, not wanting to be late. I round the first block and start to jog to reach the next, cut the corner, and head for the entrance to my building.
“Evening, sir.”
“Evening, Paul,” I reply, entering through the door he’s opened for me. “Good Thursday?”
His arms go wide, and a big smile splits his cheeks. “Always the best here in the city. You?”
I start for the elevator but turn back with a stupid grin. “Good. I have tomorrow off for the holiday, and it’s about to get a whole lot better than that.”
“Ah! Your guest is arriving today. I have it noted. I look forward to meeting Ms. Knot.”
“You’re going to love her. Have a good one.” The doors open, and I step onto the elevator and punch the button for my floor. With no time to waste, I rush to my door and slip inside .
The place is clean, everything tidy and where it belongs, but I still have some nerves for her arrival. I hope she likes my place, and damn, I hope she likes me as much as she does in The Pass.
I look down at my work clothes, then set the flowers on the counter and rush to the bedroom, where I enter the closet.
What can I wear? Jeans. Okay . . . fuck.
I know she likes me in cowboy wear, but I don’t have that here.
I pull on a T-shirt and jeans, deciding to keep it casual rather than being in a suit to greet her.
Rushing to brush my teeth and put on fresh cologne, I fuss with my hair before putting on sneakers, grabbing the flowers, and going back downstairs to wait for her. When I enter the lobby, Paul grins, knowing exactly what I’m up to. “She must be special, Mr. Greene.”
He’s no stranger to seeing a few women come and go over the years, but he’s never judged or made any snide remarks.
“She is.” More than special, Lauralee is different. I’ve never missed anyone like I have her the past ten days.
A black SUV pulls up to the curb out front. Paul goes to open the door, but I’m right behind him and walking through it. The driver opens the back door and there she is. Her smile is the balm I needed to soothe the part of my heart that’s been missing her so much.
Pretty dress. Hair hanging over her shoulders with more curls than usual, charting their own path down the strands. Her eyes brighten when she sees me.
Breathtaking.
She swings her legs out and hops to the ground. She looks short among the skyscrapers but no less beautiful. In fact, she’s more gorgeous than ever. “Hey there, stud,” she says, coming to me et me as I close the distance.
I wrap my arms around her and kiss her, needing this connection to her more than I realized.
I was so busy with work that I barely gave myself time to breathe, much less dwell on her absence from my life.
Because if I did for too long, I wouldn’t get any shit done.
My mood shifted, and it was hard to focus.
The luggage bumps into my leg, causing me to pull back from her and eye the driver. He says, “You’re all set, Ms. Knot.”
“Thank you,” she says, scrambling for her purse. “Wait, I need to give you a tip.”
“No.” I place my hand on hers. “I’ll tip through the app.”
She laughs. “That’s fancy.”
When her eyes slip to the flowers, I hand them to her. “I saw these and thought of you.”
She immediately dips her nose to smell the soft pink roses, the vibrant pink peonies, and the daisies dotting the bouquet.
“They’re so pretty and thoughtful.” She lifts to give me a kiss, and says, “Thank you, Baylor.” Her cheeks blush in the same shade, reminding me how she can’t hide her sweetness from me.
“You’re welcome.” Taking the handle of her suitcase in one hand, I hold her hand with the other, and we start walking. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” she says with a little hop-skip in her walk.
Paul opens the brass and glass door for us when we return, and I say, “This is Paul. Paul, this is my Shor—Lauralee Knot.”
Tipping his head, he replies, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Knot. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance during your visit.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, and it’s so nice to meet you, too.
” She reaches out to shake his hand. It’s not common practice, it seems, according to his reaction, but he happily accepts the offer.
“Have a good day.” When we cross through the lobby, she looks around and then at me, her hand tightening on mine, and smiles. “He was nice.”
“He’s a good guy.” We step onto the elevator, and I punch the button for the twelfth floor. “It’s weird that you’re here. In a good way, but different.”
She stands beside me when the doors close, bumping her hip against mine. I wrap my arm around her, bringing her in again, and kiss her. When our mouths part, she licks her lips. “I know what you mean. This feels . . . real, official in a way.”
The doors open. I let her walk out and follow her with the suitcase. After unlocking the apartment, I hold the door and trail in after her. “I want to talk to you about that.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, she asks, “About what?” She redirects her eyes forward and walks straight to the windows to look down.
“Us.”
She turns around as if I’ve hit the jackpot. “Same. I’m glad you brought it up.” Looking at the kitchen, she works her way back to set the flowers down. “Your apartment is really nice. It’s sophisticated, like you.”
“That’s not something I can say I’ve been called before.”
“Well, you’ve grown in ways that some of us never had the chance. Experiences and new cities have changed you. You fit in this surrounding. Vase?”
I want to take offense at what she’s saying. Saying I don’t fit in Peachtree Pass feels a lot like rejection. I reach for a vase stored in a cabinet above the fridge. It’s not something I’ve ever used, but I was told to always have one on hand just in case .
Taking it to the sink, I start filling it with water. “How should I take that?”
“It’s in a good way. It’s different, like you said earlier, but it’s nice to see this part of your life and you in it.” She comes to me and leans against my chest, wrapping her arms around me. “You’re sexy in both settings.”
“Now you’re just charming me, Ms. Knot.”
“Is that all it takes? A compliment.”
I kiss her cheek, then return to staring into those pretty eyes of my brown-eyed girl. “It’s a great start.”
“Good,” she says, taking a step back and grabbing a knife from the block. “Now that I have you buttered up, I need to talk to you about something important.” After cutting the twine wrapped around the flowers, she starts trimming the stems one by one.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Maybe you should sit down or have a beer.”
“I need to be drinking to hear what you need to say? Should I be worried?”
“No. Not at all.” Her words are beginning to rush from her mouth, “And remember, you can always say no. There’s no pressure from me because I know this is not only out of left field but also a huge life decision.”
I’m staring at her, more concerned than before, feeling blindsided.
At least if it came from left field, I would see it coming before it hit.
Leaning against the counter, I watch as she trims like her life depends on it.
I reach over and cover her hand. “Look at me, Shortcake.” When she does, I ask, “Just say it.”
“Will you marry me?”
. . .
. . .
. . .
“Baylor?” My eyes begin following her hand as it waves in front of my face.
Did I pass out? I’m sti ll standing, so maybe not.
When I look at her, her brows are squeezed together in the middle, eyes weighed down at the outside corners in concern, and her lips are parted as she speaks. “You still with me?”
“I’m,” I start, shaking the blankness off as every word she said comes rushing back. “I’m fine. What do you mean marry?”
“I was using the traditional definition. Latin root, maritare, meaning to wed.”
“Not literally.” I rest my palms on the cool stone of the counter, taking a long breath. “I’m confused why you’re asking me to marry you. We’ve been dating for, what? Just over a month.”
“Six weeks to be exact, if we’re counting the night you broke into my apartment.” The comment is so off the cuff, I’m convinced she believes it.
“Can we not have our story start like I’m a serial killer? I had the key.”
“Technically, you took the key from under the plant.”
“Okay, let’s dig ourselves out of the weeds and get back to what’s going on now.” I reach into the fridge and pull out a bottle of beer. She wasn’t wrong when she suggested it. “Drink?”
“Water works.”
I set a bottle of cold water from the fridge on the counter for her, then twist the cap off the beer. I finish half before I say, “Why do I feel like I missed half the story? I’m not saying you’re not carefree when you want to be, but this seems like a big leap.”
Taking a long breath of her own, she finally sets the knife down and says, “Can we talk? Really talk? I know we’re new at this dating each other thing, but I’m in a world of trouble. There’s no one I can talk to about it, so if you can’t help me, maybe you can give me advice.”
“You can talk to me. Your secrets are safe.” I guide her by the hand to the couch. We sit, leaving space between us. She appears to get comfortable after angling my way. Though I’m still on edge. Dating is one thing. Marriage? That can’t be tossed out like it’s no big deal.
“Start from the beginning and land here asking me to marry you.”