Chapter 8 Lainey
Lainey
I had put on one of my very best dresses of all time.
A sapphire-blue sundress with cap sleeves, a scooped neckline, and little pink polka dots in a delicate, almost transparent pattern all over.
It was feminine, fun, soft, but also sexy.
Perfect for a first date, any date in my opinion, which is why I remembered that I wore it on a date with Brett.
We had gone to dinner in the city when I was doing my training program for work.
He didn’t even compliment me, instead gave me a scoff as we left, asking if that was really what I was going to wear to the French place he was taking me.
Evidently it was not up to his standards, too casual.
He had no problem taking the dress off later that night and using my body to get himself off in less than five minutes, leaving me laying in my bed alone, disappointed, and having to “compliment” myself once he left.
So, yup, that dress was in the absolutely not pile along with several other things that another woman would hopefully stumble upon in the thrift shop and create her own favorite memories in.
That dress deserved happy thoughts, not morose ones.
The closet overhaul left my room in disarray, kept me up until midnight, and still hadn’t been rectified since I had a full day of work, and a final team meeting that ran later than expected.
That had me rushing my hair and it turned out terrible.
My curls never look good when I need them to.
I am not one of those fancy YouTube girls or influencers that know all the tips and tricks to make your looks flawless in fifteen minutes—or ever.
I should have called my best friend over for help, but it was too late for that now.
The frustrating hair was tossed into a messy bun with a few loose curls framing my face.
It was as good as it was going to get. My make-up at least was cooperating, and I didn’t ruin my eyeliner with my shaky hands.
Anxiety was eating me up from the inside out as I applied my mascara, and I prayed that Remington was a few minutes late so I could finish panicking and getting dressed in Shania Twain peace.
I cranked up “Any Man of Mine” trying to hype myself up and told her that just this once “my man” could be late for this date . . . not that he was my man, but wouldn’t that be something?
Lainey! Snap out of it, girl . . . Shimmy your butt into an outfit, so you don’t scare the man. Good lord, even a few wandering thoughts about Remington were so distracting.
My door button buzzed just as I was going back to my closet.
“No, no, no!” I grabbed my lavender robe and tossed it on as I rushed to the door. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lainey.” Remington’s deep voice came through the speaker. “Sorry, I am a few minutes late.” I look at the clock on the wall and it literally says 7:04.
I laugh and say, “No worries, I’m still getting dressed. I will unlock the door, so just come on in when you get up here.” Then I hit the buzzer, unlocking the security door downstairs, and run to my bedroom.
I quickly find my favorite pair of skinny jeans.
I don’t care if they are trendy or not, nobody can make me stop wearing them.
Next I put on a cute lavender front-knotted V-neck top with lace detailing along the neckline.
The floral pattern on it is muted and complements the slides that I grab from my closet.
As I slip my feet into my shoes I hear the front door open and shut.
Looking into the mirror above my dresser, I give myself a nod, take a deep breath, and decide on a pair of simple silver hoops.
“I can do this,” I tell my reflection.
“I want to do this.”
“I deserve to enjoy this.”
As I step out of my bedroom, I suck in a breath when I see Remington standing so casually in my living room.
He takes up so much space, but in the best way.
He fills the room with his safe, comforting presence effortlessly.
Remington’s eyes lock with mine as I take him in slowly, head to toe.
His blond hair is perfectly mussed, like he’d ran his fingers though it recently.
The deep olive-green, long-sleeved Henley hugs all of his hard-earned muscles, and makes his amber eyes stand out even more.
The jeans he’s wearing are a dark wash that travel down his perfect, thick legs to his booted feet.
Jesus, I am a sucker for a man in boots.
And these are not the ones that are just for show, they are well worn, but cared for, and I am sure will do amazing things for his ass if he turned around and I got a peek.
From behind his back Remington pulls out a bouquet and steps toward me, handing the flowers to me. “You look so incredibly stunning,” he rasps as his eyes trail over my face, lingering on my lips.
Goose bumps race across my skin, and I bite down on my lip.
“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself. And thank you for these, they’re so pretty.
What are they?” I ask, finally giving the flowers the attention they deserve.
There are a mix of two different flowers this time in pinks and whites, each uniquely shaped but interesting and textured.
“The pink ones are snapdragons and the white ones are dahlias. I know people typically do roses for first dates, but I think you require something unique,” Remington says with a smile that tugs at something low in my belly.
“Unique, huh? Because I am the crazy girl you meet burning stuff, and roses are too normal?” I ask with sarcasm directed at him and that constant skepticism directed at my own heart.
Chuckling with a low, sexy hum he says, “Absolutely not. Unique because you are special and deserve something with thought and care behind it, not just grabbing the easy thing that everyone else might pick.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling unexpected wetness gathering in the corners of my eyes as he continues.
“Mm-hmm. Flowers represent a lot of things to a lot of people. Mean a lot of different things, too. Including these ones. Do you want to know why I picked these for you, Lainey?”
“Yes,” I whisper so softly I’m not sure Remington can even hear me.
Stepping even closer to me he says, “Dahlias have a whole list, but for you I picked them because they can represent beauty, inner strength, and growth.” I suck in a breath.
“Snapdragons can not only represent strength, but also mystery. And they are just really fucking fun.” Remington gives me a full-on, world-spinning, heart-racing smile.
I watch as he takes one of the delicate pink flowers from the snapdragons in between his thick fingers.
I assume he is going to crush the petals, or pluck them off, but instead he gently pinches the flower, and it pops open revealing the hidden inside of the plant.
I grin back at Remington. “I want to try it!” Pinching the flowers myself carefully, the little heads of the petals pop in my fingers—open and shut, open and shut.
It’s magical, simple, and whimsical. I look up to see Remington already watching me with so much emotion written all over his handsome face.
“I had no idea a little flower could be so much fun,” I admit to him, and my shoulders slump.
“Hey, hey,” he says, wrapping me in a hug, his clean soap and cedar scent and strong arms comforting me.
“I figured you wouldn’t know the fun of this if you didn’t really know about different flowers.
My mom had snapdragons planted all along the front porch of our house growing up, and my sister and I used to spend a lot of time playing with them.
Watching all the different bugs come to them, my favorite was always the praying mantis.
Anyways, I want to give you all the flowers, Lainey.
The simple ones, the romantic ones, the unique ones, and the fun ones. ”
“I love them,” I say earnestly. “Thank you, Remington.”
He smiles at me and asks, “Ready for dinner?”
“Yes! I am starved. Probably not best first-date etiquette to say that, huh? But I was so busy with work, a meeting that ran late, and then getting ready that I didn’t get a chance to eat much today.”
Frowning at me he says, “There are no fancy rules or etiquette for dating me. The only thing I want is your honesty. I don’t like that you didn’t eat all day today, that isn’t good. Let’s go remedy that, shall we?”
“Okay, let’s go.” After putting the flowers in water, I grab my purse, phone, and keys to lock up. We step out into the hallway, and I shut and lock the door. Lacing his fingers through mine, Remington makes my heart rate take off as we head toward the elevators.
“By the way,” Remington says as we step into the open elevator car, “I don’t like that you buzzed me up and left your door unlocked. I wish you would have waited for me. I tried to text you that, but you didn’t respond.”
“Oh, I didn’t even see that, sorry,” I say, tension souring my gut. “I really wasn’t ready when you buzzed, and was in my robe, and needed to get dressed. I was in a hurry, and I didn’t want to waste your time, and was trying to just be as fast . . .”
Remington cuts my flurry of words off as he leans his body into mine against the wall, strong hands framing my face. His eyes looking deep into mine, thumb running along my jawline halting my rambling. “Breathe, Lainey.”
I instantly obey.
“I don’t mind that you needed some more time to get ready.
I would have sat and waited twenty minutes, two hours, as long as you needed.
All I cared about was you being safe. Leaving your door unlocked and just letting me come in isn’t safe.
What if someone other than me walked in?
I know that this is Fox Grove, but you never know.
Next time please wait for me to come to the door, okay? ”
I grin at him. This man. He is flipping my world upside down with every sentence that comes out of his mouth, and he has no clue. It’s just him being him. “Next time, huh? We haven’t even completed our first date. That’s some confidence you have there, Remington.”
“Oh trust me, beautiful, there is definitely going to be a next time.” He winks at me, steps back, and pulls me off of the elevator, out of my building, and into the fresh spring air.