Sway (Landry Family #1)(38)
Barrett: I’d like to give you a line like I was thinking about you or you were running through my mind, but really—I’m working.
I laugh as I envision him stretched out on his bed. In my head, he’s naked, his divine body on full display. His hair is wet from the shower, his abs cut to perfection.
Barrett’s next message pings as it’s received.
Barrett: How was your day? How’s Huxley?
My heart is full as I type out my response.
Me: It was good. Hux is good. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much today. Between Hillary’s House and my paper for class and Hux’s homework, today was a mess.
Barrett: Never apologize for putting you and Hux first, Alison. That’s the way it should be.
I look at the words for a long few seconds before I can gather myself to respond. He’s so sweet, so considerate of Huxley that tears sting my eyes as I try to find the right keys to answer him.
Me: I don’t even know how to respond to that.
Me: Well, if that’s the case, I’ll make sure you stay solidly in second place. ;) Barrett: I miss you.
Me: I miss you too.
Barrett: I would really like to see you tomorrow night. Do you think that’s possible?
My cheeks split and I give in. Maybe it’s because he’s charming or that he’s so sweet about Huxley or because it’s so late and my defenses are down, but, for the first time without hesitation, I reply.
Me: I’d like that.
Barrett: That was way too easy. I’ll send Troy to get you around eight. Okay?
Me: Okay. :)
Barrett: I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Goodnight, Alison.
Me: Night, Barrett.
Alison
THE SUN IS DIPPING AS we pull to the front of the Farm. The evening rays spread from behind a few clouds, creating beams of pinks and oranges in the most breathtaking sunset.
We roll to a stop and Troy turns off the ignition. He's around the Rover before I can get my seatbelt off and opens the door for me.
"Mr. Landry asked that you meet him behind the house. Follow me," he says, leading the way.
The path, illuminated by solar lights, slips between the trees, scents of evergreen filling the air. Troy steps out of the way and I stop in my tracks.
Tucked away behind the trees, invisible from the house, is an open air structure. There are four masonry pillars on a concrete slab. White fabric is tied against each pillar like in a classical painting, and if they were untied, they'd give another layer of privacy to the interior. The back wall is solid with a large see-through fireplace built in.
Taking a step closer, I spot a large wooden table that could seat ten people running down the center of the room. Oversized outdoor sofas and chairs with royal blue covers and bright white pillows with gold accents create small, cozy spaces.
Overhead, a cupola caps off the structure, the glass reflecting both the final rays of sunshine and the light from the oversized crystal chandelier that hangs over the table.
It's incredible.
"If you need anything, I'll be in the house," Troy says. I begin to turn to reply when I'm halted in my tracks. Coming around the corner is the most spectacular thing I've seen all night.
Barrett gives me a smile as he saunters towards me. He's wearing dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt with black, leathery-looking edging.
He looks like he just walked off the pages of a magazine and not from around the corner of a fireplace. Sexy and edgy, beautiful and classic. He's everything.
“You are gorgeous,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear.
My pulse quickens as he approaches, his cologne filling the air. His grin widens as he reaches me and kisses me gently on the cheek. The simple contact has my body rioting, my thighs clenching together to dull the ache that's rapidly growing between them.
He saunters by me and undoes the ties that hold the fabric back. In a few seconds, the front of the structure is draped with the gauzy, flowing fabric, and it only adds to the romantic ambiance of the setting.
When he turns to face me, a wicked grin lays on his lips. "Thank you for coming," he whispers, taking my hand. He holds it in his for a long second, letting the warmth of the contact mingle, before leading me to my chair.
We reach the elegantly set table with pillar candles in large, glass vases and white sand. Fresh flowers spring from containers in the center, as well as more food than either of us can possibly consume in one night.
"This is beautiful," I breathe. There are two places formally set at one end with crystal wine glasses and china that clearly didn't come out of the local department store. I glance down at my clearance rack sundress and release a breath.
At one point in my life, I would’ve been right at home in this scenario. I had a closet full of expensive clothes that wouldn’t fit in my car when I left Hayden. I had routine visits with a hairdresser, fresh manicures, and expensive make-up.
I try not to get embarrassed in the comparison of the before and after because this is where I am now and this is who I am. And I’m for the better because of it in all the ways that matter.
Pulling out a chair, he motions for me to sit. "I hope steak and Petrus Pomeral will do."
"I'll be honest," I say as I lower myself into the chair. "I love steak but I have no idea what the other thing is."
His laugh fills the air, floating on the gentle breeze that flutters the candlelight. "It's a French wine. My favorite. You do like wine, don't you?"