Waiting for Willa (Big Sky, #3)(16)

“Why haven’t you asked her out?”

I blink at her, then scowl. “Because this is Willa.”

“And?”

“And up until a couple weeks ago, we weren’t even speaking.”

“You are now.” She sips her coffee. “And Willa is a woman, Max. Not just a mom or your old girlfriend. She’s a woman who wants some romance. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

“Huh.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re smart, but you’re too stuck in your head. You romanced her once before, and it worked because she was head over heels in love with you. Do what you did then but on steroids. Court her.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” I check the time on my Apple watch and grin. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Are you thinking of food now?” she asks.

“No. I’m going to take Willa some lunch and ask her out.”

“Atta boy,” she says, offering me her fist to bump. “Go get your girl.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and paint?”

“Yeah, I do want you to stay and paint,” she replies, making me pause and stare at her. “Kidding. Get out of here. I’ll call Willa later and get all the details.”

I grin, then hurry out of the house and to my SUV. If I remember correctly, Willa could never resist the tacos from José’s, so I swing through there and order her favorite—chicken tacos with chips and salsa—then walk down the block to Willa’s shop.

The bell over the door dings as I walk inside. There are no customers, and Willa isn’t behind the counter. I set the bag down and go looking for her.

“That won’t work for me,” I hear her say. She’s in her office and on the phone. She sees me walk in and smiles, holding her finger up to signal that she’ll be just a minute. “I ordered those blouses ten days ago and paid for overnight shipping. You’ll refund all of my money and send the blouses, today, or I pull my business from you altogether. And that’s a lot of lost money for you. …That’s right. See that you do.”

She hangs up, crosses something off her to-do list, and smiles at me.

“Hi,” she says.

“That was damn sexy,” I reply. I want to pull her against me and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her, but this isn’t the time or place for that.

Not yet.

But soon.

“Me complaining is sexy?”

“You running your business like a damn boss is sexy.” I drag my knuckles down her cheek. “I’m proud of you, Wills.”

Her cheeks redden, and she offers me a shy smile.

“I don’t like people who don’t run their business well,” she admits. “And this distributor has been on my last nerve.”

“Time to find a new one.” I take her hand and lead her out of her office. “I hope you’re hungry because I brought food.”

“You feed me a lot,” she says, but her eyes light up when she sees the bag from José’s. “Chicken tacos?”

“Of course.”

“You know I can’t resist these.”

I laugh as she tears into the bag and takes a bite of her taco. “I know.”

I clear my throat, suddenly as nervous as I was the first time I asked her out when I was sixteen.

“I also came by to ask you out,” I blurt. Willa stops chewing and stares at me with wide, brown eyes. “Why do you look like a deer caught in the headlights?”

She shakes her head and swallows the bite in her mouth.

“Like, on a date?”

I smile, trying to hide the fact that her lack of enthusiasm is killing my ego.

“That’s usually how it works, yes.”

She scoops some salsa onto a chip but just stares at it while she seems to think it over.

“If you’d rather not—”

“That would be fun,” she says at the same time.

“Friday night?”

She nods. “Sure. What time?”

“Six,” I reply, an idea taking shape in my head.

“I’ll be ready,” she says with a sweet smile. “And thanks for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

Her porch lights are on, and my Range Rover is parked in front of the garage. It’s snowed every day, so I stopped by while she was at work to shovel for her.

I don’t like the idea of her working her ass off all day, then coming home and doing more. I know she has enough to do with Alex.

Shoveling is the least I can do.

Willa’s home is a beautiful farmhouse that sits on about ten acres. When you think of the houses on Christmas cards, well, this is what you see.

It’s tasteful and pretty, just like Willa.

I get out of my car, smooth my hands down my jacket, and take a deep breath.

You’d think I’d never been on a date before.

I just don’t want to fuck this up. This is Willa.

I climb the steps to the porch and ring the doorbell. When Willa answers the door, I just about swallow my tongue.

She’s in a pretty pink sweater that falls off one shoulder, black leggings, and grey boots that go up to her knees.