Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(42)

I deliver a glass of wine and catch Davis watching me.

Yeah. We’re still seeing each other.

“Looking low, cowboy.” I gesture to his bottle, which is a quarter full.

“Just one tonight.”

“Really?” The disappointment in my voice is pronounced. I don’t want him to leave. “Who will banter with me when you go?”

I prop my hands on my hips and hope that shows how devil-may-care I am.

“Early morning. I’m flying to San Francisco.”

I blink, stunned. “San Francisco? In California?”

“Last I checked.”

“Oh.” He didn’t mention a trip, and I’ve seen him steadily over the last few weeks.

“My boss is based out of San Fran, so once every six to twelve months I fly out. He likes face-to-face meetings.”

“How long will you be gone?” I try to sound casual as I swipe the bar top with a towel.

“A week.”

“A week?” Okay, that sounded not-casual-at-all.

A smile spreads Davis’s perfect mouth.

“Gracie.” He squints one eye. “Are you going to miss me?”

I snort. “Your cooking, maybe.”

His cocksure smile endures.

“If I would’ve known, I could have traded my schedule.” I close tonight. I’ll be lucky to be home by two A.M.

“The week’ll go fast. And give you time to hang out with your friends instead of me.”

I try not to let that comment sting. Is he tiring of me already?

Davis swipes his phone off the bar and stands.

“You’re leaving now?” Also: When did I become so desperate?

He leans forward on the bar. “Kiss me, woman.”

“I can’t. I’m in charge,” I mumble.

“Come on.” His gray eyes sparkle.

I give in and kiss him. It’s too brief.

“Text me if you get lonely.” It’s the last thing he says to me as he walks for the door. I watch him go, liking his long-legged, confident stride. Hating how much I like it because it serves to remind me how much I’ll miss him.

Across the room, a cute blonde and her other cute blond friend give me the stink eye.

I don’t like that.

I love it.

—

Rox and I are at Paddington’s, a fancy wedding dress shop in South Columbus. The amount of tulle in here could filter the water for a small country.

Yikes.

“I want something slim and slinky,” she says as she makes a mortified face at a pale pink puffy dress on a mannequin.

“If you end up doing the destination wedding thing, you should go for something short and sassy,” I correct.

“Maybe. But I still want to feel bridelike. I’m not sure cocktail length is going to cut it.”

We each take a rack, sliding bagged dress after bagged dress aside before settling on a few contenders. Rox has a great figure (the bitch), so she can pull off anything. I’m kidding about the bitch thing. I have a great figure too; it’s just that hers is more on par with designer fashion than mine.

“What do you think?” She steps out of the dressing room in a floor-length, backless white gown. The front dips low to show off her generous cleavage, and lace and pearls decorate the bodice.

“Roxanne,” I breathe, my hand clasped at my heart. “You’re beautiful.”

She grins and sweeps her long dark hair to one side, viewing the back in a three-way mirror.

“Is it unreasonable to buy the first dress I try on?” she asks. I can hear in her tone she wants permission to do just that.

“Not if it’s as perfect as that one.”

“I’m doing it.” She grins, and I helpfully return the other dresses to the rack.

An hour later, we’re at an oyster bar drinking champagne and celebrating Rox’s purchase: a Vera Wang wedding dress for her to-be-determined wedding date.

“I’m so glad you’re sharing this with me!” Rox says. “My mom would have loved to see this day.” Her expression is wistful. Her mom died of cancer when Rox was in junior high. I say a silent thanks to the universe for my mom—she can be a pill, but I’m glad I have her. Rox trades wistfulness for a good-natured eye roll. “My dad and brothers are too busy hunting and fishing to wedding dress shop with me.”

“Happy to fill the role,” I tell her. “I don’t think dress shopping is supposed to include dads and brothers anyway.”

She smiles. “So what’s new with you and the business guy? I haven’t heard the latest.”

“Oh, nothing much. Just dating…still.”

“Still?” Her eyebrows climb her forehead.

“He’s sort of…incredible.” I bite my lip. I called her last week and filled her in on my dad showing up and how Davis sat with me while I found out more about why my dad had shown up. She listened and told me to cry if I wanted to, and I did.

We order another round of champagne when our cheese plate arrives. Rockford, Brie, cubes of mango habanero cheddar, roasted almonds and honey, and fresh fruit.

“My mouth is literally watering,” Rox says as we both go for the cheese. “So tell me more about Davis. What do you do on your dates?”