Incumbent(29)

Gretchen gave me a wicked grin. “My brother is a lucky man.”

After I picked out a gorgeous pair of red pumps that rivaled the price of the gown, we headed to lingerie, where I learned that Gretchen wasn’t a shy woman. She tried on a red satin corset ensemble with a tiny pair of matching panties, and looked like a Victoria’s Secret model.

I had selected a black lace garter outfit, but I didn’t model it for her. Unsure if Drake would even see it, I needed to buy it. I’d never felt so sexy in all my life.

When I got home, I hung up my gown and sent Drake a text.



LUCY: Thank you for my gown. You didn’t have to do that.



DRAKE: I wanted to do it.



LUCY: Well, I appreciate it.



DRAKE: My pleasure.



LUCY: Speaking of, I bought some things to go with it.





What was I doing? I was practically sexting with the man. Mortified, I reached for the button to turn my phone off when his next text came in.



DRAKE: Like? ;)



LUCY: Shoes.





There, that will fix that.



DRAKE: Is that all?



LUCY: No.





My hand flew over my mouth, even though I wasn’t actually speaking.



DRAKE: Hmm, is it sexy? Please say it’s sexy.



LUCY: Maybe.



DRAKE: I can’t wait to see it.



LUCY: How do you know you will?



DRAKE: Will I?



LUCY: Maybe.



DRAKE: I can work with that.





A giggle escaped me. Maybe Gretchen had the right idea. Being naughty was actually fun.



LUCY: Thanks again. I’m tired and heading to bed to read.



DRAKE: Sleep well.



LUCY: Thank you. Sweet dreams.



DRAKE: You can count on it.





I ate a quick bite and soon afterward headed to bed. Once I’d changed and snuggled into my bed, I grabbed my Kindle, but didn’t turn it on right away. Instead, I thought of everything that had changed since Drake walked into my classroom. Could I actually have found someone for me?

My thoughts drifted to my high school boyfriend, Greg. I’d thought I was in love with him, and maybe I was. We were so young, but he made me happy, and he was so smart. He didn’t go to the same school I did, but when we met, something inside me clicked, much like with Drake.

But Greg and I didn’t last. Mistakes were made, and there was no way to recover from them. No way to turn back the clock to tell him I was sorry.

? ? ?

Saturday night was finally here. Tiny beads of sweat trickled down my spine as I stared at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. I turned to the side and craned my neck to be sure I looked good from every angle.

I caught a glimpse of the picture I had on my dresser of me and Mason from my college graduation. I was half-tempted to call him earlier to get a male opinion before I saw Drake, but he’d tell me I looked great, even if I only looked mediocre.

I strolled toward the picture of Mason and me, thrilling a little to the click the heels of my stilettos made with each step I took across the hardwood floor. I picked up the silver frame, a graduation gift from Mason, and ran my fingertips over the inscription: I’m so proud of you. Love, Mason.

Proud. He was proud of me that day, and truth be told, so was I.

Back to the mirror I went for one last glimpse, but before I did, I grabbed my phone to take a picture of my reflection. I stared at the small screen and couldn’t believe it was me. I’d actually taken time for myself today.

My first stop had been the spa, where I was waxed and had makeup professionally applied. Happily, the esthetician didn’t make me look like a clown. Granted, I was a bit nervous when the foundation she applied came out of a mini-paint sprayer, but I had to admit the end result was amazing. Once the foundation was done, she accentuated my brown eyes beautifully, first creating a gentle eyebrow arch, and then applying the right amount of makeup.

Then I went to the salon and had my hair swept up in a French twist. It wasn’t tight or messy, but fun, and with the few stray curls she left framing my face, it was sexy.

I quickly shot a text to Mason and attached the picture. Just as I expected, he responded that I was gorgeous. All I could do was smile at his reply.

Naturally, I thanked him, but I honestly didn’t expect him to say anything different. But my vision blurred with unshed tears when he sent another text, telling me he loved me and that he was happy I was going out.

I was neither a hermit nor a party girl, so I understood why he said what he did. Once I thought about it, I realized I was happy too.

The sound of my doorbell made my heart beat even faster, and those beads of sweat that had trickled before were now rolling freely down my spine. This was awful. My back was bare and damp—not the least bit sexy.

Before I answered the door, I hurried to my bathroom and awkwardly bent and shimmied my back against the towel hanging on the rack to absorb some of the moisture. I didn’t know if it helped, but prayed that it did. Then I quickly spritzed on a little of my Gucci Guilty perfume, one of my few indulgences, and took in a deep calming breath.