Page 84
Story: Hard to Resist
“Oh.” She gives me another once over, searching for who knows what. “Huh.”
“What?”
“You look pretty good for a thirty-something-year-old divorcé. Still got all that hair, and it’s not even a smidge gray.”
Her words launch themselves at me like arrows, and Bridget stifles a laugh.
“I’m thirty-five, not fifty-five.”
Hannah snorts. “Wow. Verity said the exact same thing.”
“How is she?”
“Shouldn’t you know? You’ve become her new travel companion.”
“We don’t exactly talk.”
I got her to say exactly one word to me over the course of five days, and it was purely by accident. Never in my life did I think that the wordsorrywould be as satisfying to hear as it was from her lips.
The longer this drags on, the more desperate I become for her. Making Verity mine is becoming something of an obsession, and I am fully invested in making her heart my own.
“Hannah, I—”
“Hold that thought.” She swipes open her phone. “My lunch is ready.” Without even giving us a second glance, she steps around us and heaves open the large glass door, joining the sea of office workers floating inside the restaurant.
Bridget pushes onto her tiptoes, voice a low hush. “Don’t blow this. You have one shot to convince her.”
“I know.”
I am finally getting somewhere with Verity. Each day I spend walking with her to work, a brick comes loose from the wall she put up. I know I am getting close to it crumbling completely.
I saw the glint in her eyes this morning when she opened the door of her apartment complex and hurried down to see what I brought her. There was no longer that trepidation; she is starting to get comfortable around me again. So much so that she wasn’t even hiding her stares or trying to keep distance between our bodies.
Yesterday, she wasthisclose to resting her head on my shoulder as we rode the nine stops to my station.
I just need to give her another little nudge.
We’ve come up with a few different ways to do just that—including a little gift that should be arriving tonight—but the crux of it all lies in the envelope in my back pocket.
“Walk with me.” Hannah breezes past us, clear plastic bag in hand.
Bridget and I step into action, following her path.
I’ll admit, she’s a lot different than how Verity had described her. I was envisioning some easygoing, slightly crass woman. Not the sarcastic fintech chick before me.
“You’re in a hurry. Isn’t it your lunch break?” Bridget huffs, trying to keep pace.
“Yeah, but I have to leave on time tonight for my date, so I planned on working while I ate.”
“Right.”
“So, what is it? I doubt you tracked me down to ask about my salad order.”
I clear my throat. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“Figured. Tell me, Cullen. Why should I help you?”
“Because we both care about Verity. Because I’m determined to do whatever is necessary to win her back.”
“What?”
“You look pretty good for a thirty-something-year-old divorcé. Still got all that hair, and it’s not even a smidge gray.”
Her words launch themselves at me like arrows, and Bridget stifles a laugh.
“I’m thirty-five, not fifty-five.”
Hannah snorts. “Wow. Verity said the exact same thing.”
“How is she?”
“Shouldn’t you know? You’ve become her new travel companion.”
“We don’t exactly talk.”
I got her to say exactly one word to me over the course of five days, and it was purely by accident. Never in my life did I think that the wordsorrywould be as satisfying to hear as it was from her lips.
The longer this drags on, the more desperate I become for her. Making Verity mine is becoming something of an obsession, and I am fully invested in making her heart my own.
“Hannah, I—”
“Hold that thought.” She swipes open her phone. “My lunch is ready.” Without even giving us a second glance, she steps around us and heaves open the large glass door, joining the sea of office workers floating inside the restaurant.
Bridget pushes onto her tiptoes, voice a low hush. “Don’t blow this. You have one shot to convince her.”
“I know.”
I am finally getting somewhere with Verity. Each day I spend walking with her to work, a brick comes loose from the wall she put up. I know I am getting close to it crumbling completely.
I saw the glint in her eyes this morning when she opened the door of her apartment complex and hurried down to see what I brought her. There was no longer that trepidation; she is starting to get comfortable around me again. So much so that she wasn’t even hiding her stares or trying to keep distance between our bodies.
Yesterday, she wasthisclose to resting her head on my shoulder as we rode the nine stops to my station.
I just need to give her another little nudge.
We’ve come up with a few different ways to do just that—including a little gift that should be arriving tonight—but the crux of it all lies in the envelope in my back pocket.
“Walk with me.” Hannah breezes past us, clear plastic bag in hand.
Bridget and I step into action, following her path.
I’ll admit, she’s a lot different than how Verity had described her. I was envisioning some easygoing, slightly crass woman. Not the sarcastic fintech chick before me.
“You’re in a hurry. Isn’t it your lunch break?” Bridget huffs, trying to keep pace.
“Yeah, but I have to leave on time tonight for my date, so I planned on working while I ate.”
“Right.”
“So, what is it? I doubt you tracked me down to ask about my salad order.”
I clear my throat. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“Figured. Tell me, Cullen. Why should I help you?”
“Because we both care about Verity. Because I’m determined to do whatever is necessary to win her back.”
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