Page 29 of I Choose You (Wilder #2)

Since she’d been staying here, it was gradually becoming more and more homey.

Claire had a throw blanket laid across the back of the couch, some decorative pillows with a lotus flower on one and “namaste” written across the other.

A yoga mat was curled up and propped next to the ficus tree that definitely wasn’t here when Wyatt lived here.

“Hey. It smells delicious in here. Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“No. Everything’s already done, except for the dinner rolls, but they have…

” She peeked over her shoulder at the timer on the oven.

“Four minutes left, and then we’ll be ready.

” She moved into the kitchen and started gathering plates and silverware.

I stayed back and took her in as she moved around the space.

She had showered when she got home, her blonde hair styled and tamed.

I loved the windblown chaos that she usually rocked, but this was beautiful too.

Her jeans hugged her hips and ass, showcasing every delectable curve.

Her cropped sweater left just a peek of skin showing around her sl im abdomen.

“You look beautiful,” I told her. She looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes trailing down and then back up. I had a feeling she liked what she saw. The heat in her eyes was a boost to my confidence.

“You don’t look so bad, yourself.” She smiled slyly.

It wasn’t a smile I had seen before on her.

I had seen her wide, laughing smiles, her genuine, happy ones.

I had seen her smiles that didn’t light up her eyes, even the shy smiles when she met someone new.

This smile though, this one held desire and lust, and I was here for it.

The beeping of the timer broke whatever moment we were having. Claire and I each made our plates and sat at the breakfast bar.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I said.

“Me? Ha. I think you know more about me than most anyone. You even got to witness the wholesome DeLuca family dynamic.”

“Come on. There’s got to be something you can tell me. Tell me a story about a young Claire DeLuca. Who was your first crush?”

“Oh, you don’t want that story,” she laughed.

“Come on…” I nudged her with my elbow playfully.

“Okay, fine. When I was in fourth grade, a new kid started at my school. I thought he was so handsome, and he ended up sitting right behind me in class. So, one day, I turned to him and told him I liked his backpack. It had a bunch of patches sewn into it. And he asked me if I wanted to sit with him at lunch. So, when lunch came, I collected my food and made my way to his table, where he sat with a couple of the other boys in class. I went to sit down, and one of the boys put his foot on the seat, so I told them, ‘Chad said I could sit here.’ And then Chad tells everyone he was just kidding, and he didn’t think I thought he was serious,” she laughed.

“Chad who?” I growled.

“Take it down, big guy. We were just kids.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“No, thanks,” she said. Her tone was cavalier, but her flipping the meaning of that phrase wasn’t lost on me. It took all of my self-restraint to stop from telling her to fuck me, then.

“What about you?” she asked.

Good. I needed to keep the conversation going, otherwise I was going to lose all of my blood flow to a single organ.

“Okay. A story of young Reid. Let’s see.”

“Young-er Reid anyway,” she joked.

“I’m not that young,” I groaned. She had made that comment before too. Yes, she was older than me. But we were both grown adults. What did that matter? “I’m old enough to have almost gotten married.”

“Well, there’s a story I’d like to hear.” Claire’s wide eyes stared at me.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything. “Maybe a story for another day,” I told her. I changed the subject and moved on. Claire didn’t push me, just following my lead. After we finished eating, I washed the dishes while she dried and put them away.

“Do you need to go? Or do you want to stay? Maybe watch a movie?” Claire asked.

“Movie. Definitely. Put on anything you want.”

Claire flicked on the TV just as I was coming back from the bathroom.

News programming came to life, a story about a large drug-smuggling ring that was just taken down in California.

The names and mug shots of those arrested were listed while a news correspondent filmed in front of a private estate in the Valley.

Claire changed to a streaming service to put on the movie.

“Wait. Go back?” I asked her. Was that who I thought it was?

Claire raised her brows but clicked off the streaming service, putting the news back on.

“Albert Baudelaire will be arraigned in Federal Court on at least six drug-related charges. Police are still investigating, and future charges may be forthcoming,” the woman on the news said.

“Is that… is that our lighting guy?” Claire asked.

“I think it might be.”

“Albert Baudelaire was the manufacturer of custom, high-end light fixtures and architectural lighting structures. He is accused of using his manufacturing business to illegally transport cocaine, heroin, and methamphetamines across the border from Mexico into the US.”

“Well, shit.”

“What does that mean for us?” she asked.

“I don’t think we’re getting those chandeliers we ordered.”

“But we have to get them. We don’t have the time to find a new supplier and reorder them. They are fully custom-built. That will set us back weeks, if not months.”

“Damn it,” I growled. “I expected setbacks like the floor today. Those are par for the course. But this… I did not see this coming.”

“Okay. This is fine.” She swallowed hard, and I watched as her face transformed from panic to neutral, almost as far as serene. “We’ll have a bit of a timeline delay, but it’ll be fine. We can work around it. Everything will be fine.”

If she said that word one more time, I was going to blow the fuck up.

“I’ll start reaching out to other manufacturers tonight. I’m sure someone will have some availability. It’s totally fine.”