Page 6 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

Chapter Three

BILLIE

I ’ll never sleep tonight. Not after sleeping on the drive home. I can’t believe I did that. When I told Connor I was going to nap, I’d planned to just close my eyes and pretend to sleep so I didn’t have to talk to him and humiliate myself more.

I can’t believe that I sat in that car and told a billionaire all about my used-clothes habit. Sure, they’re luxury brands, but I explained it to him as if he doesn’t know what Dior is.

I’m pretty sure his white button-down cost more than all the clothes I bought combined.

Not to mention, his sister, Skyla, wore a couture Dior gown to a benefit earlier this year. He didn’t need me to give him a lecture on ready-to-wear clothes from fashion houses, and the sad state of fast fashion in our society.

Although, I really do love everything I bought today, and I enjoyed talking about it .

“I’ll just unpack it all and hang it up and forget about my stupid fashion lecture to the billionaire,” I grumble as I drag one of the totes into the primary bedroom.

This house used to have four bedrooms, but I converted the smallest one, which happens to be next to the primary bedroom, into a beautiful closet and dressing room.

I did it all myself with a closet kit that I ordered online.

Okay, I didn’t do it all myself. My brothers helped.

I painted the walls in a soft blue, the floor is hardwood, and the lighting is specifically designed to perfectly showcase my racks, shelves, and the area in front of the mirror so I can see myself well while dressing.

My clothes are hanging, organized by color. On the left are work and dressy clothes. On the right are casual ensembles. And in the middle is an island dresser where I house all of my pretty unmentionables and pajamas. I saved one drawer for jewelry.

One by one, I pull out each garment from the tote, shake it out, and hang it up, replaying the conversation in the car earlier.

Not only did I go on about the clothes, but then I humiliated myself more by basically whining about the fact that he didn’t want me.

For the love of all that’s holy, I should have just launched myself out of the vehicle.

Road rash would be more comfortable than this horrible embarrassment I feel.

I should have just told him this is the real me and left it at that, but no.

I had to rant and rave about my feelings , and that’s so mortifying.

But when I fell asleep, he pulled me against him, which was an unexpected surprise. He was warm and hard, and I’m fairly certain there were times when I woke up enough to feel him kissing my hair or brushing his fingers up and down my arm.

There are moments when he looks at me, or during those moments when I slept against him, that I feel like he wants to be tender. He wants to talk or just be near me, and it’s not simply sexual. But he holds himself back, and it makes me want to scream.

I hang a Chanel scarf and sigh.

I said my piece. The rest is up to him.

“I need to move on,” I whisper as I open the second tote and continue hanging my finds. “If he eventually comes around and decides to ask for my number or start an actual conversation, fine. But he probably won’t. So I need to move the fuck on.”

When the last item of clothing is hung, I carefully select my outfit for work tomorrow and hang it near the mirror, then I take a hot shower and climb into my pajama pants and the shirt I wear to bed every night.

Connor’s shirt.

It doesn’t smell like him anymore because I’ve washed it about a hundred times, which makes me sad. But it’s so soft and big on me, and for reasons I haven’t examined too closely, it comforts me.

“Stupid,” I mutter as I pad into the kitchen and pour a glass of water.

I stand at the sink, looking out the window to my postage-stamp-sized backyard as I sip the water, and then turn off all the lights, make sure the doors are locked, and head to my bedroom, where I’ll lie awake and stare at the ceiling all night.

What a bizarre day. Exceptionally fun shopping with Martha, as always, and a delicious, peaceful lunch … that Connor paid for , and then a strange car ride home with the mercurial Mr. Gallagher. My mental health day was hijacked. Here’s hoping next month’s trip is less eventful.

“We’re going out,” Dani informs me the following Saturday afternoon. She found me in the dark romance section of my store, and she’s got her hands on her hips, smiling at me.

“Hello to you, too,” I reply with a laugh as I shelve a copy of Haunting Adeline . “I can’t go out tonight. I have a book and a bottle of wine waiting for me.”

I’m so fucking tired. I didn’t sleep all week because I kept overthinking the whole car ride from Big Sky with Connor, and all I want to do is relax. My shop is closed on Sunday, so I get to sleep in tomorrow.

“You’re coming,” Dani says, scowling at me. “We haven’t had a girls’ night out in months. ”

“We had book club last week.”

“That’s not the same, and you know it,” Skyla adds, surprising me as she walks around the bookcase.

“You’re ganging up on me now?”

“Yep.” Dani smiles and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. “We need it, Bee. Bridger’s off this weekend, so he’s staying home with Birdie. Alex is coming, too.”

Dani’s twin sister missed book club last week, and I haven’t seen her in a while.

“I do miss Alex,” I say with a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll come. Where are we going?”

“Just to the Wolf Den.” Skyla claps her hands. “Huckleberry margaritas are calling our names, and we can play some pool, or dance, or just talk. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some cute tourists to flirt with.”

I shake my head, putting all thoughts of that to a stop right away. “No. No more tourists for me.”

Not that Connor was really a tourist. Hell, I don’t know what Connor was.

Sexy. Connor was sexy.

“What time?” I ask.

“We’re thinking around seven? That way, we can have dinner, too.”

“Cool, I can be at home with my book by nine.”

Skyla rolls her pretty green eyes. “We’re going to have fun. Wear something scandalous.”

“I will if you two will.”

“I don’t own anything scandalous.” Dani laughs. “But I’ll dress up a bit, and I’ll text Alex. She has lots of sexy clothes to wear.”

“I’m so bloody excited,” Skyla says with a little shimmy. “I’d better get home and get ready. Oh, and Beckett said he’s happy to be the driver tonight and give everyone a ride home, so we can all drink if we want to.”

“My brothers are so chivalrous.” Sarcasm drips from my words, and the other two laugh. “Like I want my brother to pick me up while I’m drunk and wearing something scandalous. I’d never live it down. Luckily for me, this is a tiny town, and I can walk home if need be.”

“You’ll get a ride, and that’s the end of it,” Skyla counters, pointing her finger into my chest.

“You’re as bossy as your brother.”

Skyla just smiles. “I know.”

The girls leave, and it’s already time to close the store for the day. By the time I get home, I have just over an hour to get ready and meet my friends downtown.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. It’ll be good to see them, have a couple of drinks, and then come home and read for the rest of the night. I can be social.

I can be fun.

And it might take my mind off a certain sexy Irishman.

“Seriously, you are smokin’ hot ,” Alex says as we clink our glasses together. “That dress should come with a warning label that says, I will blow your fucking mind. ”

I giggle and look down at the red slip dress.

It’s gathered just below my boobs and flows down in a way that hides my tummy and ends just above my knees.

It’s held up with spaghetti straps, and it’s the first time I’ve dared to wear it.

But it’s perfect for summer, and with my hair up in a twist, it makes me feel sexy.

“So many heads turned when we walked in here,” Skyla agrees as she reaches for some nachos. “You’re getting laid tonight, friend.”

A laugh bubbles through me, and I shake my head. “No. I’m not. But thank you all for the huge boost to my ego. You’re the best friends ever.”

“Of course, we are, but every word is absolutely true,” Dani replies smugly. Our table is full of the appetizer menu, we all have our margaritas, and I have to admit, this really is exactly what I needed. A chance to talk and laugh and hang out with my girls.

“Why is that guy over there chewing on a match?” Alex wants to know. “He’s got it clenched in his teeth like you would a toothpick. What the hell? Does he think it’s cool? Is he prepared in case he has to quickly light something on fire?”

“Stop staring at him.” I smack her arm. “He’ll think you’re interested in him.”

“I want to ask him what his thought process is here because seriously, what the hell?”

“Maybe he’s a pyro.” I shrug.

“Don’t say that,” Dani replies, shaking her head, and I immediately feel bad. Dani’s husband, Bridger, the fire chief and my big brother, had to deal with an arsonist last year, and it was horrible.

“Sorry. Too soon.” I shake my head. “What are you guys reading right now? ”

“I’m in my mafia romance era,” Alex says with a sly smile. “I’m consuming all things Neva Altaj.”

“Oh, I’ve heard good things. I need to get more of her stuff in the store.” I nod and turn to Dani. “How about you?”

We spend the next half hour discussing books, and there’s a lull in the music coming from the jukebox, so I stand.

“I’m going to stretch my legs and put some music on,” I inform my friends, who all nod.

“Play some Sidney Sterling,” Dani calls out, and I nod.

The Wolf Den is always busy, especially on a Saturday night, and we’re in the heart of tourist season. Usually, a live band would be playing, but for some reason, there isn’t tonight. That’s okay. The jukebox is just as good in a pinch.

I skirt around a group of guys playing pool and grin when one of them catcalls me. I know, it’s not terribly feminist of me, but it boosts my ego a bit more, and I send them a little wave as I approach the jukebox and plug some cash in.