something from a dream world. Me – little old Winona Jeffers from Peach Pit, Georgia – being escorted through the fanciest department store in the world by the handsomest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His big hand is folded over mine. I’m Cinderella, and I don’t want the clock to strike midnight. Ever.
The bedding department has myriad mini-bedrooms decorated in different themes so gorgeous that I want to pack my bags and move into every one of them. There’s a chic city bedroom, with tones of gray and silver and peach. There’s bohemian, riotously colorful and splashed with Moroccan influences. There’s rustic fairytale, with a bed made from tree branches, draped in twinkly lights. That’s the one I gravitate to.
“It’s so gorgeous!” I stroke the robins’-egg-blue comforter.
“Sit on the bed. Bounce up and down!” He grins like the Devil, tempting me. “You know you want to.”
I hesitate, aching to unleash my inner child. “Your designers worked so hard on this. I don’t want to break anything, or wrinkle it…”
Blake flops backwards and throws his arms out. He starts waving them around like he’s making a snow angel. I whoop in delight and join him, dropping my purse onto the floor.
We stare at the ceiling above us, which is painted with a night sky and a thousand sparkling stars. Somehow, his hand finds mine, and squeezes.
The moment stretches on, and on. Finally, he rolls onto his side and brushes a lock of hair from my face.
“Penny for your thoughts.” His voice is warm and rich.
“Cheapskate.”
“Smartass.” His voice is all affection. He flicks my nose with his thumb.
“Did you just biff me?” I demand.
“Nope. That was a boop.”
I shake my head stubbornly. “It was a biff.”
“Maybe in the South. Where I come from, it’s a boop.” He shrugs lazily. “We could argue about it all night, I guess. Or we could do this.”
He leans in, slowly, and his lips brush against mine in a feather-light kiss. My heart thunders in my chest and my lips part. He pulls back and stares down at me with a tender yearning that melts me. He moves to kiss me again, and I’m mesmerized, my lips parting for him.
A loud crashing sound and a muffled curse startle us apart.
We bolt upright. Across the room, I can just make out a gray-clad figure kneeling to pick up a mannequin.
“Security!” I hiss. I scrabble for my shopping bag and purse. “Run for it!”
He follows me, and we make a mad dash across the room, staying low to hide behind the racks of clothing. We barrel down two more escalators and run through the children’s wear department, finally stopping by a display of a group of children playing on a beach.
“Wait a minute. What are we doing?” I ask, clutching my bag to my chest and gasping for breath. “Why did we run? You own the place!”
“I don’t know, I was following your lead!” Blake bursts out laughing. I start laughing too. We’re doubled over, wheeze-laughing so hard it hurts.
Finally, I straighten back up, holding my aching ribs. The wall-clock shocks me back into seriousness. “Oh, God. It’s almost two a.m. I have to get home and get some sleep,” I groan.
“Yeah, me too,” he sighs, and it sounds like genuine regret. Like he doesn’t want the night to end. “Stupid schedule. Okay, let’s go. My driver’s waiting for me, I’ll have him drop you off at home.”
Goodnight, Cinderella. No fairytale lasts forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Winona
Manhattan is never completely quiet, even at two a.m. The traffic wooshes by at a slow, steady pace, and a drunken serenade twirls from an apartment window. I find it comforting. The vast night silence of the country used to scare me and make me feel alone, even on my own front porch.
Blake and I face each other in front of my building’s awning, his driver double parked a few feet away “I need to see you to your door,” he insists.
I gesture at the front door. “You already have.”
“Your apartment door. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Excuse you, Bossy McBosspants?”
He throws back his head and laughs, a rich, warm sound that I’m instantly addicted to. “Triumph! You finally admit it. I am the boss of you.”
“Did that revelation make you feel all warm and fuzzy?” I scoff.
“I can’t deny that I am experiencing a certain enjoyable level of smugness.”
Blake coming upstairs with me. Bad idea – dangerous.
I shouldn’t let him anywhere near my apartment, because in my apartment is a bedroom, and