Mine to Lose

by T. K. Rapp

  Being in these arms and feeling him pressed against me is where I want to be. Screw work and getting up, my world is perfect; he is perfect.

  “Trey-” My voice sounds needy, even to me.

  The moment his name escapes, my arms flail and I am jolted upright as I look around the room trying to figure out what’s going on. Something inside finally clicks and I rub my eyes furiously as they burn with the light creeping through the window. My heart rate is accelerated and I realize that I’m in my bed. Alone.

  “Not again,” I groan, throwing myself back onto my pillow. I have woken up from the early stages of a dream. A bad, bad dream. Guilt and embarrassment wash over me when I realize I was about to have another sex dream about Trey, Mr. Miller - my client. My client who is not my fiancé. The same client that has made it clear that he has no interest in me. I have to chalk these dreams up to spending so much time with him while planning his party.

  It all started when he made a point to tell me that he was no threat to Ryan. I never considered him a threat, but when he put it out there, it seems that’s all I’ve been able to focus on. Of course he’s not a threat, I love Ryan, and we are in the middle of planning our wedding. Some of the details which we plan on taking care of this weekend when he visits.

  The cell phone is charging next to my side of the bed and it begins buzzing, snapping me out of mentally chastising myself. At first I think it’s my alarm, but I quickly discover that it’s actually ringing. A surge of excitement runs through me when I see that it’s Ryan, but my excitement fades when I remember I just woke up from a sex dream. About Trey.

  It was just a dream, I try to remind myself, but I don’t think my brain is getting the message.

  “Hello?” I answer, clearing my suddenly dry throat.

  “Hey babe.” His tired voice filters through the phone. “You up?”

  “Yeah, just got up. You never called last night. Everything okay?” I ask, looking at the time on my clock.

  “Sorry about that?” he says in a tired voice. “I had a late night; stayed behind to help Alex get this package together to send out in the morning. We still didn’t finish, so we have to go in early today, just to check it all and make sure it’s put together right.”

  “That sucks,” I respond, still distracted from my dream.

  “Everything okay? You sound like you’re getting sick.” I smile because he’s concerned about me, so I go along with it.

  “Yeah, I might be coming down with something,” I start, “and it doesn’t help that I got a crap night’s sleep last night.”

  He laughs lightly, and I can picture his face when he speaks. “Sometimes you say the weirdest things.”

  “It’s not weird,” I argue back, teasing him. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

  “Alright. If you say so. You have a busy day ahead?”

  “I have several meetings, and I have to take my client to see a few florists today.” The moment I mention my “client,” my cheeks burn, my neck feels hot and I start to look around like I’ve just been caught, which is ridiculous since Ryan isn’t even here.

  “Okay, then, I don’t wanna keep you,” he starts. “I was just thinking about you, wanted to make sure we’re all set for tomorrow.”

  “I made sure to let Elle know that I’m only working a half-day, so I’m all yours after that.”

  “You’re always all mine,” he counters quickly, leaving me grinning like some sort of idiot.

  “Always,” I agree.

  “I better let you go, I just wanted to hear your voice before I started my day.”

  “It’s a great start now.” I smile, because it’s true.

  “I love you, Em.” His voice grows painfully quiet and I wish he were here holding me. “Call me later?”

  He sounds so sad with that question and my heart clenches. “Of course I will, and Ryan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too.”

  Our goodbyes late at night and early in the morning seem to be the most intimate, the most real. There’s a pain to them, something so raw. Every time we say it, I remember again how much I love him, and why I’m doing my damnedest to make this work. Hanging up the phone, I try to relax, when my dream comes blazing through my memory again.

  “Shit!”

  I take a quick glance at my watch and I have just enough time to call Langley and see what she has to say. My sister always gives the best advice, even if I don’t always listen to it. I hope that I don’t catch her and her man, Reid, at an awkward time. Just thinking about it, I want to hang up the phone and call later, but then she answers.

  “Hey Emmy.” Her use of my childhood nickname makes me smile. “Why are you calling so early?”

  “I’m sorry, I was just about to hang up. I know you probably have a busy day,” I admit, but only because I really don’t want to talk now.

  “I’m up now, what’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing, really,” I say, trying to come up with another reason for my call. But when I can’t come up with anything, I go with the truth. “It’s just, I had a dream this morning. It was starting to get pretty hot when I woke up.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” she teases. “Besides, Ryan will be there tomorrow and you can take care of that.”

  “Well,” I pause, unsure how she’ll take the rest of it. “That’s the thing, it wasn’t about Ryan.”

  “Trey?” she asks clearing her throat. I hear her shuffle, I assume, to make sure she’s alert for my answer.

  “Yeah?” I wince on my end, because saying it out loud makes me feel really weird.

  “This guy must be pretty damn good looking if you dream about him.”

  “Lang,” I groan from embarrassment, “this wasn’t the first dream. I’ve had similar ones for a few nights now.”

  “You’re overthinking this, okay. Ryan has been gone for what, a month now? You miss him, you don’t see him every day like you used to, but you do see your client rather frequently. It makes sense that you would have dreams about him, but it doesn’t mean anything. You’ll get to see Ry tomorrow, and I imagine when he leaves, you’ll be having all sorts of dreams about what you want to do to him. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you want the dreams to mean something?”

  “Of course not,” I protest, offended by her question.

  “If you say so,” she says in that condescending tone that only Lang can get away with.

  “Why do you have to go there? I wasn’t implying I want there to be something more, I know there’s nothing more. I just needed you to help me sort through it. Hell, you’re the damn psych major, I thought maybe you’d have some insight that didn’t come with a side of morning bitch,” I snap in a snarky tone.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes!” I huff before I start laughing. “Thanks, I needed that. I gotta go; I’m already running a few minutes behind. I’ll call you this weekend.”

  “You better not call me!” Her voice is playful. “I expect you to be tied up with Ryan all weekend, and I really don’t want to hear any of the details. So just call me when you’re sitting on the couch, curled in your little ball with your blankey and a box of tissues after he leaves. Then I’ll remind you, again, why this will all be fine.” The way she delivers this monologue implies she is familiar with getting my attitude in check, although the blankey part is a stretch.

  “I love that you have so much faith in my falling apart,” I quip.

  “If you didn’t fall apart, you wouldn’t need me,” she snaps back, but she knows that’s a lie.

  “Fine. You’re right, I’ll call when I fall apart on Sunday, five o’clock work for you?” I ask joking.

  “Yep, got you penciled in.” She pauses. “Love you Emmy, it’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks and again, I’m sorry I called so early.”

  When I hang up, I feel much better. Even if the dream does come to mind, it doesn’t cause me to have guilty fe
elings or even blush, so that’s a step in the right direction. I make quick time of getting ready, which is a little easier since I had already pulled out my burgundy knee-length flowing dress to wear with my favorite cowboy boots. I wash my face and apply makeup, all the while glancing at the clock by my bed. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail and rush to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. I will need at least one to get me on my toes for meeting with the florists today.

  I had emailed Trey before I left work yesterday to confirm our appointments with four of the local florists. I know who my preference is, and I hope that it’s the one Trey selects, but it’s important to give him options. He insisted on coming to the Elle E. Grant office to meet me, because he wasn’t planning on going to his office today. Not wanting to push it, I agreed.

  I finish my cup of coffee and grab another for the road. Yeah, it’s going to be one of those days. When I get to my car, I realize that I have random articles of clothing, empty bags and trash scattered throughout. I rush to grab one of the bags and do a half-assed cleanup, tossing everything into my trunk to deal with later. Ryan would be beyond irritated to see what a mess it is, but he’ll never see it this bad since I plan on cleaning it this afternoon. I sit behind the wheel and turn the ignition; the time reads seven fifteen, more than enough time to get to the office. I plug in my iPod and find a song to listen to on the way there. “Lucky” by Jason Mraz fills the car, and I start off for work.

  CHAPTER 12

  Our wedding group at Elle E. Grant probably has the hardest job because, not only are they on a deadline, but they also have to work with bridezillas. I’m so happy that I get to handle the corporate events, even though I’ve helped with a few weddings since I started here.

  Elle asked everyone to come in early today since there are three weddings on Saturday alone. She usually has three employees for each event. I would normally step in, but with Ryan’s arrival tomorrow, it just won’t work. I was more than happy to come in early, but I still won’t be much help since I have an appointment with Trey. I emailed him yesterday to confirm the time, even though I don’t feel it’s necessary for him to be there. This event seems to be really important to him, and since he’s the client, he calls the shots. If he wants to be there for every meeting, with every vendor, then so be it.

  “Emogen.” The sound of my name over the phone on my desks grabs my attention. “Trey Miller is here to see you.”

  “Thank you, Callie.”

  I look over to Cam, who is knee-deep in York-Slayde wedding details. “Cam? We still on for movie night tonight?”

  “Yeah,” she responds automatically, never looking up, “see you later.”

  I pause for a moment, wondering if I should make sure she heard me, but she’s in the zone, and you don’t mess with her when she’s like this. “Alright, see you then.”

  I make my way to the front and notice Callie trying to gain Trey’s attention. She’s a cute, spunky girl, but he doesn’t seem to notice. It’s a shame, because she’s smart and funny, a far cry from the clean-cut girls I imagine he dates. Why am I thinking about the type of girl he dates?

  “Mr. Miller,” I call out, earning a raised eyebrow. “I’m ready when you are.”

  He smirks and I know that he’s annoyed by my use of formal titles. He leads the way and addresses me as he holds the door for me, “Ms. Kane.” I can’t help but feel somewhat awkward being with him. I mean, I just had a really nice dream about him. Not Ryan.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll be driving today,” I inform him, mainly because I need the distraction of the road. “We have several stops to make, and I don’t want you to have to rely on my directions. So if you wouldn’t mind, I have the maps of our stops.” He might know this town better than me, but I know me. If I let him drive, I’ll probably be checking him out the entire time.

  I hand him the paperwork for the locations and his fingers brush mine when he takes them from me. I shudder at the brief contact, loving it and hating it all at once, but I do my best to conceal it. When I look away I feel his eyes on me, so I chance a look in his direction, but he is looking over the list of places we will be visiting.

  “I guess we better get moving,” he says, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Which is your car?”

  I point to my old Acura that still looks new, and as we make our way toward it, I make sure to keep a safe distance from him. As I make my way to the driver’s side, I finally speak, “Hearts and Flowers is expecting us in about thirty minutes. We should have enough time to get there, right?”

  He climbs into the passenger seat and shuts the door before looking at the address. “Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just take a few side streets and avoid the construction on Mason.”

  I give him a tight smile and nod, acknowledging his instruction before turning the ignition. I begin driving out of the office parking lot knowing, at least to a point, where I need to go. The conversation is relegated to a ‘turn here,’ or a ‘make a right at the next light,’ which is fine with me. But I guess that’s not enough for him because he eventually breaks the silence. “Is everything okay, Em?”

  “Yeah,” I answer innocently. “Did I miss a turn or something?”

  “No. I mean, what’s going on? You’re acting a little strange.”

  “I’m fine.” I try hard to sell it.

  “If you say so.” It’s obvious that he’s not convinced, but I’m glad he lets it go. It’s not like I’m going to tell my client, ‘Oh ya know, just started having a sex dream about you this morning, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.’ I laugh at the absurdity and catch him looking at me bemused.

  “Any big plans this weekend?” he asks as a genuine smile that answers for me spreads across my face. “Ah, the fiancé must be visiting.”

  “Yeah, he comes in tomorrow afternoon,” I confirm, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. “I’m going to take a half-day off to be with him.”

  “So he’s okay with us working together?”

  I feel my smile fade and admit the truth. “Actually, he doesn’t know it’s you. It’s not that I think that it’s a big deal, I just don’t want to cause any undue drama.”

  We arrive to the first flower shop and it comes at the perfect time. I don’t enjoy having my life on display, especially with Trey asking the questions. I pull into a parking spot and grab my files so we can meet with Katelyn. I gave her all of the information she needed for this meeting, but I’m less than enthused about this. She has been hard to get a hold of, and when I finally do, she conducts herself in a way I deem unprofessional. We walk into the small shop that is full of fragrant, beautiful flowers but no Katelyn in sight.

  “Hello?” I call out, hoping someone is here.

  “Just a minute,” a low female voice calls out. She sees me and turns her nose. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m looking for Katelyn,” I say, knowing this is her but curious how she’s going to play it off.

  This woman has a huge chip on her shoulder, and I can’t help but wonder if she greets all customers this way. But her attitude changes when Trey comes to stand next to me. Yes, he is a handsome man, but good grief, she acts as if he’s God’s gift to women. She drops her attitude and smiles right at him, ignoring my presence, and extends a well-manicured hand to him. “I’m Katelyn.”

  He shakes her hand as I make introductions and her smile never waivers. She starts on a hard sell about what she can do, and shows us an album of weddings and corporate dinners she has created arrangements for in the past. I’m not too impressed, but the arrangements on display in the shop are beautiful. I don’t know what I expected from meeting her, but I feel less than wowed by her efforts. Trey and I leave, telling her we’ll be in touch. I hope that he has no intention of using her. I put the information she provided in the file and give him the address of the next shop we’re visiting, so he can navigate.

  Fortunately, the drive to Flowers by Jaysen is only ten minutes, which is filled with discussion
of his impression of Katelyn. I’m relieved to know that he thought her lack of preparation was pathetic, and her obvious interest in him laughable. He ended it with some squirrel reference that I didn’t quite get, but he seemed to be amused by.

  When we arrive to the shop, I purposely leave the ‘information’ we received from Katelyn in the car. We won’t need that.

  The flower shop is quaint, but trendy, and as I take the two steps to the entrance a thin, tall and handsome guy greets us at the door. “Emogen?” He cocks his head and squints when he says my name.

  “Yes, and you’re Jaysen.” I extend my hand to shake his and he swats it away, in exchange for a hug. I don’t hug, personal space and all.

  “We’ve talked on the phone so many times, I feel as if we’re already old friends,” he says with a smile when he releases me.

  I return his smile before introducing Trey. “This is Trey Miller, from T.M. Enterprises.”

  “Someone thinks highly of himself, T.M.,” he comments on Trey’s company name, emphasizing his initials. My eyes bug out, shocked by his brazen observation, but Trey just smiles.

  “Great minds, huh?” Trey says with a self-confident shrug, pointing to Jaysen’s sign, in reference the flower shop’s name. I imagine no one has ever said that to his face before, but Trey smiles and shakes his head.

  “Oh yeah, we’re going to get along just fine,” Jaysen says over his shoulder, as he leads us to his office.

  “Emogen already told me that your colors are lilac and brown, so I took the liberty of creating a few centerpiece arrangements to show what I can do. She mentioned that you don’t want oversized arrangements to get in the way of your guests chatting, and I totally agree.”

  “Great,” Trey and I both say in unison, so I nod and he finishes, “let’s have a look.”

  Jaysen gives me a crooked smile and raises his eyebrow in question, and I go wide-eyed. I give him a tight shake of my head, hoping he moves on, and to his credit, he completely reads me. Trey is already ahead of me, so he misses the entire exchange. I follow both of them and gasp when I see what Jaysen has put together. Not only did he work up an arrangement, but he also put together a table, complete with a brown tablecloth and dark lilac napkins. There is a white place setting, with a small name placard thanking the person for their business. And at the center of it all is an understated, yet beautiful flower arrangement. A small square vase contains an assortment of purple flowers, in varying shades, with splashes of cream and brown twigs woven in. It looks amazing, exactly what I envisioned when I told him the look I was going for. I can’t believe he was able to do this based on just our conversations.