Ivey Pierce is an explorer, and thanks to her career as a wildlife biologist, she does not stay stationary for long. But when her parents die in a terrible accident, and her childhood home is left vacant for two years, she returns to the tattered me...
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I TOSSED AND TURNED all night. One minute I thought about Weston's lips on mine and his fingers trailing over my body, then the next, I thought about my flight back to Washington and how I broke my moral code when I kissed him.
I had to tell Wes I was leaving before things became messy—if they weren't already. And the fact the fundraiser was two days away made me nauseous.
The power turned back on in the early morning, and I sat on my porch watching the sun rise with my second cup of coffee. After yesterday, the world was silent. The water in the bay sat motionless, and residual rain dripped from leaves as the sun tried breaking through the clouds.
My phone pinged with a text from a random number. Hey, Ivey! It's Zoe. I am back in town for the fundraiser and wanted to know if you had anything to wear.
My forehead burned. Hi, Zoe! I am still deciding what I'm wearing.
Perfect, let's go shopping. Are you free today? I can swing by and pick you up.
Another text came through. Oh, by the way, it's just you and me.
I looked across the water toward Weston's dark house.
Why did I feel guilty for talking to Zoe? Hell—I knew her before Weston, but that was beside the point. I assumed they finally spoke after the fiasco the other night, and maybe that was why she was texting me. So, I agreed to go and started getting ready.
A half-hour later, I slid into her passenger seat, greeting her. She handed me a coffee and bagel and grinned ear to ear. "Good morning! I got these for you." Compared to me, Zoe was the perfect coastal girl in light blue and white linens. Her black hair was pin straight, and retro-round framed sunglasses decorated her face.
"Good morning. Thank you, that's very kind." I said, my mouth salivating at the smell.
Zoe lifted her half-eaten bagel from the center console, took a bite, and brushed crumbs off her white pants. I held back laughter because I never expected her to do that.
"How do you feel about getting the heck out of here? We can head to the boutiques inland. They have better dresses, anyway."
Relief filled my body. Zoe pulled into a parking spot adjacent to the bar Weston and I drank at earlier this month. Stores and restaurants lined the waterfront, and the bridge that took you directly to Clifton stood in the distance.
"Do you have any ideas of what type of dress you want?"
"Not a clue. Do you have a dress yet?"
She shook her head. "None that I like."
At the first store we entered, the staff offered champagne—which I gladly took— and we were escorted to a sitting area in the back with white plush cushions and mirrors. A crystal chandelier gleamed above us, fresh bouquets adorned most of the tables, and I wondered what massive hole would form in my pocket after purchasing a dress from there.
