She furrows her brows and moves her hands in front of her face, “What the hell? Don’t you know how to wake someone up. You never do shit like this,” she grumbles in a half-asleep state.
“Gemma, you’re late to the conference!” I speak louder, more clear, hoping it’ll get through to her.
Suddenly, her eyes are wide open and she’s staring at the ceiling wearing a ‘seriously’ expression across her face. “My own fault. I forgot to set my alarm last night. Do you have something I can wear? I’m so sorry to keep mooching your clothes, but I’m already late and I want to get there as soon as possible. My brother is going to give me hell to pay, that’s for sure.”
“Of course, let me rummage through my closet really quick and find something. What size shoe are you?” I ask, going straight into my walk-in closet. I have it organized by season and color, so I should be able to find something relatively quickly. Throwing open the door, I walk inside and turn on the light switch.
“I’m a nine,” Gemma calls back, causing me to laugh. “Hey, what’s so funny? I know I have big feet, but—”
“I’m laughing because I’m a nine as well. Looks like we can share clothes and shoes. We’re a dream couple.”
Oh god. Did I really just call us a dream couple? I’m probably going to scare her away if I keep making remarks like this. “Yeah, it’ll make swapping clothes really easy.” Gemma giggles from directly behind me, causing me to jump. I had no idea she got out of bed. This one has the grace of a jaguar, I tell you.
“So, is this thing super upscale, business casual, or what?”
“Business casual, but most people wear athletic brands, people that sponsor them and whatnot.”
“Ah, so what’re you looking for? Business casual or athletic?” I question, not sure if she really made it clear or not.
“It doesn’t matter. If you have something athletic, it’ll make me fit in a little bit more. Hell, I could even make up some bullshit excuse to my brother saying I went to check out some local gyms.”
“Is your brother the guy you were talking to last night?” He’s still burned into my mind. With those chiseled cheekbones and broad shoulders, how could he not? Good looks must run in her family.
“Yeah, that’s Braxton. He goes by Brax’ for short.”
“Cool. Well, hopefully he’ll cut you a little bit of slack.” I say as I pull open a drawer and grab her a pair of black leggings that scrunch up at the butt, a black sports bra with a fuchsia jacket to pull it all together.
“Yeah, probably. He’s not normally so anal, but when it comes to business obligations, he can get quite the stick up his butt.”
“I think everyone is that way. It’s only natural. When it comes to my work, I take it super serious, too.”
Gemma strips down naked in front of me and then slides into my clothes, and yet again she looks better in something than I do. “What?”
“What do you mean what?” I laugh.
“You’re staring.”
“Am I not allowed to stare?” I question, closing in on the distance between us. I purposefully rake my eyes from her feet, over her slender legs, to her thicker thighs and hips. Slowly I venture upward, staring at her hourglass figure, her small chest and finally gaze right into her eyes.
“You can stare as long as you want,” Gemma says with a scratchy voice.
“I intend to, and I really want to do a lot more than just stare.” I rasp out.
Gemma slides her arms in the sleeves of the fuchsia jacket, “I really want to grab a raincheck. I have to get to the conference and you know I’m really late. Can we meet up after? Around 7?”
Dammit. I can’t meet her. “I have to go get Kaia from her father’s at six. I’m sorry.” I frown, genuinely upset we can’t see each other again tonight.
Gemma takes hold of my hand and gives me an encouraging squeeze, “It’s alright. We’re just getting started. I . . . really am growing fond of you and I’d love to see where this goes. I travel a lot for work, and I’m in Los Angeles a few times a month. I’ll be back in two weeks if you’re free?”
“I’ll make sure I am,” my smile grows before I can stop it.
“Awesome. You have my number and I have yours. I’ll text you later once things settle down.” Gemma’s promise makes butterflies soar through my stomach at the thought. She glances down at her outfit, seeing the GM embroidered with stitching. “GM, is that for Greer Mackenzie?”
“Yep, she’s a good friend of mine. I took a few classes with her in college, so she sends me some of her upcoming season’s launches before they hit the stores.” I reply. Greer is such a good friend of mine. It’s been years since I’ve seen her and I miss her dearly. From what I’ve heard, she’s living her real life happily-ever-after. And hell, maybe I will be too very soon.
Chapter Eleven
Gemma
“Where on earth have you been?” Brax’ questions me the moment I stroll through the lobby of the hotel after texting him I’d be there in ten minutes.
“I overslept, Brax’. Come on, it’s not like it hasn’t happened to you before.”
Brax’ cocks a brow at me, casting judgement as any of my brothers would. I get he’s disappointed in me, but he needs to realize we’re all humans. It’s not like we’re robotic machines that can be programmed to wake up at a certain time. Hell, I’m sure if I set my alarm at the right time things would’ve been great . . . but I’m not going to tell him I forgot to set my alarm.
Just as I’m about to add to what I said, my phone vibrates and I glance down to see an unfamiliar number. Figuring it could be spam, I immediately open my messages and as I read the message in front of me, it’s a little hard to believe this is even real.
From: Colton
Gemma, I heard you were in town. I have something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you after hearing the rumor mill going. When you can, reach back out and we’ll set a meeting up for today.
“I . . . Brax’, I just got a text from Colton.”
“Colton?” He says the name like it’s a question, but he should know which Colton I’m talking about. There’s only one who is of somewhat relevance in the racing community.
“Colton Donovan, Brax’. He wants to meet me. He’s in Los Angeles and saw from my Instagram post today that I’m in town.”
“God. Why would he want to meet with you?” Brax’ questions, and I smack his arm at the slight jab he just made.
“Don’t be an asshole. It’s never been a good look on you, and you damn well know it.” I quip, not really in the mood for his jokes right now.
“You think he’s heard you’re trying to get into racing?” Brax’ questions.
I mean. It’s possible, but I doubt someone like Colton Donovan would even give a damn about me. Why would he? I’m just some random woman. I think I met him once or twice because of Dad’s career, but nothing that would’ve made him remember one of Ricky Storm’s dorky little daughters. Whoa. Hold up a second. “How the hell do you know a damn thing about that?”