Last week I posted an edited version of secret admirer, something I originally wrote back in November. The update (part 1) is a bit cleaned up, slightly altered, and has become the start of a longer story. This is part 2 (I recommend starting with part 1). I’m still sort of making this up as I go… but I’m pretty sure I have an angle now. ♥
“Hi.” I could barely speak. He sent the flowers. Oh God.
“This is for you…” He handed me the lovely deep red flower.
“Does it go with the others?” I don’t know why I felt the need to confirm. I knew the answer.
I adored his forthright honesty. No hesitation. His gift may have been anonymous, but he wasn’t shy about owning it.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I would have been concerned about blushing like a teenager with a crush if my cheeks weren’t already pink from my workout.
“You’re welcome. I thought I owed you something beautiful to look at… since you give me that every day.”
Fuck, he is charming. Maybe too charming. Oh, who am I kidding? I love it. And I have no idea how to respond to him. I smiled. And said nothing.
“Do you have a few minutes?”
“For…?” Whatever it is, I hope it takes more than a few minutes. Oh my God! What am I thinking? Damn damn damn. His smile is fucking gorgeous.
“Whatever you want…”
God help me. Too many thoughts. Speechless again.
“I’ll buy you a smoothie…” He smiled and almost laughed at his own suggestion.
Damn, he’s adorable, too. Jesus, look at that expression on his beautiful face.
“Meet me back here in a few minutes?”
He nodded and I disappeared into the locker room. Cleaned up and clothes changed, I stared at myself in the mirror. Am I fucking insane? I am married. Maybe he is, too. Oh, it’s okay. It’s just a drink. I am not going to ravage him at the juice bar. I don’t think. Damn. But… but… I barely have a husband. Okay, that justifies nothing. But gym-guy is gorgeous. Oh my God. Stop!
When I was satisfied with my hair, I reached for my bag. And when I did, I paused and stared at my own hand. It was a matter of habit slipping my wedding rings back onto my finger after my workout. But gorgeous gym-guy has never seen them. Fuck. I stared at my hand for what felt like a very long time. And then, finally, I slipped my rings off and shoved them in my pocket.
To be continued…