What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

A ham and cheese croissant and a soda are set in front of me and I glance up to find Jackson’s wife standing beside and above me. I beam and pop to my feet. “Adrianna!” I greet her, giving her a big hug. “So good to see you.” I give her boots, sweater, and jeans a once over—all worn with style to die for—and add, “You’re as gorgeous as ever.” Which is true. Adrianna is tall, which means she doesn’t have short legs like me, with striking model-worthy cheekbones, long full hair, and the most beautiful skin.

“Says the gorgeous girl herself,” she replies, “and thank you. I’m so happy you’re here. Your mom hasn’t been in forever. We have to lure her back to the sweet spot. Should I send her cupcakes?”

There’s a pinch in my chest at the mention of my mother, but I push past it and say, “She’d love that, but she’s off on a vacation with my step-father right now. When she gets back, I’ll bring her in.”

“Excellent,” she approves. “She and I need to catch up.” She waves at Dash.

“Hi, Adrianna,” he says warmly.

“Write that damn book,” she orders him, and then to me, she points at the table. “Eat. You’re skinny. I remember you having more meat on your bones. You have room to grow, I promise honey. I’ll bring your coffee and cupcake here in just a few minutes.” She starts to turn and I catch her arm. “I distracted Dash. I made his coffee get cold. Can you bring him another on me?”

She glances at him and then me. “It’s on the house.” She winks and rushes away.

I settle back down into my seat and say, “Write the damn book. I’ll eat in silence.”

“Read it and tell me what’s wrong.”

“No,” I say. “That’s a mistake. Follow your process. Why break it for me?”

“How many people could I ask, that have the skills and knowledge of the book, to be able to do this for me?”

I lean forward. “You know how to write a book. I can’t tell you that. If it’s not magic, go back to the beginning and start there. You’ll figure out what’s wrong.” I pick up my fork and cut a bite of the sandwich, “Have you tried these? They’re so good.”

“I just had one,” he says, but he’s preoccupied with what I’ve told him. “Maybe I will reread it.”

“When’s your deadline?”

“Three months. I have time. If I get my shit together.”

I motion to the computer. “Read.”

His cellphone rings and he snags it from his pocket. “My agent,” he says. “Otherwise known as my sister. She does it all these days. I’ll be right back.” He stands and walks away, but the earthy wonderful scent of him lingers.

Oh how easily I’m affected by everything about him. I’m in trouble with Dash if I’m not careful. And I’m not foolish enough to pretend I’m not a little vulnerable right now. Which is how I got in trouble once before. Timing matters. This is also why I’d like to eat my food while he’s gone and not watching me make a mess. Turns out I have plenty of time. I finish off my scrumptious croissant just as he returns.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “She likes to yell. A lot.”

“Isn’t that what sisters are for?”

“I suppose it is,” he says. “Do you have siblings?”

“I do not,” I say. “But I’ve seen how you sibling teams roll. Does she represent your father as well?”

“We’re half-siblings. He’s not her father and they don’t get along. So, no. She doesn’t represent my father.” There’s a sharpness to his tone at this reply that I don’t take offensively at all. It’s not about me. It does tell a story, that it would be inappropriate for me to ask for now. “Is your father here?” he asks.

“No,” I say, and I can almost feel myself clam up, a little as he did. “New York. He lives in New York.”

His eyes register my reaction and he says, “I’ll leave that alone. Tell me something I don’t know about you, Allie.”

There’s something about this man saying my name that does funny things to my belly. “I love country music, chocolate, books, coffee, cupcakes, and high heels.”

His lips curve. “Good choices. I too like country music, chocolate, books, coffee, cupcakes, and high heels. Just not on me.”

I laugh and there is this easy comfort between us that I really don’t know that I’ve ever experienced with a man, that defies how attracted I am to him. “I don’t think that would suit the assassin-writing author image.”

He smiles and it’s truly a charming smile. It’s right then that Jackson reappears with two coffees and sets them on the table. One of his staff slides a cupcake next to me and takes the cold coffee sitting next to Dash. “You two enjoy,” he says, smiling his goodbye and departing.