It's Never Easy - Boudreaux Universe

The desire from his kiss was apparent. He wants me just like I want him. But is that enough to fight the ghosts that he’s holding onto? Is it enough to fight the demons that so clearly plague him daily?

I can’t even make sense of the paintings. The purple and black, the colors that were so passionately thrown onto the canvas and melded as if two lovers were entwined together. There was something visceral about it.

Sighing, I pull open the zipper to find the dress he bought for me to wear. And when I pull it out, I can’t stop the gasp that tumbles from me. I had seen it earlier, but now that it’s free of its confines, I can’t help but really take it in. The bodice has been embroidered with small diamonds that shimmer when the light catches it.

“This is breathtaking,” I tell myself, wondering if I’d be able to pull off something so elegant. I’m not one of those poised women that seem to be born in dresses like this. I’m a tomboy at best, with jeans and tees being my clothing of choice. This is on the other end of the spectrum.

I quickly change, realizing its late. And when I pull on the undergarment, the silken material caresses my skin. I can’t wear a bra with this, so I take mine off. Thankfully, I don’t really need one since I’m not all that big up top. I can’t help smiling when I finally pull on the sheer material, and the outfit comes together.

In the corner of the office, I notice a full-length mirror that wasn’t there yesterday, and I realize Julian must have put it there for me. Stepping in front of the glass, I take in my figure, hugged by the sleek design. I look like someone else. Taking my hair, I attempt to pin it up into an elegant style with the hairpins I have in my purse. Allowing a few tendrils to hang free, they frame my face. Next, I pick out my small makeup pouch and add some liner along with eyeshadow, which is a deep purple, hoping it won’t look too goth for Julian and his fancy friends.

Lastly, I grab the box he’d brought into the office earlier and open it. Inside are a pair of shimmery silver pumps that don’t have too high a heel, and I feel like running out of here to thank him. I’m not great in heels, so these are perfect. I slip the shoes on and take a final look at myself in the mirror.

Twirling around, I take in every angle as a smile tilts my lips. If he kissed me earlier, perhaps I can impress him tonight. Can I even break through those high walls he has up?

The memory of his words to me hits me right in the chest, “Do you allow people in?” He’s right; I’ve closed myself for so long I haven’t had a proper relationship with anyone. My father walked out, my mother died, and all I was left with was heartache. Even though I had guys in college, it wasn’t serious. None of them were because I knew the moment I let someone in, they’d only leave. They’d only walk away just like my dad did.

Talk about daddy issues.

Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath and open the office door. As I make my way down the hall, I come into the kitchen to find Julian nursing a beer. He looks up the moment I step into the room, and I notice how his dark eyes widen as he drinks me in along with the bubbly alcohol he’s swigging.

“Thank you for the outfit,” I tell him. I’m not sure what to say after what happened outside, and I suddenly feel shy. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel anything, and yet, even after a week, Julian has made me feel almost every emotion I could think of.

“It suits you,” he tells me. “I wasn’t sure if a dress would be right for you, but . . .” His words filter off, his eyes still lingering on me, from my toes to the top of my head.

“But?” I step closer to him, wanting him to open up, to tell me what’s going on in that mind of his. I don’t close the distance between us because even as I stand opposite him with the counter between us, I can feel the need sizzling in the air. It hangs heavily, as if it’s a thick cloud that’s always going to hover just out of reach.

“But you scrub up well.” His gruff tone is the only indication he’s affected by me. By how I look.

“So do you, Mr. Elliot.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but just then the doorbell rings, and I realize it must be the caterer for the event. Instead of waiting for him, I go to open the door, allowing them to set up what they need.