Caught Up in Us by Lauren Blakely Read Free Book Online

for, or if she was a middleman for herself.
“That would be amazing. May I ask which stores or which
buyers?”
    She waved a hand
as if to say let’s not go
there . “Don’t worry about that. My
connections are good.”
    I wanted to know more, but if she
was taking a chance on me, I’d have to take a chance on her. We
discussed more of the specifics, the cut she’d receive of sales,
her plans for showing my line around, and her vision for how women
around the country would be giving and getting these necklaces as
gifts come holiday time. I mentally crossed my fingers because
maybe, just maybe, this could help me help my parents.
    “Now, you said I could see more of
your designs.”
    I opened my purse and took out my
latest necklaces that showcased an array of charms.
    She nodded and touched each one.
“Some of your designs have a modern and sleek look. But others have
a sort of European sensibility. Where do your inspirations come
from?”
    “Definitely from Paris. I lived
there for a year.”
    “Ah, the most wonderful city in
the world,” she said to me in French.
    “There is nothing better,” I
replied in the same language, and we talked more about our favorite
places in Paris. I told her I adored the shopping in the Marais,
and that my heart would always be in Montmartre with its curvy,
cobblestoned streets, but that the best deals were to be found at
the open-air markets. “The jewelry there, the charms and trinkets,
and the things you never thought could be charms, like tiny little
keys, are a total steal.”
    “You are a woman after my own
heart. I love shopping at the open-air markets with the fruit and
flower vendors and vintage jewelry sellers as much as I love the
Champs-Élysées.”
    Then, she excused herself for the
ladies room. As I waited for her return, I noticed a sharply
dressed man enter the restaurant and walk towards a woman with wavy
auburn hair. She lifted her face to him. He leaned down and kissed
her, a long slow hold. I started writing their backstory. This
red-haired beauty and this well-dressed man must be newly in love
with just a handful of dizzying dates behind them, I surmised, as
he kissed her one more time. Or maybe they were each other’s first
love back when they were younger. Maybe they met when she was fresh
out of high school and he was a newly minted business grad. Maybe
they fell in mad love five years ago, and never fell out. Maybe
they were still crazy about each other to this day, and kissed
every time as if it were the first time.
    Ha. The whole scenario sounded
implausible. Besides, those kind of kisses only happened in the
movies.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Bryan’s sleek black car with
tinted windows was parked outside my building at nine on the dot
the next morning. Even more impressive than the punctuality was the
consideration — the car wasn’t idling. The engine was off. Most
drivers left the cars running while picking someone up, and,
frankly, I couldn’t stand that. I’d have to compliment his
driver.
    Then Bryan stepped out of the car,
wearing dark jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a tie with
cartoonish giraffes on them.
    “Oh.”
    “Did the
giraffes surprise you?”
    “No. I just thought you were
sending a car. I didn’t know you’d be in the car.”
    “Since I need to go to Philly too,
I figured I could bum a ride with you. That okay?” he asked
playfully.
    “Of course.”
    He held the door open, and I slid
into the car. I smoothed out the soft folds on my green skirt as
the driver turned on the engine and we pulled away.
    “Glad to see you
weren’t idling,” I said in an effort to be civil.
    “If I were president, I’d sign a
bill forbidding idling at the curb.”
    I smiled despite myself.
“Especially for people checking their phones.”
    “Oh, well,
idling and checking your phone would get you a jail term under my
regime.”
    “You run a tight
dictatorship.” I kept up the volley because I could do better than
mere civility.