The Panty Dropper (Valentine's Love in the City Short) by Liv Morris Page B
Authors: Liv Morris
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he says. “It clearly says 614 not 814 on the front.”
My eyes glance over the envelope and it’s clear that the flowers were supposed to be delivered to my apartment, 614, not his.
Staring at the lone apartment numbers on the front, I realize my name wasn’t written on it... just the numbers, which is odd, as he knew my first name. Since we’ve never met, he must have opened the envelope to look at the card inside.
“Do you mind?” I ask while reaching for the envelope. Once in my hands, I turn it around to the back, and sure enough it’s been opened. I pull the card out, dreading to see what I already suspect is on the little piece of cardstock. The words jump out at me, making my face turn a deep red, not quite the color of the roses, but pretty damn close. They’re from my father. He’s given me flowers on Valentine’s Day since I was a young girl.
I cringe even more as I read over the card.
Dear Emily,
Will you be my Valentine?
I love and miss you,
Dad.
Holy crap!
After a few more moments of silence, I look up to see Ethan’s eyes focused on my face. Relief rushes over me as I see him smiling all sweet and sexy.
“My dad,” I say shyly while raising the card. “He does this for me every year.”
“That’s really cool,” he responds sincerely. “Sounds like a great guy.”
“He is, but it’s rather embarrassing.”
We’re now leaning against my entry wall facing one another. He’s looking at me and I’m looking at him, both of us smiling. It feels nice, different. I’ve almost forgotten that I’m decked out like a slob. In this moment, it doesn’t seem to matter.
“I guess it gives your boyfriend a little competition.” His words end almost like a question. “He has to top dear old Dad.”
“Boyfriend? I wish.” Wait, did I just say that? My eyes immediately fall to the ground, but his slight laugh brings them up again.
“So, no boyfriend?” This time he asks a definite question like he cares whether I’m dating someone. Oh good God. Would someone please pinch me?
“Nope.” I say with a stupid pop to the “p.” But that makes him smile even more and I see this little dimple on his left cheek. I stare at it and bite my lip to hold myself back because he’s beyond gorgeous.
“Well, here are your flowers.” He moves the roses toward me. I want to touch his fingers when we make the exchange. Just a little touch. Who knows if I’ll ever have this chance with him again?
I place my forefinger over his pinky and glide my finger against his as I grasp the flowers. His composure stiffens, but more out of surprise than retreat. Hmmm... I think we have cause and effect here.
“Thanks,” I reply after the flowers are safely in my hand. “I appreciate you bringing them down to me.”
“No problem,” he says as he moves away from the wall and toward the door. “Guess I better head back upstairs.”
I want to scream, DON’T GO! Instead, I start to follow his movements as he approaches the door.
“Thanks again.” I throw out a couple of words to keep the conversation going, hoping that maybe he’ll stay a few seconds longer. His fingers cover the doorknob and he starts to turn it.
Damn, he’s leaving. I feel my face turning into a full blown pout. Attractive, no doubt.
He pulls the door open in a super slow manner. So slow it has to be deliberate. My heart nearly skips a beat as it hopes...
Then his movement stops and he turns around to face me. There’s a slight smirk on his lips.
Oh please, oh please, I silently plead. Ask me anything.
“I’m not sure what you have planned tonight.” He pauses as his eyes scan over my clothes likely assessing what I’m wearing or not wearing. Definitely not “going out” threads.
“Well,” he continues. “I bought some food to cook on the way home. Nothing fancy. Just pasta. Would you like to come up for dinner in about an hour? I need to get the place presentable.”
And there it is. Plain as the nose on my
My eyes glance over the envelope and it’s clear that the flowers were supposed to be delivered to my apartment, 614, not his.
Staring at the lone apartment numbers on the front, I realize my name wasn’t written on it... just the numbers, which is odd, as he knew my first name. Since we’ve never met, he must have opened the envelope to look at the card inside.
“Do you mind?” I ask while reaching for the envelope. Once in my hands, I turn it around to the back, and sure enough it’s been opened. I pull the card out, dreading to see what I already suspect is on the little piece of cardstock. The words jump out at me, making my face turn a deep red, not quite the color of the roses, but pretty damn close. They’re from my father. He’s given me flowers on Valentine’s Day since I was a young girl.
I cringe even more as I read over the card.
Dear Emily,
Will you be my Valentine?
I love and miss you,
Dad.
Holy crap!
After a few more moments of silence, I look up to see Ethan’s eyes focused on my face. Relief rushes over me as I see him smiling all sweet and sexy.
“My dad,” I say shyly while raising the card. “He does this for me every year.”
“That’s really cool,” he responds sincerely. “Sounds like a great guy.”
“He is, but it’s rather embarrassing.”
We’re now leaning against my entry wall facing one another. He’s looking at me and I’m looking at him, both of us smiling. It feels nice, different. I’ve almost forgotten that I’m decked out like a slob. In this moment, it doesn’t seem to matter.
“I guess it gives your boyfriend a little competition.” His words end almost like a question. “He has to top dear old Dad.”
“Boyfriend? I wish.” Wait, did I just say that? My eyes immediately fall to the ground, but his slight laugh brings them up again.
“So, no boyfriend?” This time he asks a definite question like he cares whether I’m dating someone. Oh good God. Would someone please pinch me?
“Nope.” I say with a stupid pop to the “p.” But that makes him smile even more and I see this little dimple on his left cheek. I stare at it and bite my lip to hold myself back because he’s beyond gorgeous.
“Well, here are your flowers.” He moves the roses toward me. I want to touch his fingers when we make the exchange. Just a little touch. Who knows if I’ll ever have this chance with him again?
I place my forefinger over his pinky and glide my finger against his as I grasp the flowers. His composure stiffens, but more out of surprise than retreat. Hmmm... I think we have cause and effect here.
“Thanks,” I reply after the flowers are safely in my hand. “I appreciate you bringing them down to me.”
“No problem,” he says as he moves away from the wall and toward the door. “Guess I better head back upstairs.”
I want to scream, DON’T GO! Instead, I start to follow his movements as he approaches the door.
“Thanks again.” I throw out a couple of words to keep the conversation going, hoping that maybe he’ll stay a few seconds longer. His fingers cover the doorknob and he starts to turn it.
Damn, he’s leaving. I feel my face turning into a full blown pout. Attractive, no doubt.
He pulls the door open in a super slow manner. So slow it has to be deliberate. My heart nearly skips a beat as it hopes...
Then his movement stops and he turns around to face me. There’s a slight smirk on his lips.
Oh please, oh please, I silently plead. Ask me anything.
“I’m not sure what you have planned tonight.” He pauses as his eyes scan over my clothes likely assessing what I’m wearing or not wearing. Definitely not “going out” threads.
“Well,” he continues. “I bought some food to cook on the way home. Nothing fancy. Just pasta. Would you like to come up for dinner in about an hour? I need to get the place presentable.”
And there it is. Plain as the nose on my
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