He nods solemnly. “They absolutely do.”
“Who exactly is this mysterious ‘they’ you speak of?” I can’t help yanking his chain a little more. Some women get turned on by the dark-and-dangerous types, but I’ve always had a soft spot for the gorgeous-and-goofy ones. It’s a soft spot Garrett is exploiting to his advantage right now and I find myself relaxing despite myself. “And why should I care what they have to say anyway?”
For several long seconds, he pretends to ponder the question. Then smiles as he answers, “Now that you mention it, I have absolutely no idea.”
“Kind of stupid to quote them then, isn’t it?”
“It really is.”
We stand there smiling into each other’s eyes for several long seconds, and there’s a weird kind of buzz in the air—like neither of us can believe that we’re standing here having this ridiculous conversation. And enjoying it so much.
Eventually, though, something has to give. We can’t stand on the porch all night, after all. “Would you like to come in?” I ask, stepping back and holding the front door a little wider in invitation.
Before he can answer, there’s a small cough from the sidewalk at the bottom of my steps.
Garrett flushes a little, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the most endearing thing I’d seen in quite a while.
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“You can’t?” I glance from him to the two bodyguards waiting on the sidewalk behind him—the same bodyguards who hassled me at the lake the other day. “Do you need a chaperone?”
“I need to let my security detail search your house. But since that’s just rude, especially on the first date, I was hoping to convince you—”
“Is that what this is? A first date?”
He sighs, a little exasperated. “It will be, if you let me ask you out. And if you say yes.”
This is the worst possible time for a date—first or otherwise. I have a million things to do before tomorrow. And I just told myself that I wasn’t going to spend any more time thinking about Gorgeous Garrett. But that was before he literally showed up on my doorstep and charmed my socks off with his ridiculousness. I’m not looking for a relationship by any stretch of the imagination, but one night out with a guy who is as amusing as he is gorgeous? It’s hard to say anything but “Hell, yes.”
“Hell, yes?” His eyebrows shoot up again. “Hell, yes, I can ask you? Or hell yes, you’ll go out with me? I just want to clarify—”
Figuring we’ll be here all day if I don’t take matters into my own hands, I push onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss right on his open mouth. It shuts him up, as intended, and I pull away, planning to give him a hard time.
But I’m not the only one with initiative, because the next thing I know, his arms are around me and I’m seeing fireworks—of the New-Year’s-Eve-and-Fourth-of-July-all-rolled-into-one variety.
His mouth is just soft enough to have me melting, just hard enough to have me pushing back onto my tiptoes and sinking into the long, lean strength of him. And his hands on my back—strong, sure, secure—feel so, so good.
My head is spinning by the time he pulls away—definitely not my typical modus operandi when it comes to kisses from men, no matter how hot they are. He looks a little dazed himself, his eyes just a bit blurry with the heat generated between us.
“So,” he says after several long seconds. “Dinner.”
“Yes, dinner. Absolutely.” I hate how frazzled I sound. I’m the one who does the frazzling, not the one who gets frazzled. But the longer Gorgeous Garrett stands there staring at me, the more nervous I get.
To solve the problem, I take a big step back. Then another and another, until I can no longer feel his body heat or hear the ragged sound of his breathing.
“I’ll just…go get ready,” I tell him, forcing a breezy smile I’m far from feeling. “Have a seat—if you can find one.”
He glances back at his bodyguards and I realize they probably won’t be too keen on having him walk into a building they haven’t checked out. I should invite them in too, but the idea of four men in my place—three of whom will be snooping around it—doesn’t exactly sit right with me. So I add, “Or you can hang out on the porch. The swing’s pretty comfortable and I promise not to take too long.”
He nods, his eyes going laser sharp again as he registers all the things I’m not saying. “You’re worth the wait.”
It doesn’t sound like a line, not with all the quiet sincerity he’s got going on. That—and his steady, knowing gaze—freaks me out even more than the fireworks did. For a second I think about calling the whole thing off.
But I don’t.
Instead, I hurry back to my bedroom and throw on the first decent thing I come to—a pair of black silk Versace pants and a matching shell. Garrett is in a suit, so I add a Gaultier jacket, partly to dress up the outfit and partly for the intrinsic edge it brings. A quick glance in the mirror shows I look more like the badass stepsister than I do Cinderella—thank God—so I finish the look with winged eyeliner and a sweep of angsty red across my lips. The clock says I’m at five minutes and counting, not bad if I do say so myself, so I take an extra two to try and tame my ridiculous hair into some kind of submission.
The curls aren’t having it, though, so in the end I settle for running a little bit of styling cream through them and letting them spring free—hoping against hope that, for a change of pace, the wind won’t kick up tonight while we’re out. And if it does…well, it’s not like this whole date is any more than wish fulfillment for the seven-year-old Disney princess inside of me.