And the next step in our campaign to get comfortable with each other had been taken.
At first, as mentioned, I’d semi-panicked.
However, it didn’t take long for it to penetrate that Rix felt good, he smelled good, and bottom line, it felt amazing, lying snug up against him on my couch while watching TV.
So in the end, like everything else I was finding when it came to Rix, it wasn’t hard at all.
This morning, we’d headed out early to get our kayaking in, already having the plan that we’d go our separate ways when we were done so we could shower and get some weekend things accomplished that all this togetherness was delaying us doing.
Therefore, I went home, had lunch, did some light housecleaning, changed the sheets on my bed, went through some mail and paid some bills, then took a shower.
Which led me to now.
The mushrooming freakout.
Because, for the finale to our TQG binge, I’d selected a creamy-beige colored dress with a delicate floral pattern, a drop waist made of a smocked elastic panel and long sleeves with elastic cuffs. It had a flirty skirt that hit a couple of inches above my knees.
I added turquoise and silver jewelry at neck, ears and fingers.
Then came the dusting of powder over my face, a brush of blush to accentuate the sun-kissed color already on my cheeks, and a faint sweep of highlighter, just because my world felt glittery, so I guessed somewhere in the depths of my brain I felt it needed to translate visibly.
A thin layer of liner on my eyes under a shimmer of shadow, just on the lids. A single coat of mascara that, nevertheless on my eyelashes, even I had to admit was a sensation.
I’d washed my hair, and fully styled it, something I hadn’t done since I was back home last Christmas.
This meant more than tying it back in a ponytail or braiding it one way or the other.
Instead, I gave it volume, using product to define and separate my natural loose curls, and leaving it long.
Some nude-peach lip stain with gloss was a finishing touch.
And of course, my perfume, which was Bulgari, given to me originally by my father, but it was the perfect scent for me, so now I bought it for myself.
Last, a pair of high-ish-wedge-heeled, platform, cognac leather strapped sandals.
It was too much.
We were likely eating dinner on Rix’s deck again and watching TV.
Probably cuddling (could I cuddle in a short-ish skirt? Or even…should I?).
Yes, it was too much.
Even if it felt like we were dating, we weren’t.
Even if it hadn’t occurred to me once, not since that text exchange at Gal’s center, that this was pretend, it was.
I needed to clean my face.
And I needed to change.
Fortunately, I’d gotten this wild hair early, so I knew I had time to do both before I had to leave.
I walked out of the bathroom to go to the closet, my gaze going to my alarm clock on the nightstand just to be sure.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Rix’s house.
I was supposed to be there at six.
It was five after five.
Yes.
I had plenty of time.
I just made it to my closet to assess a new outfit when my phone rang in the bathroom.
I had it silence all calls except people I knew, so I headed back to the bathroom to check it, because it was rare when someone called, but it was usually important.
The call was Rix.
My stomach dropped.
Oh no.
He’d only phoned me once, to ask me out to drinks to iron things out during that blip we’d had.
Now, maybe something came up.
And because of that something, maybe he was canceling.
I told myself I didn’t feel devastated by this as I nabbed my phone and took the call.
“Hey, everything okay?” I answered.
“Get your ass here. Now.”
At his tone as well as his command, I stared at my pedestal sink.
“Alexandra?” he growled.
Oh boy.
He didn’t call me Alexandra except on certain occasions, and those occasions were usually when he was being bossy.
And one could say he’d just been pretty freaking bossy.
“Is everything okay?” I asked hesitantly.
“Ass. Here. Now.”
And then he hung up.
Well one thing I knew about that.
I was going to have to go with this outfit.
Because apparently, I didn’t have time to change.
Chapter 12
The Drama
Alex
I didn’t take it as a good sign when I traversed the side path that led to his front steps that Rix was standing in his opened door, arms crossed on his massive chest, scowling at my approach.
On the drive there, belatedly, it occurred to me that an adjusted woman might be miffed at Rix’s Ass. Here. Now. demand. A dramatic woman might be gearing up to throw a tantrum. And an enlightened woman would be justifiably outraged.
I hadn’t settled on which one of those I was going to be (though, I’d tossed out drama, because I wasn’t a tantrum-throwing person).