I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven p.m.
Nettie pressed the phone to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. A soft laugh broke free—half sob, half sigh of relief—while her pulse drummed like a song she knew by heart. She hugged the phone tighter, rocking on her heels in the middle of the breakroom, too giddy to stand still.
Tomorrow at seven.
She didn’t care about the comments, the trolls, the flood of strangers invading her tiny online world. All that mattered washim. His words. His promise. As of now, she was officially Tate Cassidy’s girl, and they were going on a date tomorrow night.
Leaving work behind, rushing home from the daycare, Nettie had never been so excited in her entire life. She knew Tate was going to bring his A-game. He’d promised, he’d hinted, and now that moment was here… well, in forty minutes or so.
She had laid out her prettiest dress, hoping to knock his socks off, and kept her hair in a bun so that way, it wouldn’t get tangled, stayed somewhat nice, and wouldn’t end up with some weird sticky mess that was unidentifiable from a rogue grubby hand. If it was sticky, she’d removed it from fabric or hair at some point in her career.
Racing into the house, she threw her purse on the couch but left her shoes on after injuring her toe a few weeks ago. Yeah, that was not happening again. She padded quickly to her bedroom, stripping off her clothing as she went, in an effort to get ready ultra-fast.
It was probably a good thing no one was here to see her, because she was running behind and doing what Shannon dubbed a ‘hoe-bath’ in the sink – pits and privates – just to freshen up. Risking her perfectly coiffed hair after washing it last night, blowing it out straight with a smoothing serum, flat ironing it, then using a curling iron to give it a little flip and tame any flyaways… yeah, she was not risking a shower.
A little baby powder, fresh deodorant in key places, a spritz of perfume – then it was on to the makeup.
She swiped a thin pad over her nose, cheeks, and forehead, applying a small amount of pressed powder before pinching hercheeks. Some eyeliner, frantically fanning her eyeballs as she accidentally stabbed herself with the pencil, sneezing, and then trying once more before giving up.
In fact, her eye was watering so much that she skipped mascara altogether. A swipe of lipstick, carefully unwinding her bun and letting her hair lay on her shoulders – if a person squinted hard enough – she could be mistaken for a supermodel…
On another planet.
Nettie sighed, letting her shoulders slump.
Miss America, I got lost along the way,she thought, drawing in a deep breath and freezing as there was a knock at the front door.
“Coming!” she shouted, almost kicking off her shoes and opting to wear her sneakers to the door, before knocking them off quickly with a one-two flop and slipping into a pair of black heels she had waiting. Yanking open the door, she did a double-take. There was a man standing there in a black suit, black hat, white gloves, and holding an umbrella – and it wasn’t even raining. “Uh, can I help you?”
“Miss Yarborough?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Edwin and I’ll be escorting you to your dinner reservations…” and as she spoke, she saw Tate standing beside the limousine in the distance, looking dazzling. He was wearing a stunning black suit tailored to fit him in a way that made his shoulders look so wide, his legs so long, and if possible – it made his dark eyes glitter like black ice.
Was that possible?She thought silently as she gulped in understanding of what was happening. When he said she would know if they went on a date–then he meant it.
She. Would. Know.
“Um, let me get my coat,” she stammered and turned away, only to hear Edwin’s voice again.
“Not necessary, Miss Yarborough. Mr. Cassidy has arranged for that as well,” that lofty nasally voice which would normally be irritating was actually comforting as he smiled at her – and nodded to his free hand without the umbrella. In his hand was a long wool coat with a fuzzy collar.
“I don’t wear fur…” she hesitated, and Edwin smiled.
“Mr. Cassidy said you would say that,” he replied politely. “It’s designed to look like it, but I assure you, it’s as close as possible without any animals being injured in the process.”
“Oh,” she whispered numbly, feeling like a fool stumbling around in a cloudy haze. He bought her a new coat – a fancy new coat? She glanced at Tate – and saw his cool expression falter as he removed his hands from his pockets and started toward them, realizing there was an issue.
A big issue.
Or at least in her mind there was…
Nettie hesitated, feeling nervous and lowly, like she was beneath him. She was not dressed to go someplace fancy, even wearing her nicest of things – and now he was supplying her with a new coat?
“Edwin,” Tate began tersely and took the coat from the driver. “We’ll meet you at the door in a moment.”
“Certainly, sir,” Edwin replied in that lofty voice.
