That would give me plenty of time to shower the warehouse dust away. Maybe I ought to have a bubble bath. And sushi. Pre-prepped strawberry salad wasn’t exactly appetizing after a ten-hour shift. Strawberries and champagne, however…
I swung by the grocery store on my way home to make it happen, then texted Theo again.
For some reason, he showed up at my place early and knocked on the door. “I’m here, baby.”
I dashed to the bedroom. “One minute, I haven’t changed yet.”
“I don’t care what you’re wearing,” he said.
“Hold on, it’s not pretty.” I tore through my dresser drawers for anything date-worthy or at least not neon green.
“Please, baby, I’m freezing,” he said.
Itwascold outside.
“Fine.” I bundled up in a hoodie and let him in.
He leaned his forearm on the frame like he was posing for a cover. An oversized hoodie hung open over his striped tank top, and his jeans rested low enough to read the band on his underpants. Only two pieces of hair strategically fell over his smoldering gaze. He’d frosted his tips and retouched his fade since I saw him on Sunday.
“You’re looking fresh,” I said.
“Thanks, baby. You’re sweet.” He kissed my cheek and pinched my hip as he walked past me toward the Fancee’s bag on the counter. “What did you get for me?” he asked.
“I’ll get it out of the fridge,” I said.
“Fridge?” He frowned.
I pulled out the sushi. “Yeah, see?” It was a nice platter, even if it wasn’t fancy.
He rubbed his chin and laughed. “Oh, when you said surprise, I thought you got me some Zeezy’s.”
Were those damned shoes all he thought about? This was date-night. I bit the inside of my cheek and set the sushi on the counter. “Is that why you were so eager to see me?”
“Of course not, baby.” He rubbed my shoulder and slowly unzipped my hoodie, his big, perfect lips inching closer. “After all, there’s always something under here for…” His eyes widened. “Wow, that shirt is bright.”
Heat flared through my chest. I pushed him back. “I told you I wanted to change.”
“I didn’t say it was ugly,” he insisted, following me to the bedroom.
I slapped the door to close it, but it bounced open just as I was tugging my clothes off. “It’s my uniform, okay?”
“I know, baby. You’re bringing in that bread.”
Wasn’t the phrase ‘dough?’ Ugh, it didn’t matter. I crumpled my shirt into a ball and tossed it into the laundry basket.
“You had a hard day. Why don’t you relax?” He dug his thumb into a sore spot on my shoulder.
“That was the plan.” I huffed. “I got strawberries and champagne. I was gonna take a bath. Instead–”
“I’ll draw it for you, okay? Dinner after.” He mimed minimizing my stress as if it was a windblown sheet to press on the bed, then retreated to the bathroom. “Relax.”
I took a deep breath.
Relax. Yes.
