When her smile overtakes her face and her heart eyes return, I’m glad as hell that I agreed and didn’t try to talk her out of it.
“It’s a plan,” she says, bouncing with excitement.
“It’s a date,” I correct, and I can’t resist leaning in and stealing a kiss.
“What was that for?” she asks, breathless.
“Practice. I mean, we have to be ready for the press.”
Her mouth tilts up. “We’ve already practiced, remember? Was it so forgettable?”
“Oh, I remember, all right. Though I might need to be reminded again later. We’re going for five next time,” I say into her ear.
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I’d survive five. Sometimes less is more.”
“And sometimes more is more. I can’t back away from a challenge.” I give in to temptation and kiss her again, more deeply this time.
“Stop distracting me,” she says with a breathless laugh when she finally pulls away. “If I’m going to do a pap walk in a townlike Rockhaven, I need to plan my outfit. And Archie’s. I need the right East Coast summer vibes.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t look like that. This is important, especially if I’m going to be immortalized in the tabloids. I’m thinking I should go for a Jane Birkin look. Oh! When do you want to leave?”
“I have conference calls with my team later today, but I’m free this morning. Maybe in an hour?”
“Perfect!” She jumps up.
I pretend to be amused by her enthusiasm.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever been on a real date. I’ve had hookups and hangouts. I’ve had fuck buddies and friends with benefits. I’ve had one-night stands and situationships.
But old-fashioned couple stuff? Walking down Main Street playing tourist? Holding hands and getting ice cream?
I never thought that was something I’d want. But the truth is, energy is coursing through me at the thought of spending the morning with her. I’m just as eager as she is.
As I wait for Daisy,I pick up my guitar and open the door to the side patio. I sit in a white wooden chair that my grandmother loved and start to strum. Music comes to me, lyrics and melody, flowing so quickly that I can’t catch them fast enough. I get up to grab my phone and notebook. I record countless voice notes and write furiously as I play. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but at some point, I look up and realize the sun is higher in the sky. And I get a prickling feeling on my neck, like I’m being watched.
I turn to find Daisy curled up just inside the open French doors, on a window seat in the living room. She’s smiling, restingher head on her knees. “Keep playing. I don’t want to interrupt you.”
My gaze runs down her body, and I realize she’s changed into a semi-sheer white lace dress that’s very short.
I set down my guitar. “What is that material?” I ask.
She grins. “It’s lace. Crochet lace.”
“Huh. It’s very see-through.”
“Don’t clutch your pearls, Ryder. This material is partially lined, and I’m wearing a bikini underneath. I took one of your grandmother’s beach cover-ups, I think, from the seventies and adapted it into a dress. The stitching is incredible.”
The smile she gifts me is contagious. Her hair is up in some sort of twist. One curl falls in front of her eye, and I wish I were closer so I could brush it away. It’s fast becoming one of my favorite things. I want to cup her soft cheek and press my mouth to her glossy lips and move on to exploring the lace playing peekaboo with her skin.
I stand abruptly because otherwise, I’ll be tempted to coax her upstairs to my bedroom and the date will never happen. “Are you ready to go?” I ask gruffly.
“I am. But if you want to keep playing, we can go another time.”
“No. I’m good. It’s already gotten late. You should have let me know you were there, waiting for me.”
She tilts her head and watches me with intensity. “You were lost in the music. I wouldn’t have interrupted you for the world. This is what I’ve been hoping for you.”
