Austin definitely checks the most important boxes for tonight’s “date”: he’s gorgeous, athletic, and successful. At least, helookslike he is based on his Instagram pictures—many of which include him on exotic vacations in swimsuits showcasing his washboard abs or wearing designer suits at business dinners. With a different girl in almost every post.
But that doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for anything with Austin, except for him to sit next to me at dinner to prove to Hunter that I’m not a loser.
I beat both Lou and Hunter home from work and relish the time to take a shower and curl my hair into loose, beachy waves without anyone else needing the bathroom. But I hearthem downstairs by the time I’m zipping up the little black dress I choose to wear. It hits mid-thigh and hugs the few curves I have; it’s one of the most flattering dresses I own. My go-to when I need to feel confident. And the boat neckline is high enough to cover my scar—except for when I bend toward the mirror to finish applying my makeup. When I do, the dress gapes a bit with a straight shot to my scarred sternum. As long as I don’t bend over for any reason, I should be able to avoid any questions or weird looks from Austin.
“Livvy?” Lou’s voice echoes from downstairs.
I glance over my reflection once more. The entire time I’ve been getting ready, I’ve been fueled by a strangely fierce need to look amazing for my date with Austin ... to make sure Hunter knows I’m not as lame as Lou was prepared to make me look when I got “stood up.” But for the first time, my rage-confidence is besieged by a flutter of nervousness erupting in my belly. My blonde highlights shine brightly in the loose waves that cascade over my shoulders, I’ve done a smoky eye, enhancing how blue they are, and I’m even wearing lipstick—which I almost never do. Hunter won’t know that I rarely ever put this much effort into a weeknight date, but Lou will. I can only pray she’ll keep her infamously big mouth shut this time and not rat me out.
“Livvy!”
I grab my clutch and step out into the hallway. “Yeah, I’m ready!” I call down to her. “Austin is picking me up though. I can meet you guys there.”
I start down the stairs and nearly stumble when I see Hunter standing by the front door, wearing a dark Henley and even darker jeans, looking ridiculously handsome—on the unscarred half of his face—and irritated as he glares at his phone.
When he hears my heels on the stairs, he glances up and then does a double-take, his eyes widening. His head doesn’t move, but I don’t miss the way his gaze travels over my dress, all the way down my legs to my heels and back up again.
“I guess I clean up okay, huh, Barrett?” I say.
He goes back to looking at his phone. “You’re well aware of how you clean up. You don’t need a confirmation from me.”
A swell of hot anger fills my chest. “I know they can manipulate statistics, but I did read somewhere that it won’tactuallykill you to be nice.”
His eyes fly up to meet mine, but I spin on my heel and storm into the kitchen before he can respond. Lou is grabbing her keys off the counter; when she turns around and sees me, she wolf whistles. “Whoa! Did I not get the memo to make this a fancy night?” She’s in jeans and a blouse with some sort of designer booties. Still plenty stylish, but definitely not LBD worthy.
“Well, I have adate.” I arch my eyebrows. “I didn’t want to disappoint. You always say first impressions are everything.”
Lou gives me another once-over. “He must be really hot if you went to this much effort for a first impression.”
“He might be.” I smirk.
“Okay, well ... I guess Hunter and I can head over to the restaurant, and you can meet us there?”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the front door.
“Or maybe wecanall ride together!” Lou hurries out of the kitchen, much faster in her booties than I am in my heels.
“Like we’re high schoolers? I don’t think so!” I call, trying to catch her before she can answer the door.
“It’s fiscally and environmentally responsible—saves gas and emissions.”
But we both forgot about Hunter skulking by the front door. I hear him say, “Who are you?” as we round the corner to the foyer. Hunter is holding the door open, not even attempting to conceal the contempt on his face as my date walks in.
“I’m Austin, Olivia’s date. Who areyou?” Austin isreallytall; he’s even got Hunter by an inch or two. His medium-length brown hair is swept back in an artfully tousled way, and he’s wearing fitted black slacks, shoes that may or may not be made of alligator skin, and a dark-purple button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows that emphasizes his pecs and biceps to prime advantage. He’s gorgeous ... if a bit over the top. Lou’s eyes are as wide as I’m afraid mine might be.
“Hunter,” is all my surly neighbor says, shutting the door.
Austin’s gaze lingers momentarily on Hunter’s scarred face but, thankfully, without comment, moves on to me and Lou.
“Austin!” I burst out, stepping toward him before anyone says something that might humiliate me. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”
His smile reveals perfectly straight, white teeth. “Of course. You look great, Olivia.” He smoothly wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me into his body. Okay, we’re hugging hello. I’m not complaining though—especially when I’m acutely aware of Hunter and Lou watching us. Plus, it gives me the chance to feel all those muscles. And nothing can stop me from inhaling the deliciously spicy scent of his cologne.
“Oh, this old thing?” I smile, teasing, as he releases me. At leastheappreciates my dress and the effort I put into my makeup.
“If that’s old, I’d hate to see you in something new. I might not have been able to restrain myself to just a hug.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Hunter says loudly, yanking the door open again. “I’ll drive.”
