“Okay, I’m ready,” I say, taking the stairs two at a time. I should’ve been ready when he first got here, but I’m excited to see what we’re going to do. “Thank you for waiting.”
“You’re worth waiting for,” he says, standing up from the couch, and wiping his palms on his thighs. How is he always managing to say the exact right thing to make my heart smile?
“You look really nice, Walker,” I say, smiling when his freckled cheeks flush.
“Thanks, Price,” he replies, taking my hand in his.
Bailey’s doing everything the right way, and I don’t even care what we do tonight. I just want to be here with him.
A thought crosses my mind on our drive that this might be the first date Bailey’s ever gone on, but I don’t want to bring up the past. I want him to enjoy tonight too.
I’m surprised when we pull up to1133, and Bailey casts a nervous smile in my direction after parking. “You ready?”
“What are we doing here? There was a private event on the calendar tonight . . .” I trail off, realizing our date is the private event. “Is this why your mom let me leave work early today?”
“She might have helped me set up some things,” he says, and now I’m really curious.
“B, are you secretly a romantic?”
Bailey uses a key on his keychain to unlock the door, opening it for me. “It’s not a secret, but I’ve never had someone I cared enough about to do things like this for,” he says, and I have no doubt this is going to be an unforgettable night.
Inside, there’s twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm ambiance across the gallery. In the center, there’s two art easels set up with canvases that definitely weren’t there when I left earlier.
“Are we painting?” I ask, turning to find him as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest.
He nods, his green eyes never leaving mine. “I thought it might be nice to try doing your favorite thing together?”
I close the gap between us, throwing my arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. His hands land on my waist, and Bailey kisses me back with the same intensity.
“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur against his lips.
“Not done yet,” he says, leaning down to kiss me again.
I’m falling hard for Bailey, or maybe I’ve already fallen. Being with him feels like summer days on the water and warm nights under the stars.
This is already the most thoughtful date I’ve ever been on, and it’s just started.
He looks as dazed as I feel once he pulls away, reaching to tuck my unbound waves behind my ear, but then Bailey smiles. “You were painting earlier, weren’t you?” he asks, and I feel my face grow hot.
“Why are you asking?”
His eyes crinkle as he laughs, messing with my hair again. “You have paint in your hair. I like it, though. It’s just one of the many things I like about you.”
“What else do you like?” I ask, memorizing the soft glow of his hair, and the light brown color of his lashes.
“I like how you’re not afraid to say what you’re thinking. I like that you take care of the people you love. I like that you’re still figuring out who you are as a person, because it makes me hopeful I can learn who I am too. I like seeing you first thing in the morning on your surfboard because it’s my favorite place to think too. I like how you make me feel like I can be the best version of myself just by being around you.”
My smile is so wide, it feels like it’s splitting my face in half. “Thank you for planning this.”
“I thought you deserved something nice after all the craziness in our lives recently,” he says, leading me to the easels. Bailey steps away, letting me look over everything, then comes back with a bottle of wine from the back room and two glasses. “My mom said Moscato was your favorite to drink, and she promised I’d like it too.”
“It’s like a sparkling grape juice, I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” I agree, playing with the fabric of my romper. “So what are we going to paint?”
“Well, since you won’t let me see anything you paint, Ithought it’d be fun to try painting each other. I know you’re the professional, but I’ll try my best,” he says, and I’m pretty excited to see what Bailey can come up with.
Two hours and a bottle of wine later, I’m helping Bailey move everything to the back until we come to deal with it tomorrow. My painting ended up being a rushed version of the broody blond in front of me, focusing on the big picture instead of the finer details I normally try to focus on. We’re both highly competitive, so I thought it would be fun if we set a timer to see how much we could accomplish.
Bailey opens the truck door for me, and I shake my head, still laughing at him. “I don’t know what you did for ninety minutes if you only had a stick figure on your canvas when the timer went off.”
