“It’s fine,” I say. “Traumatizing. I will have to bleach my eyes, but I’ll make it.”
He smirks and then reaches behind him to his back pocket. That’s when I notice he’s wearing jeans and sneakers. Well, hello, Mr. Casual.
“I got something for you.”
“You did?” I ask.
He nods and brings a rolled-up piece of fabric out in front of him.
“What is it?”
He unravels it and holds it up. “Thought you might like it.”
In front of me is a cream-colored, vintage rock band T-shirt with Fleetwood Mac on the front, the image from their Rumours album.
“Oh my God.” I take it from him. “This is amazing.” I hold it out and study it.
“Check out the back,” he says.
I turn it around and take in all the city tour dates.
“Wait, is this an original tour shirt?”
“Yeah,” he says. When I glance up, I catch the pride in his eyes.
“Holy shit, Huxley. This is . . . wow, this is amazing.” I clutch it to my chest. “Thank you. This means so much to me.”
And this is exactly why I’m having such a hard time. Because the thoughtfulness behind this T-shirt only makes me like him that much more. The gesture cracks open my chest and pulls on my heart, forcing me to look at him in a different light.
He rubs his hands on his legs. “Glad you like it.” He glances to the side and it almost looks as though he’s . . . nervous. Nervous about what? “I wasn’t sure if you had anything else planned for today. Do you?”
He’s acting really weird.
Very strange.
Not like the demanding man I’ve come to know very well.
“Uh, nothing on the docket. Just trying to erase what happened this morning.”
He nods and continues to rub his hands on his thighs. “Well, if that’s all you have planned, I was thinking I might take you somewhere.”
Take me somewhere?
An inch of hope blooms in my belly. It’s coupled with excitement.
Is he . . . is he asking me out?
Is that why he’s nervous?
Is that why he’s rocking back and forth?
Because he’s nervous to ask me out?
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lottie. Remember, he wouldn’t kiss you over the weekend. Even when the rain was dripping off his chest and he was thrusting into you, he kept his lips to himself.
I choke down my raw emotions and ask, “Like on a date?”
His eyes land on mine. And for a torturous second, I’m terrified I read him completely wrong, until he says, “Yeah, like on a date.”
Oh God. He’s serious.
The honesty.
The shadow of hope in his eyes.
The nervous tick in his hands.
How could I possibly say no? There’s no way I could say no, not when my body gravitates toward him, when I can sense my heart opening up to him, even when I try to hide it or hold back. He’s got me hooked. It’s undeniable.
I’m positively hooked on this man.
I try to keep my emotions casual, though. “What were you thinking?”
His nervous ticks morph into a confident smile as he reaches to pull out something else from his back pocket. He holds a piece of paper in front of me and then flicks his fingers so the one piece of paper in his hand turns into two. “Care to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert with me?”
“What?” I shout, standing from the couch and grabbing the tickets to look at them closely. “No way. There’s no way . . .” My eyes scan the tickets. “Holy shit, these are tickets, these are real fucking tickets. Huxley, did you know these are real tickets?”
He chuckles as he stands as well. “Do you think I’d buy fake ones?”
“No, I mean—I just thought, you know, it would be like a fake ticket and then we go on the patio and play the music, pretending it’s a concert, but these are real. They have a barcode on them.”
“The barcode makes all the difference.”
In disbelief, I stare down at the tickets. “I can’t believe this. I didn’t know they were going to be in Los Angeles. I—Huxley . . .” I glance up at him. “Wait. This concert is in Portland.”
Hope falls as I realize the mistake.
He tilts up my chin and says, “I know. The jet is ready to take us once you get dressed.”
“Jet?” I ask.
A cocky smirk appears on his face. “Yeah, you do realize I have a private jet, right? We can go wherever we want, when we want.” He winks, the confidence in full swing now. “That’s what happens when you have a rich fake fiancé.”