Page 54 of From the Embers
However, those were problems for Monday when our respective doctors opened their offices again.
It was Friday, and I had a long-overdue date with a gorgeous woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I tickled her side. “All right, smartass. Let’s get back to that date.”
“You have my attention.”
From my back pocket, I retrieved three envelopes I’d spent all day preparing. Fanning them out like poker cards, I brought them up between us. “Would you do me the honor of spending your evening doing whatever the hell you would like as long as it’s with me?”
She twisted her lips. “That is quite the proposition. Is there cash in those envelopes? Now is probably the time to break the news that I’m not a hooker.”
She squirmed against me as I tickled her again.
“I know that you tend to…” I sucked in through my teeth. “How should I put this… Make the plans, not necessarily go with the flow.”
She slanted her head in a bored glare. “Just say it. You think I’m boring and allergic to spontaneity.”
“No. I did not say that at all. You are a strong, independent, sexy woman who knows what she likes, and somehow that what is me, so I am not in any way, shape, or form going to complain about it. But knowing you aren’t fond of surprises and wanting to make you happy the way I do, I have come tonight bearing options.”
Her smile returned. “What kind of options?”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m so glad you asked. In these three envelopes”—I waved them out to the side like a magic fan—“are three different variations of our first date. Each one includes every detail of our evening from transportation, restaurant, wine, after-dinner activity, right down to the flowers I may or may not be bringing you when I pick you up.”
Her smile didn’t just spread, it lit her entire face. “You planned three dates?”
“Yep. We have Sophisticated and Classy, Fun and Adventurous, and just in case you still aren’t in the mood to go out, we have Netflix and Chill. Now, milady, I will turn these over to you and allow you a few minutes to peruse each one while I eagerly await your decision.” Quite proud of myself, I offered her my handiwork with a dramatic Oscar-worthy bow.
Only she didn’t take them from my hand. She just stood there. For an absurdly long time.
Finally, I glanced up to see what was causing the delay only to find the most beautiful adoration staring back at me.
“I don’t need to see those,” she said quietly. “You could take me anywhere in the world right now and I’d go just as long as you were there too.”
Fuck, why did that feel so good? I’d spent all day planning because I’d wanted the night to be perfect—for her.
And in one sentence, she’d made it perfect—for me.
I narrowed my eyes. “Anywhere? You may have just bitten off more than you can chew. There are filthy bat-infested caves I would love to explore somewhere in the world.”
Pressing up onto her toes, she wrapped her arms around my neck. “I trust you. You pick. I want the true Eason Maxwell experience tonight, surprises and all.”
I brushed my nose with hers, denying her the kiss she was so clearly asking to receive. “You sure?”
“I’m positive,” she replied breathily.
“Okay, then.” I slid my hand down her back, slipping it into her pajama bottoms to grab her ass. “You might want to put on a pair of jeans, Bree. It’s not nearly as much fun for me to take them off at the end of the night if you aren’t wearing any to begin with.” And with that, I removed my hand, tucked the envelopes into my back pocket, and turned on a toe, headed for the back door, calling over my shoulder. “Pick you up in thirty.”
All my hard work of putting together three dates worthy of Bree was wasted. Though it easily became the best date of my entire life. That had less to do with what we actually did and more to do with the company.
Using a combination of all three of the flowers from my planned dates, I showed up at the front door with a giant bouquet of lilies, daisies, and silk panties in the shape of rosebuds. What? After two weeks of chaste kisses, I had big plans on the off chance she’d picked the Netflix and Chill envelope.
Standing there in jeans that could stop traffic and a bold red off-the-shoulder number, she laughed—as I’d hoped. And then, after putting them in water and saying goodnight to the kids, I guided her out to an UberBlack. If she wanted the true Eason Maxwell experience the way she’d claimed, it did not include the private driver I had on standby or the Harley I’d borrowed from a buddy and tucked away in the garage. Honestly, the Eason Maxwell experience didn’t even include the UberBlack, but it was a first date, so I sprang for the upgrade.
