“You see,” I start, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I already knew that, but thanks for saying it.” Thanks for saying it? How lame am I? Why can’t I tell him already? It doesn’t seem to faze Brody, though.
He places a kiss on the tip of my nose and says, “You’re welcome. Let’s go shower and get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Out where?” I ask, curious.
“Out.” He grins. “C’mon.”
“I need to know where so I know how to dress, Brody.”
He huffs like this is such a trying subject. “Wear whatever you’d like, Selene. You’ll be beautiful either way and as long as you have clothes on, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“How about this, you go to my closet and pick something out for me?”
Brody nods. I take a shower while he sifts through the clothes hanging up. With extra care, I shave, ensuring that my legs are as smooth as possible. Excitement runs through me, wondering what Brody will choose. I’ve never had a guy pick out my clothes before. Is he choosing my outfit based solely on where we are going or how he thinks I’ll look in it? Or maybe on what he will want to take off when we get back from wherever we are going?
When I emerge from the bathroom, Brody isn’t in my room, but I think I can hear water running from down the hall. He must have gone to that bathroom to take a shower. On my bed, he’s laid out what I’ll be wearing tonight. It’s a light gray dress that I’ve worn to a couple of events I’ve had to go to for my father. It’s borderline inappropriate for a business event as it hugs my body and the neckline plunges between my breasts. I usually wear a long necklace with it though. The dress has sleeves that stop above the elbows, and its length is just to my knees.
Returning to my bathroom, the towel still wrapped around my body, I dry my hair first. I think I’ll wear my knee-high, black suede, high-heeled boots and a black, button up coat with the dress. Sounds from down the hall drift down to my room as I slip on the dress. For a moment, I wonder if that really is Brody. What if he went home to get ready instead? What if that’s not him?
Absolutely hating myself, I call out, “Brody? That is you, right?”
“Yeah, babe,” he replies.
Relief floods me at hearing his voice. It was ridiculous to think that it wasn’t him, but I wanted to be sure anyway. While I go back to getting ready, he slips into the room, leaning against the doorframe, but I don’t realize it until he speaks.
“I think I did a good job,” he says, those blue eyes raking over my body in appreciation. I smile and when his eyes finally reach mine, he adds, “I’m
heading to my place for a minute, okay? I won’t be long.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready by the time you get back.”
Brody nods, walks over to kiss my temple, almost looking concerned, and then leaves to go next door. I ignore any reasons why he may be concerned. Not going there right now. Instead, I’m going to lotion myself up, put on my makeup, and finish so I will indeed be ready. Before we go, I have to let Bonkers out. I stand just inside the door, watching him through the glass and hating that I have to leave him.
The clicking of a door shutting causes my heart to constrict as it shoves its way up my throat. I turn to find Brody and my heart slowly makes its way back down. I hate my reaction, but I’m not going to think about it. Brody walks over to me, looking rather handsome. He’s wearing black slacks and a white, buttoned-up collared shirt with the first few buttons undone.
“Ready?” he questions.
“Almost. Waiting on Bonkers.” My smile doesn’t feel real, even to me. My heart is still going a mile a minute. This is absurd. He only left me alone for a few minutes, and his return has my heart going crazy and my hands trembling.
Brody notices me shiver slightly as a chill runs down my back. His brows bunch, his lips dip in a frown, and he steps forward, running his hands up and down my arms. “Are you cold, Selene?”
“No. Just a chill in the air, I guess.” Thankfully, Bonkers starts heading our way. I let him in, pat his head, and then Brody leads me outside to his car.
When he takes my hand, everything apart from us and this moment disappears. Right now, life only consists of Brody and me and our plans for this evening. Perfection. I feel like I need to absorb every detail, starting with his hand. It’s rough with callouses, warm, and allows mine to fit perfectly inside his. I turn in my seat a little, taking in his features as he drives.
His jawline is smooth and strong, leading to a chin that slightly juts outward. Even his nose looks strong. How can a nose look strong? It sharpens the outline of this side view of his face. Light-colored eyelashes move as he blinks and his hair is smoothed away from his face. Finally, my eyes venture to those red lips, my favorite. They lift as he smiles, and he glances over at me.
“Are you ogling me?” He tries not to laugh, but it falls from his mouth anyway.
“No, I’m not,” I lie. “Where are we going, Brody?”
“We need to eat, don’t you think?”
Giggling, I agree. He still hasn’t told me where. Fine. I sit back in my seat, but we arrive at a restaurant within minutes of doing so. I can’t tell much about the place from the outside. There’s no denying the romantic atmosphere as we walk inside, though. The lighting allows each table to feel secluded in a room full of others. At the front of the dining area, there is a large grand piano and a man wearing a suit is playing a soft, alluring tune.
We’re seated at a small, round table in the center of the room, it seems. Brody pulls my chair out for me. It’s a sweet, gentlemanly gesture. He slides his chair closer to mine, making it where we’re facing the guy up from who is now singing in a quiet, but powerful voice. Brody slings his arm on the back of my chair and I look over at him.
“This place is lovely,” I say. The atmosphere is relaxing yet romantic and intimate. I unbutton my coat, feeling warm, and slip out of it before Brody takes it from me, hanging it off my chair.