“Well, you know,” Laura replies, and I wave over my shoulder and make my way out.
I make it home in record time with my car windows down and the air conditioner turned off. It didn’t matter that I was sweating; there’s something about the smell during the summer, even in the desert, that calms my senses. I look at my phone and see I’m home much earlier than our intended date time. I shoot Devon a quick text, and then for the first time in ages, I go about getting ready, the full enchilada ready. I wash my hair, exfoliate, and shave everything. You never know what might happen. Plus, it’s Devon freaking Anderson. He’s sex on a stick and then some.
My thoughts go back to a couple of months ago, when we had a huge family gathering. My parents, their siblings, my cousins, their children, everyone under the sun was there, plus some. It was a huge party where there was lots of fun to be had, but one memory sticks out the most, almost as if Jason was telling me to be careful after he had too many beers to count, but the gossip flew out of his mouth none the less. Jason told me way more than I should ever find out from a third-party person; my heart broke for Devon, and a piece of me felt like I was betraying him for even listening to my cousin. Even when I got up to leave him where he sat, he followed me around like a dog with a bone. That’s where part of me thinks he was trying to give me fair warning that Devon might have baggage attached to him. It was my own stupid fault for letting it slip out to my other cousin that I was cutting an almost celebrity’s hair, and she wouldn’t shut up until I told her who it was.
I know that’s something I’ll have to let Devon know before this connection we have gets any deeper. I was raised to be an honest person. My parents showed me growing up how a strong relationship can flourish, and that’s what I want.
My phone ringing has me pausing from putting on lotion.
“Hello.” A smile shines through my tone when I see who’s calling.
“Hey, honey. I got your text. I’m leaving work now, but if you’ll be ready around six, I’ll be there.” Devon’s tone sounds deep and husky.
“I’ll be ready. Are you sure I don’t need to dress up?” I ask.
“Positive, I’m not dressing up. It was bad enough I had to wear a suit and tie in Arizona. I’m not going to wear that on a date where we’re driving around and acting like a couple of tourists,” Devon says. Gosh, I can’t wait to see where this thing between us goes.
“Perfect, I’ll see you soon,” I respond, knowing I need to get ready if I’m going to be on time.
“I can’t wait.” With that, we both hang up. I know I texted him like he asked earlier, but instead of him texting me, he took the time to call me, making our conversation feel more meaningful.
I go through my closet, not even ashamed at how color-coordinated I have it. I have so many different shades of black leggings, and all of them fit differently; it’s basically my work uniform, which has me pausing. Maybe I should switch it up a little bit since he’s used to seeing me in all black. I go through my leggings, landing on a pair that’s a green camouflage patterned. The design isn’t flamboyant and in your face, but subtle. I pair it with a black Nirvana shirt, grab a flannel in case I get cold, add a pair of sneakers to pull my look together, then tackle my hair.
Sometimes, I get so irritated with it. It’s long, thick, and did I mention thick? I shouldn’t complain, but sometimes it’s all I can do to deal with it. I go through the task of blowing it dry, adding some volume, and then curling the ends into loose waves. At the last minute, I decide to throw my trucker hat on and call it a day.
The rumble of a vehicle pulling into my driveaway lets me know Devon is here, so I grab my bag, rush out, and lock the door. I’m not big on traditions, and there’s nothing in my book that says a man has to meet me at the door every single time. Plus, I’m just plain excited to see Devon again, so with that, I’m practically running to him as he steps out of his truck.
I leap into his arms, just as he braces himself, and give him everything I can. With my legs wrapped around his middle, I feel his hands grasp my ass, holding me in place, and when our eyes connect, I see the joy in his reflecting in mine.