The Girl Next Door

“Anything else?” I prompt, waiting for something that is more of a smoking gun.

“She gave me her cell number and told me to text anytime.”

“I’ve had her number for years,” I tell him.

When he presses his lips together and doesn’t say anything more, I continue, wanting to put him at ease. “I’ve always found Dr. H to be super friendly and affectionate. I’ve been in her office a lot of times and we always sit on the couch when we talk. We’ve grabbed coffee together. Maybe she shouldn’t be so physically demonstrative,” I shrug, “but that’s just who she is. Most students don’t have a problem with it.”

I’m not sure if I’m making the situation better or worse.

“So…you think I’m overreacting?” he asks.

Definitely.

But I don’t have the heart to tell him that. Instead, I say, “I think you’ve misinterpreted her actions. If she realized her behavior made you uncomfortable, she’d be upset.” I search his eyes, hoping I’ve laid his concerns to rest.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re right.”

My lips bow up at the corners. “Trust me, I am. She’s being friendly. Nothing more.”

His face clears as he nods. “All right. You know her better than I do.”

When he stretches, flexing his arms, my mouth turns cottony and all thoughts of Dr. Hayes are instantly forgotten.

He grins as if he knows exactly how he affects me. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yup.” I pause for a beat. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to give me a sneak peek of what the make out portion of the evening will entail?”

Heat flares to life in his eyes. “Sweetheart, if I gave you a preview, you wouldn’t want me to stop.”

A thrill of anticipation shoots through me because he’s right. Since we’ve gotten together, we’ve held off on sex. We’re taking this relationship slow. That being said, I’m all but dying to get my hands on him.

And vice versa.

The wait is killing me.

But it’s worth it.

Beck is worth it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Beck

Nerves prickle at the bottom of my gut as I park my truck in Mia’s circular driveway and cut the engine. This is the same nauseous feeling I’d get standing in the tunnel waiting to run onto the field before a game. Like I’m going to puke. I have no idea why taking Mia out on a date feels like such a big deal, but it does. All I know is that I want everything to be perfect.

I grab the flowers from the front seat and take the wide stone steps two at a time before ringing the bell. The sound echoes inside the cavernous entryway. I run a hand over my button-down shirt and khakis one last time.

Wait a minute. Are the khakis and dress shirt overkill? Maybe I should have kept it casual. I’m not looking to spook her.

Damnit.

It’s too late to do anything about it now.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

After a few agonizing minutes that feel like an eternity, the door swings open and Mia stands before me on the other side of the threshold. That’s all it takes for the doubts filling my head to disappear.

Neither of us say a word as her lips lift into a hesitant smile.

This.

This is exactly why I wanted to take her out.

My gaze rakes over her from head to toe. She’s wearing a black sweater that hugs her breasts and a short, dark wash jean skirt paired with black tights. Her hair hangs in loose waves that frame her face and tumble around her shoulders.

My mouth waters. It takes every ounce of self-control not to reach out and yank her into my arms.

“Hi,” she says, breaking the silence.

“You look beautiful.” It’s the only thought running through my head.

“Thanks.” She ducks her chin as color blooms in her cheeks.

Sometimes I don’t think Mia has any idea how gorgeous she is.

She points to my hand. “Are those for me?”

I glance at the flowers before shaking my head. How the hell could I forget about them? It took at least twenty minutes to pick out the perfect bouquet at the florist.

I thrust them toward her. “Yeah, sorry.”

She takes the colorful blooms from me before burying her face in them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you. No one has ever brought me flowers before.”

It makes me doubly glad that I did.

She points to the kitchen. “Let me put them in a vase and then we can leave.”

I shove my hands in my pockets as she silently pads down the hall. I hear the faucet run and then she’s back, carrying a crystal vase in her hands before setting it on the table in the entryway.

She slips her feet into black heels that make her legs look even longer.

How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands to myself all night?

I clear my throat and those thoughts from my mind as I rock back on my heels and glance around. “Your parents aren’t home?”