“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.”
“Wait . . . so we’re flying to Portland tonight and we’re really going to go see Fleetwood Mac . . . in concert?”
He nods. “Yup. There’s also this burger place in Portland called Killer Burger. We should go there for dinner. Maybe Voodoo Doughnut for dessert. That’s if you’re up for it.”
“Are you kidding me?” I nearly shout. “Of course I’m up for it.” I look him in the eyes. “Thank you, Huxley. This is . . .” I catch my breath. “This is really thoughtful.”
This is why I’m falling for this man. This right here.
That smile.
That kind heart.
That attentive, sexy mind of his.
“I wanted to do something nice for you.” He pinches my chin with his forefinger and thumb. “I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” And for some reason, that comment diminishes my hope that this is something more. He’s grateful for the work I’ve done for him. Deep sigh. I can’t let that ruin my night, though. He might not be in the same headspace as me, but at least I can enjoy tonight. He looks at his watch. “Think you can get ready in half an hour?”
“On it,” I say while squeezing the shirt to my chest. “I have the perfect shorts to wear—ugh, you took my clothes away. I don’t have jean shorts.”
“I had your clothes brought over this morning. Figured you’d want something casual to wear tonight. Everything is in your room.”
“God bless you.” I stand on my toes, lift up, and, because I have a death sentence, I place a kiss on his jaw. “Thank you, Huxley.”
And then with my T-shirt in hand, I run up the stairs to my room so I can get dressed. I can’t believe I’m about to see Fleetwood Mac in concert.
But more importantly, I can’t believe I’m going on a date with Huxley Cane.
Kelsey: He’s flying you to Portland? What? For a date? Where can I find myself a Huxley?
Lottie: He has two brothers.
Kelsey: Unlike you, I don’t mix business with pleasure. But enough about that. HOLY SHIT, Lottie, you’re going to see Fleetwood Mac. Did you tell Mom?
Lottie: Not yet. I figured I’d send her a picture.
Kelsey: Where are the seats? Front row?
Lottie: I didn’t even look. Probably not.
Kelsey: He’s flying you to Portland in his private jet. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mind spending money on expensive tickets.
Lottie: He has the tickets, I’m getting dressed. I’ll let you know where the seats are when I look at them again.
Kelsey: What are you wearing?
Lottie: He gave me a vintage tour T-shirt with the Rumours cover on the front, so I’m wearing that and my ripped jean shorts. Hair down and curled, and my boho hat. Ankle boots.
Kelsey: It’s perfect. Think he’s making a move?
Lottie: I honestly can’t think about it. I asked him if it was a date and he said yes. But he also thanked me for the work I’ve done. This was what I was worried about. I really like him, and I don’t think he returns the feeling.
Kelsey: Then just enjoy. Maybe this is the olive branch, him trying to connect the two of you on a different level.