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“Rory said to dress warm and meet him at my house. I guess we’ll go from there.” Vi wound a lock of hair around her fingers.
“Is this the big date?” Paige asked as she tore lettuce leaves into bite-sized chunks.
Vi mustered a shy smile. “No, he’s calling this the prequel. A little pre-date.” She was babbling.
Paige and Brenna exchanged knowing looks. Vi tugged at her sweater collar. “Well?”
“Nice shade of lipstick. All the better to pucker with.” Mischief leaked from Brenna’s green eyes.
Vi’s entire face flamed. “Uh, no. He told me he wouldn’t initiate any more kisses.” She winced. Could she chop her tongue off?
Brenna’s mouth gaped open. “Any more kisses? What haven’t you told us, girl?”
Vi scrunched her lips to one side, determined not to talk about their moment at the hospital. Their perfect kiss. “He’s kissed me on the forehead since then, so I don’t know what to think. I want to trust him …” Her eyes narrowed. “I could use a little help here.”
“Mija, in Rory’s mind, a kiss on the cheek or the forehead wouldn’t count as a real kiss.” Paige gave her an encouraging smile. “You can trust him.”
“Unless he finds you so irresistible, he can’t help himself,” Brenna smirked.
Paige rolled her eyes and snapped a towel at Brenna. “Vi, you look stunning. Have a great time.”
On the drive over, Vi had worried her bottom lip until the carefully applied lipstick had disappeared. She shouldn’t be gritting her teeth, antsy to get this over with—dates were supposed to be fun. The boot dragging, she climbed out of her car, grateful for her sweater and thick socks. Rory waved from the balcony.
A chill frosted the air. White clouds puffed a frothy tide against a deep sapphire sky. An enticing aroma Vi couldn’t identify emanated from the house.
Rory met her at the door in a navy sweater that accentuated his sculpted shoulders and trim waist. She found his wind-tousled hair utterly charming. As if the man needed more charisma.
“For you, pretty lady.” He bowed, holding out an environmental mask. “I plan to take your breath away but refuse to compete with sheetrock dust and paint fumes.”
Giggling, Vi took the mask. “Is this where the prequel happens?” He continually surprised her.
“Allow me, please.” Rory’s slender fingers navigated around her hair and the tam, gently securing the strings behind her ears. “We’re going to the upstairs balcony. You should be in the clear, allergy-wise, but let’s not risk it.”
Once they’d climbed the stairs and crossed a carpeted floor, he said, “Close your eyes.”
A shiver encased her spine. She could trust him, couldn’t she?
Her eyes fluttered shut. She inhaled the sharp scent of his pine cologne as he guided her forward.
“Okay. You can open them now.”
Vi blinked. And blinked again at the transformed balcony. Last she saw, the neglected mess of odds and ends required a firm hand and plenty of time. Now the wooden flooring and rails were spic and span. Two new chairs with colorful cushions and a matching chaise lounge replaced dilapidated lawn furniture. A smoking hibachi squatted on a small table. Dead plants and pots had disappeared, and a small Christmas tree glimmered from one corner. Holiday music played from an unseen source.
Still staring, she tugged the mask down. “You did this?”
“A house-staging seminar I took came in handy. And Paige tutored me through a menu and grocery list.” White teeth flashed between his mustache and beard.
“This is the prequel?” Vi searched his face. His gray eyes had warmed to pewter. “Yes, ma’am. Dinner at your place. A walk around the lake. You leave when you’re ready to go. No pressure.”
Vi sagged against the door frame. She could do this. Without conscious thought, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” Oh, mercy, his mouth was much too close. Refocus, girl.
His lips tilted up before she looked away. Had he taken a seminar in mind-reading too?
As Vi turned to the coolers, heat infused her body, despite the nippy air. “Let’s see what’s for supper.”
Rory’s insides sailed over the bar. Vi had almost kissed him. Not an aren’t-you-sweet kiss either. His mouth went dry when he glimpsed the passion flaring in the depths of her eyes. For a second or so, anyway.
She visibly relaxed at the prospect of dinner and a walk. Rory had observed enough of her responses to know she’d be skittish, but he didn’t understand why. She needed to trust him enough to tell him. It had become his priority. God, please help me here. If only one of her tight layers loosened tonight, he’d consider it a win.
