Page 209 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Scott: Less texting and more dressing.

I giggled at the irony of his words and sat up in my bed and typed out another message.

Me: This is the first time you’ve ever encouraged me to put clothes on. It feels like a momentous occasion.

Scott: Because today is important. And it’s our first official date.

Me: We’ve been on a date before.

Scott: Um, no. I’m pretty sure you’ve blandly called everything we’ve done so far, outside of the sex, “hanging out.”

Me: That’s a technicality. Besides, does it have to be at 8 in the morning?

Scott: Yes. And I promise, you’re going to have fun today.

Me: What kind of fun? I mean, what if what you have planned isn’t something I’d find fun? You should just tell me what it is, and then I’ll decide if it’s worth getting out of bed for.

Scott: Get dressed, Harlow.

He wasn’t giving in, and I couldn’t stop my curiosity from getting the best of me. Goddammit. He was a genius. I sighed out loud and threw my comforter off of my legs and removed my ass from my mattress.

With my hands held above my head, I stretched out the kinks and creaks from my muscles, and, while drumming up the motivation to hop in the shower, I sent him one last text message.

Me: Bossy bastard.

Forty-five minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and riding the subway with Scott to an unknown location. His large frame—clad in a nice pair of dress slacks and a button-up, collared shirt—stood beside me as we careened through the dark tunnels of the city.

“Ready?” he asked with a grin. “We’re almost there.”

I glanced down at my skinny jeans and tank top and then back up at him. “I feel underdressed.”

“You’re perfect,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

I quirked a brow in his direction, and instantly, he laughed. Probably because he already knew what my next question was before I even said it. “Where are we going?” I asked for the millionth time. “Seriously, Scott. A woman needs to be prepared. Do I need bail money? Should I have gotten a Brazilian wax?”

He waggled his brows. “Not today, and you’re sexy no matter what.”

“Even with a seventies bush?”

“Harlow.”

“Fine. But where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he replied, sighing deep and long, like he was actually annoyed with me. I didn’t believe him.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Liar,” he said with knowing smile, confirming that he wasn’t annoyed with me at all. “The fact that you love surprises is the one and only thing that got you out of bed this morning.”

“You were using my love of surprises against me?” I nudged his stomach gently with my elbow. “Asshole.”

“Not necessarily against you,” he answered. “Just using it to my advantage.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me in for a tight embrace. “You know,” he whispered into my ear. “I love your cute and curvy little ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do. It’s a nice ass.”