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Because she was not going on a date with Wyatt Hamilton.
…
He’d never been this nervous before. As he pulled up to a charming house, his palms were sweatier than they were the time he’d brought his team to victory in the Super Bowl, and his heart raced like he’d sprinted down the field full-speed, with the other team’s fastest player hot on his heels. It was ridiculous.
He didn’t even know this woman.
Why did she make him all shaky and weird inside?
All he really knew about her was that she sang horribly, wore a Peter Pan/Tinkerbell costume like no one else, and had broken a vase that had been in his family for more generations than hours he’d known her. And yet it was still like he was a schoolkid on his first date.
“Pull yourself together, Hamilton,” he muttered under his breath.
He flexed his hands on the wheel. Her hou
se was cute. It had white siding, shuttered windows, and a small porch out front. She’d left the light on for him. He wasn’t sure why, but it warmed his heart that she’d thought of him like that. Swallowing hard, he tugged at his tie, cursed under his breath, and opened his car door.
After grabbing the flowers, he made his way up to her door. Before he could even knock, it swung open, and for the second time that day, she took his breath away.
How did she keep doing that?
She’d been sexy in her costume, but in her red dress, she was downright dangerous to his focus, something he generally avoided like the plague. Anything that took his focus off his game and his stats was dangerous. Yet here he was.
At her door.
Only because I need her for the meeting. After he wooed his potential investors, with her help, he’d politely thank her for her assistance, drop her off at her door, and never see her again.
“Hey,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi. You look…” He checked her out again. Bad idea. Every inch of red fabric clung to her generous curves, and he ached to trace each and every one. Most of the women he dated were tall, curve-free, and barely ate half a salad at dinner. They deferred to him like he was some sort of god—but being on her doorstep made him wonder idly if he’d been dating the wrong kind of women all these years. “Wow.”
“Thanks,” she said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear and stepping back so he could go inside. “Come in. I just need to grab my purse and jacket, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
He swallowed past his dry throat and walked past her. She smelled like flowers again. The scent of her perfume was equal parts torturous and delicious. Her scent put the flowers he brought her to shame. Speaking of which… “Here you go.”
“You got me…flowers?”
“From your shop, yes,” he said, forcing a smile. “I told the guy behind the counter that you did a fine job singing, too, so don’t worry about that.”
She closed her eyes. “Did you tell him they were for me?”
“No.” He frowned. “Why?”
“Did he fanboy all over you?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“Yeah…” He laughed and eyed her from under his lowered head as he ducked down shyly. Fangirling always left him a little uncomfortable. He appreciated it, and loved his fans, but he never knew what to say, or how to act, when someone was gushing all over him. “He was nice. I think his name was…Caleb?”
“Yep. Caleb.” She took the flowers, her fingers brushing his. “My brother. Sorry about that.”
“Oh.” He scratched his head, smiling. “So, the guy he called Dad…?”
“My dad.” She laughed. “You basically just met my family, minus my mother.”
“Before the first date?” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. “A little unorthodox, but okay.”
Her place was sparsely furnished, but every piece seemed to him to have been picked out with a lot of thought. He was pretty sure a girl like Kassidy never did anything without considering all her options.
For some reason, he wanted to challenge that self-control.
