Santiago doesn’t clarify. He either doesn’t notice my apprehension, or he ignores it as he heads up to his bedroom to, I assume, get ready.
My gaze swivels to Levi.
“No, not mine,” he answers my unsaid question as his hands flick outward. “They travel around the country in an RV.”
I turn my head toward Walker, who sits on the other end of the sectional couch.
“Nope. My parents passed away years ago.”
My brows pull together. “But Santiago…” I trail off.
“His mother was killed when Santiago was thirty-five.” Walker stands, grabbing my hand and leading me to the stairs. Levi tracks behind us.
I nod, already aware of the tragedy. “He told me.”
Walker guides me up the stairs. “His father lives in a cabin on the west end.”
Blinking, my mouth opens in shock. “Santi never mentioned him, so I figured his dad wasn’t around.”
“Well, we’re going to dinner at his house.” Walker shrugs as we enter Santiago’s bedroom.
Steam rolls through the cracked bathroom door as Santiago showers for the occasion. Levi and Walker disappear to find more appropriate clothes to wear.
Wear.
Shit.
“Wait!” I shout in alarm after them. “What do I wear?”
Their only answer is to laugh at my distress, causing me to curse them in my head.
Spinning on my heel, I stare blankly at the closet. Santiago moved his clothes aside, making room for the brand-new ones he, Levi, and Walker had purchased for me.
Blindly, I grab the first two items my hands touch. Thankfully, they work. I end up with a pair of rust-colored wide-leg pants and a soft ivory sweater that slips off one shoulder, no matter how many times I tug it back into place.
Casual enough not to feel overdressed.
Cute enough that I don’t look like a bridge troll.
Outfit: check.
I keep my makeup minimal and throw my hair into a messy updo.
As I’m about to head back downstairs, I’m hit with a barrage of anxious thoughts.
Am I supposed to bring dessert? Do I call him Mr. Ramirez? What if I say something stupid? What if I have to pee a ton because I’m anxious, then he thinks I have health issues?
Levi appears in the doorway to the bathroom. “Butterfly.”
Peering at him through the mirror, I’m practically speechless. It’s not fair that he looks that amazing in a simple pair of jeans and a white scoop neck tee under a red flannel.
Not fair at all.
“Yes?” My voice quavers.
“You’re pacing.” Glancing down, I discover that he’s right.
Levi approaches with a calming presence. He soothes his hand over my upper arms in comfort. “Don’t be nervous. You look beautiful.”
