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“So, what do you say? You want to go on a date with me?”
Well, he seriously doesn’t expect me to say no, I mean, not after buying me a dress for the occasion. Also, on the positive side, every girl likes a good date. We don’t like to say no to that kind of thing.
“Hmm.” I chew on the inside of my cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, even though he can’t see me. “I’m not sure…”
“Noelle… please.”
Keeping the excitement out of my voice. “Fine. Tomorrow works for me.”
“I’ll pick you up. And, Noelle?”
I close my eyes, savoring the thrill of his words as they zing through my body. “Yeah?”
“Don’t lie about having a schedule to me again.”
I giggle at his assertiveness. “Of course, Mr. Thatcher. It won’t happen again. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He laughs softly before hanging up the phone.
Jumping out of the couch, I twirl around my living room, pure frisson of delight racing through my veins.
Oh, I just can’t wait!
I have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember!
Chapter Twenty
Maverick
“Whatthehellistaking so long?”
“We should be getting feedback by tomorrow, Mr. Thatcher. I’ve mailed the rest of the copies to Mr. Burnham, as well as Ms. Carter. They’ll contact you as soon as Nexus has drawn up the terms of their proposition.”
“Good.”
As I turn off the phone my mind immediately goes to Noelle and our date tonight. I want to show her how special she is and how things can be between us.
The door opens as I replace my phone in my tux pocket. Noelle walks up to me and, she looks amazing.
I step forward and kiss her cheek. “Hi.”
Her cheeks go slightly pink. “Hey.”
I set her hand on my arm and walk her to my car, opening the door to her and holding her hand while she gets in. I go around and get in too and start the car.
“Want some music?”
“No, thank you.”
Backing out of the neighborhood, I glance at her. “How’s Abbie?”
“She’s doing fine. She got her tube out this morning and she’s been regretting it ever since.” She unlocks her phone and start scrolling for something on the screen. “She, uh, she sent me this.”
When we are at a stop sign, she brings the illuminated screen to my face. It’s a selfie of Abbie in a hospital gown, holding up a bowl of something that looks like gruel. There’s a tag underneath the message that reads, “Second helping of grits for dinner and I feel like a buffalo” alongside a couple of crying face emojis.
“Glad to see she’s doing better.”
That part is rather much true. There’s no resemblance with the girl I saw at Noelle’s apartment. The abject dejection in her eyes is gone and she has some color on her cheeks.
