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Chapter Nine
It had been a long time since Alani found herself getting ready for a first date. It would have been high school when she last agreed to go on a date with a guy who was one of her closest friends; they’d figured why not try it out? Maybe the friendship was just a front for something deeper?
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t, and after three months of a whirlwind high school romance, she lost said friend during the break-up. Not pretty.
Even Warren hadn’t taken her out on a first date. The Hollywood big shot was more interested in getting Alani into his bed and after that night, going on chaste “dates” almost seemed laughable. Besides, theirs was a hot, passionate affair—one that had to be kept out of the tabloids at all costs. So even if she’d wanted to be wined and dined in any of her island’s classiest establishments, she had known back then that she’d be dreaming.
Not that Alani was a wine-and-dine kind of girl, especially not after she had her girls. Maybe she just wasn’t a true romantic at heart, despite being an artist. Maybe she had too much rational logic in her heart to want a guy to treat her to a night at a swanky restaurant with martinis and dancing and whatever the hell else people did on dates.
But that afternoon, she found herself excited at the thought of going on a date with Ivo. After his apology at her studio, they’d swapped numbers and had been texting all week. He hadn’t invaded her work time, not since she had accepted the date, and he never texted her when she was busy with work—always when she was at home, exhausted from a day of draining creativity. Ivo would ask her how her day went, what kind of progress she had made on her current project—and he seemed to remember every detail of what she’d told him about her assignment schedule. It touched her that he actually seemed to care.
And what Alani liked most of all was that the fear she felt at the thought of him, the intimidation his face brought about, was gone. Although still wary to some extent, Alani had been pleased with the pleasant change in Ivo’s demeanor toward her these days, even if it was just via text. Gone was the aggressive pursuer; in his place, Alani found a curious soul who sparked her interest in equal measure.
She hadn’t brought many date-worthy outfits with her to New Mexico, but after going through all of her little black dresses and formal blouses, she had realized she didn’t need some high-class get-up. They were going to a museum for a pottery exhibit. All she needed to do was wear something that made her feel good, and then everything else would fall in line.
So, with only fifteen minutes to spare before Ivo’s arrival, Alani slipped into a pair of old, comfortable blue jeans, paired with a subdued lavender V-neck tee and a tan pleather jacket. She kept her makeup as natural as possible, only adding a hint of mascara to her already thick top lashes and a dash of lip gloss to her lips, which she knew she’d lick off anyway before he arrived.
Heels seemed to be the most appropriate option for a date, and although the only pair of cute black heels she’d brought were comfortable, Alani opted for flats instead. A small part of her actually liked the noticeable height different between her and Ivo, who towered at least a head over her.
Weeks ago it had made her feel uneasy. Today, the thought made her feel protected.
Strange the way things could change so suddenly.
And funny, she’d thought, what a genuine apology could to for a relationship. If she’d smelt a whiff of insincerity that night—and having dated a Hollywood type, she could smell the stuff a mile away—Alani would have sent Ivo packing in a heartbeat. But that hadn’t been the case. He’d seemed distressed at his past behavior and authentic in his desire to change things. For now, that was good enough for her.
Her phone buzzed just as she was trying to contain her frizzed out hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Before she had gone through her wardrobe meltdown trying to find something date-appropriate, she had taken her usually thick, wild mane and tried to rein it into a controlled curl. Now, however, all the running around and clothes yanking over her head had sent the thing into an uncontrolled poof. Scowling, Alani shot her reflection one last look before grabbing her phone. Sure enough, Ivo was waiting for her in front of her building.
Time to dive in head first. Drawing in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Alani let her hair be—it usually did whatever it wanted, no matter how hard she tried to control it—and headed for the door. Purse on, with a textbook on local pottery and art traditions resting inside, she fired a quick text to tell him she was on her way down but paused in the doorway to collect herself.
Nervous yet excited butterflies swirled in her gut, both eager to rush down the apartment building’s emergency stairwell and fly toward Ivo’s truck and bolt in the opposite direction and lock herself in a closet. The perfect combination to make her smile like a fool and feel just a tad bit nauseous.
But she wasn’t about to back down now.
Alani had been looking forward to today all week.
Sunlight bathed her face as she pushed through the front doors of her building, its heat soothing away whatever pre-date jitters lingered. Down the pathway, waiting at the curb, was a huge red pickup truck; one she had seen around town on occasion. When she had first seen it weeks ago, she had thought it was just too big, but knowing that it belonged to Ivo, somehow it seemed right.
He cut the engine as she approached, then hopped out and hurried around the front of the truck, which also glittered in the sunlight. The rims practically sparkled. It was very apparent, even with her limited knowledge of cars and trucks, that Ivo’s vehicle was well-cared for in every aspect. The hood looked so clean you could practically eat off it.
“Hi,” she said a little breathlessly as he approached. They both reached out for each other, Ivo gently grasping her by her arm and Alani pressing a hand to his chest, but just as they each moved in for something more, they stopped.
Maybe they sensed they weren’t at the kiss-each-other-hello stage right now, which was fine. Alani settled for his slight squeeze of her arm, and she pushed her palm against his rock-hard chest briefly before pulling away.
“You look beautiful,” Ivo told her, sunglasses popped on top of his head, eyes roving her body with appreciation. She folded her arms, a twinge of discomfort settling in, but his gaze quickly returned to hers. “You ready to look at some pottery?”
“Born ready,” she said with a laugh. He grinned—the same one that made her stomach somersault and her knees threaten to give way—then opened the passenger side door for her. “After you, my lady.”
“Thank you, good sir.”
He offered a hand to help her up, which she took. Even if the truck had a step, it was kind of embarrassing just how much of a struggle it was to get in. Alani didn’t consider herself pintsize by any means, but the truck towered over her. Like Ivo, it somehow made her feel small—yet that didn’t intimidate her. Alani almost saw it as a challenge, and as she settled into the seat and buckled up, she lifted her chin and told herself she was more than capable of rising to it.
Once Ivo hopped in beside her and pulled away from the curb, going just a little too fast for her liking, he lowered the radio volume and shot her a smile.
“I’m really happy we’re doing this,” he said, lacking the cocky edge some guys might have in their voice when they had finally bagged the girl they were after. Something inside of Alani told her that he really meant it; she felt it in her marrow.
So, she nodded and smiled back. “Me too.”
***
