Dean got nothing but a whole lot of silence in return, but that was because his reflection in the mirror was incapable of answering. Only Emma could, and he was fighting a gnawing worry her response would be a big, resounding no way in hell, dude.
Or even worse, she might laugh.
A groan tore from his mouth as he stared at his incredibly uneasy, incredibly un-smooth expression. Goddamn it. He was Dean frickin’ Colter. He’d charmed countless women. Played the field so hard he’d worn tracks in the turf. Chicks were begging to date him, for fuck’s sake.
“Yeah, lead with that,” he chastised his mirror image. “Hey, Em, so listen, I’ve got chicks lining up to date me, but yeah, I only want you, baby.”
“Ahem.”
He spun to find Parker standing by the open bathroom door, one broad shoulder leaning against the threshold.
Damn. He hadn’t heard his friend enter the apartment. Then again, Parker’s time in the Rangers had given him the same covert skill set as Dean. AKA the ability to sneak up on people and humiliate the shit out of them.
“Chicks are lining up to date you, huh?” Parker’s lips twitched.
“Shut up.” He stalked out of the washroom and headed for the open-concept main room that was most of his apartment. “Eavesdropping is beneath you, bro. You couldn’t have called out yoo-hoo or some shit when you came in?”
“And miss that pep talk you’re giving yourself?” Parker laughed. “My only regret is not pulling out my phone and recording you.”
Dean sighed. “The Niners tickets are on the bar. Go nuts.”
Parker headed for the wet bar across the room and swiped the white envelope Dean had left there. He peeked inside, grinning at the contents. “How the hell did you manage these seats, bro?”
“I know people.”
Parker snickered. “Uh-huh. Is that code for ‘I slept with someone in the 49ers organization and she’s lining up to date me, therefore she gives me whatever I want’?”
Dean gave his friend the finger. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, asshole. I could’ve easily kept the tickets for myself. Actually, I could’ve taken Emma.”
“One, why have I still not met this mysterious Emma? And two, she likes football? Marry her, bro. Seriously.”
He chuckled. “We’re from Texas. Of course she likes football. And the reason you haven’t met her is because you’re too busy making googly eyes at your fiancée to pay attention to the rest of the world.” Dean swiped his suit jacket off the arm of the couch and shrugged into it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a dinner date.”
Parker didn’t move. He just gaped at Dean. “Wait—you’re wearing a suit to dinner? I figured you were going to some fancy event or something.”
“It’s an important date,” Dean said with a shrug.
“Right.” His friend grinned broadly. “Because you’re asking her to be your girrrrrrlfriend.” Another snicker popped out. “You want to practice your speech on me first?”
“Nope. I’d rather kill myself,” Dean said cheerfully.
This time it was Parker flipping up his middle finger, but Dean didn’t take the bait. He didn’t have time to banter with his buddy. He had a woman to win over.
His nerves plagued him all the way to Emma’s hotel, but when she emerged from the front entrance in a short blue halter dress, he forgot all about being nervous and went straight to being turned on.
Except then she got in the car and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, and his nervousness returned in full force.
“You look gorgeous,” he said thickly.
“Thanks. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
She smiled, but his mouth had trouble returning the gesture. His throat had gone dry, and his palms were so damp they were sticking to the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“Nothing.” He answered a little too quickly, and a furrow appeared between her delicate brows. “How was your day?”
“Surprisingly conflict-free,” she admitted. “No emergencies in New York, so I was able to concentrate on sketching.”
She chatted for most of the car ride, oblivious to Dean’s drawn-out silences. He did his best to reply with uh-huh and really? and awesome but inside he was a hot mess. What if she wasn’t interested in getting into an official relationship with him again?
And what if she was—and then went back to New York? How would they make it work? Long-distance? God, that was…unacceptable. He couldn’t have an entire country between him and Emma. If they were going to be together, then he wanted them to be together.
His mind was still a jumbled mess when they reached the restaurant. Dean handed his keys to the valet, then helped Emma out of the car, gaze dropping instinctively to her long legs as she gracefully rose from her seat.