Trust in Me

When I knocked on Shortcake’s door, it opened almost immediately, and the nervousness turned into something completely different when I laid eyes on Avery.

The deep green blouse she wore mixed with the loveliness of her hair and complexion. Part of me couldn’t even believe I noticed that and was about to start waxing poetic verses in my head. The ever-present bracelet was in place. My gaze traveled down the skintight jeans tucked into black boots and then back up, straying where the soft red waves curled over her breasts.

I cleared my throat. “You look . . . really, really great.”

She ducked her chin as I stepped into her apartment. “Thank you. So do you.”

Grinning, I leaned against the back of her couch. “You ready? Got a jacket?”

Shortcake spun around, practically darting back down the hall. She returned with a black coat and started for the door. I picked up her purse and handed it over.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flamed and then she breathlessly added, “Ready.”

“Not quite yet.” I stilled her, brushing the strands of hair back over her shoulders and then set about buttoning her jacket. “It’s freezing outside.”

Shortcake stared up at me as I continued up her coat, slipping the buttons into the holes. My knuckles grazed where her jacket swelled sweetly and she shuddered in a way that made me want to pull her close.

“Perfect,” I murmured, forcing myself to lower my hands. “Now we’re ready.”

I held the door open and the moment we stepped out into the hall, Ollie burst out from our apartment, cell phone in one hand and a wiggling Raphael in the other.

What the . . . ?

“Smile!” Ollie snapped a picture. “It’s like my two kids are going to prom.”

Oh. My. God.

“Putting this in my scrapbook. Have fun!” Grinning, Ollie bounced back into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Shortcake looked up at me. “Um . . .”

I laughed loudly. “Oh God, that was different.”

“He doesn’t normally do that?”

“No.” I put my hand on her lower back. “Let’s get out of here before he tries to go along with us.”

She grinned. “With Raphael?”

“Raphael would be welcomed. Ollie, however, would not be.” I grinned as we hit the steps. “The last thing I’d want is for you to be distracted on this date.”

“Why me?” Avery blurted out, and then squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. Don’t answer that.”

The small candle on the linen-covered table flickered in the space between us. We’d placed our orders with the waiter, and Avery had nervously bounced from one topic to the next as she nibbled on her bread.

What had provoked that question had been the truth. I had told her that she didn’t have to worry about impressing me. And she had stared at me like I was a crackhead and had asked that question.

I couldn’t even believe she had asked the question. Sometimes the woman absolutely dumbfounded me.

The waiter arrived with our food, deterring me for about two minutes. “I’m going to answer that question.”

She cringed. “You don’t have to.”

I picked up my glass, eyeing her over the rim. “No, I think I do.”

“I know it’s a stupid question to ask, but you’re gorgeous, Cam.” Her fingers clenched the silverware. “You’re nice and you’re funny. You’re smart. I’ve been turning you down for two months. You could go out with anyone, but you’re here with me.”

A grin pulled at my lips. “Yes, I am.”

“With the girl who’s never been out on a date before.” She looked up, meeting my gaze. “It just doesn’t seem real.”

“Okay. I’m here with you because I want to be—because I like you. Ah—let me finish.” The look of doubt that crossed her face was obvious. “I’ve already told you. You’re different—in a good way, so get that look off your face.”

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“And I’ll admit, some of the times I asked you out, I knew you weren’t going to say yes. And maybe while I wasn’t always being serious when I did, I was always serious about wanting to take you out. You get that? And I like hanging out with you.” I popped a piece of steak into my mouth. “And hey, I think I’m a pretty damn good catch for your first date.”

“Oh my God.” She laughed, crinkling the skin around her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said you were a good catch.”

I shrugged. “I am. Now eat your chicken before I do.”

And she did.

More importantly, she finally relaxed enough to be enjoying herself. And wasn’t that the whole point of a date? I liked to think so.

“So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked. “Going back home to Texas?”

She made a face. “No.”

“You’re not going home?”

Shortcake finished off the last of her chicken. “I’m staying here. Are you going home?”

“I’m going home, not sure exactly when.” I didn’t like the idea of her being here alone. “You’re seriously not going home at all? It’s more than a week—nine days. You have time.”