“What way?”
“So . . .” He searches for the word. “Homesick. So homesick. I’ve missed my house before. My bed, my TV . . . But those things don’t even matter anymore. I just want to hold you.”
I know what he means, which is why there’s nothing I can say. Talking about missing him isn’t going to change the fact that I’m not going to see him anytime soon.
“Only thirty more days,” he says, and I close my eyes. “So will you please go on this date with me tomorrow?”
“Where are we going?” I play along.
“My house. Normally, I’d pick you up in my big red truck . . .” His voice lowers, sending heat prickling across my skin. “You remember my red truck, don’t you?”
I blush fiercely at the memory of all the things we did inside it—on the side of the road, and then in his driveway with the door hanging open—and Mike chuckles.
“You play dirty,” I say, and his tone smolders.
“If I remember, Hailey, that’s just how you like it.”
Oh God. I groan and climb out from under my covers to open a window, letting the late October chill extinguish the fire blazing beneath my cheeks while Mike’s sexy, confident laugh sounds against my ear.
“This is no way to ask a girl out on a first date,” I scold so he’ll stop trying to kill me with his deliberately sexy voice, and Mike laughs a little harder before he stops teasing.
“Okay. So my place, seven o’clock. Does that work?”
“What do you have planned?” I ask as I slip back under my covers, excitement thrumming through my veins.
“A surprise” is all he’ll tell me, and for the first time in two weeks, I fall asleep looking forward to tomorrow.
Don’t forget your key. Text me before you go inside.
Mike’s text is the first thing I read in the morning, and it reminds me that today is our first date. I smile in the mirror as I brush my teeth, because even if he won’t be there for it, he’s taking me on a date, and the knowledge that Mike—Mike!—is taking me on a real date fills me with all sorts of giddy, girly freaking excitement. I tell Phoenix all about him that day, about his smile and his laugh and how skilled he was at teaching me to play the drums. And I leave the shelter early enough to shower and put on some non-dog-scented clothes, even though Mike won’t be there to smell me.
At seven o’clock on the dot, I text him to tell him I’m in his driveway, and a second later, a video chat request appears on my phone. My eyes flash wide, since Mike hasn’t had reception strong enough for a video chat since he left. It’s been two entire weeks since I’ve seen him, and nervous butterflies swarm in my stomach.
The video chat rings three times before I muster the courage to answer it, and my heart slams against my ribs when I finally accept his call.
Mike’s face instantly appears on my phone, and I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. The warmth that rushes through me when I see him makes it undeniable: I love him. I love him so much it hurts.
“Hey,” he says, a sexy smile on his face, and a nervous, giddy, happy one sneaks onto my lips to smile back at him.
“I thought you weren’t going to have good reception for a few more tour stops?” I ask, and he smiles wider when he hears my voice.
“I wasn’t. I tracked down a special SIM card.”
“Do you have tonight off?” I ask, and Mike shakes his head. He looks like he’s in a hotel room, and I wonder what Indonesian city he’s in, or if I could even pronounce it.
“No, just a few hours,” he says. “But we don’t have any flights or press this morning, so I’m all yours until sound check.”
“Shouldn’t you be out exploring the city? Seeing the sights?” I ask, feeling guilty for keeping him.
“No. I should be taking my girl on our first date.”
He smirks at the blush that hides the faint freckles on my nose, and my cheeks stain even redder at the sexy way his mouth quirks up.
“I’ve missed making you blush,” he says in that irresistible tone of his, laughing when I turn the phone away so he can’t see me fan my cheeks.
When I finally turn the phone back around, the happy look in his deep brown eyes is enough to melt my heart. “Okay,” he says, “pretend I’m opening your door for you, because I’m a gentleman like that.”
I chuckle as I climb out of my car, and when I get to his front door, I use the key he gave me. Inside, he instructs me to go into the kitchen, and I immediately spot the massive bouquet of oversized sunflowers sitting in a pretty crystal vase on the counter.
“These are for you,” he says, as if he’s handing them to me, and my smile is unguarded as I let the sweetness of his gesture make me fall even more in love with him.
“How’d you get these?” I wonder as I brush my fingers over their summery yellow petals, and Mike tells me about a florist he found three towns over.
“They delivered them to Rowan,” he explains, “and she brought them to the house for me since Adam and Shawn left my spare key at their place.”
“I bet Adam and Joel hate you right now,” I say with a laugh, knowing Mike is putting them to shame. They’ve done sweet things for Rowan and Dee—flowers, chocolate, postcards—but nothing like planning a romantic date from ten thousand miles away.
Mike grins. “I’m sleeping with one eye open, trust me.”
When a knock sounds against the front door, I startle and stare wide-eyed at the back of it.
“Dinner,” Mike explains. “I hope you’re hungry.”
I open the door to find a teenage delivery boy standing there with a pizza in his hands. He hands me the warm box, tells me the tip is already covered when I frantically search for money in my pockets, and wishes me a good date.
In Mike’s living room, I set the pizza on the coffee table and open the box, lifting an eyebrow when I see the toppings. “Half pepperoni?” I ask, wondering if he forgot I’m a vegetarian. The other half is my absolute favorite though—banana peppers and black olives.
Mike turns his phone so I can see the pizza on the bed beside him—half pepperoni, half banana peppers and black olives, just like mine. “I’m not too stoked about these banana peppers, myself,” he complains, and I laugh.
“Why didn’t you just get me banana peppers and olives, and you pepperoni?”
“Because this is date,” he insists. “And since this is a date, we’re sharing.”