Ryan bought the wine Jackson told him to get, arranged with Will to get a key to the place, and talked to Will about a few of the particulars of the Cooper House. Ryan asked Will again if he was sure this was okay; he worried that he was pulling something underhanded by using some other guy’s house for his own romantic ends. Although Will had gotten his job through his friendship with Mills, Ryan knew he took the work seriously, and he didn’t want to get Will in trouble.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Will reassured him. “I e-mailed Christopher and asked him. All he said was, don’t touch his action figures.”
“His action figures?”
“He’s got a collection. Early Marvel Comics, mostly focused on the Stan Lee characters. You’ll see.”
“Huh.”
With all of that worked out, there was nothing to do but worry about the whole thing until date night. Ryan didn’t think of himself as someone who worried about dates; he didn’t date much, but when he did, he was usually fairly confident. If a woman liked him, she liked him, and if she didn’t, then she probably wasn’t the right one anyway. His longstanding crush on Lacy—now thoroughly extinguished in the wake of his earth-shattering lovemaking with Gen—had been an exception.
But this was different somehow. He worried about what impression he would make on Gen. He worried about whether she would have a good time, whether she would think it was odd to be using the Cooper House, whether she would like the food Jackson made for them. Essentially what it all boiled down to was that he worried about whether she would want to see him again. Because he needed to see her, not once, not a few times, but over and over again.
When Friday night came, he picked up the food from Neptune—Jackson had packed it carefully in an insulated carrier—and went down to Marine Terrace to get Gen. He’d dressed carefully for the evening, in charcoal slacks, black leather loafers, and a blue cashmere V-neck sweater with a hint of a white T-shirt peeking out from underneath. He went down the steps to her door feeling butterflies. It had been a long time since he’d felt butterflies. He liked it.
On Friday night, Gen was a little bit frustrated because Ryan wouldn’t tell her where they were going for their date. How was a girl supposed to pick out clothing for a date if she didn’t know where they were going or what he had planned? Of course, last time, her date clothing had been wildly inappropriate for what they’d actually ended up doing—rolling around on the floor of the barn—so she supposed she could argue that it didn’t make any difference.
It made a difference to her, though, because she wanted to feel pretty and confident, sexy and self-assured.
She surveyed the contents of her closet, and then, having decided that she didn’t have anything suitable for a date of indeterminate destination, she went up the stairs to Kate’s place and banged on the door.
“What? What?” Kate threw open the door. “Is the house on fire?”
“Sorry. I may have pounded.”
“You did. What’s going on?”
“I’m going out with Ryan, but I don’t know where we’re going, and how the hell am I supposed to plan what to wear when it might be a nice dinner or it might be … camping! Or … or fishing!”
Kate opened the door wider to let Gen in.
“Did he tell you he was taking you camping or fishing?”
“No! That’s the problem! He didn’t tell me anything!”
Kate closed the door behind Gen and leaned back against it, her arms crossed over her chest. “If he takes you on a surprise date and it turns out to be camping or fishing, you’ve got bigger issues than your wardrobe.”
“Well. That’s true.”
“You’d better have a glass of wine,” Kate said, heading for the kitchen. “You’re freaking out.”
“I’m not …”
“You are.”
“Okay. Maybe. A little bit. I might be freaking out a little bit.”
Kate pulled a wineglass from a cupboard over the sink and poured Gen a glass of pinot noir. “Here. You need this.”
“Okay. Okay.” Gen took a deep breath, had a sip of the wine, and closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to find her inner serenity. When she opened them again, Kate was looking at her with a combination of amusement and sympathy.
“I don’t know why I’m freaking out,” Gen told her. “I mean, Ryan and I have already slept together. The hard part is over, right? It should be easy now.”
“Except that you like him,” Kate observed.
“Well, of course I like him. I wouldn’t have had barn sex with him if I didn’t like him.”
“You know what I mean,” Kate said.
And she did. She meant that this was more than like, more than attraction, more than something fun and easy that could be dismissed quickly when it was over. It was too early to think in terms of the future, too early to think in terms of love. But this was more than like. They both knew that.
“Yeah,” Gen admitted. “Could you maybe help me?”
If they’d been closer to the same size—if Kate hadn’t been four inches taller than Gen with what the designers would call a straight figure in comparison to Gen’s hourglass—they might have shared clothing. As it was, they had to settle for Kate coming downstairs with Gen to root through her closet.
“This is nice,” Kate said, pulling out a red sheath dress that would emphasize the color of Gen’s hair.
“It’s nice for a fancy dinner or a cocktail party or something,” Gen complained, “but this is a mystery date! How can I know if it’s nice for a mystery date?”
Kate replaced the dress in the closet and gave Gen a stern look. “You’ve got to wear something. Unless you intend to greet him at the door naked. Which, now that I think of it, might be a good plan.”
“Ugh.” Gen groaned and flopped down on the bed.
“Okay, look. What’s your happy outfit?”
Gen looked at her blankly. “My happy outfit?”
“Yeah. You know. The one outfit that, whenever you wear it, you feel good and you know you look good. We’ve all got one.”
Gen thought about it, and then her face lit up. “I’ve got a top that makes my boobs look great.”
“Good. Get it.”
They paired the top with jeans and boots, and a leather motorcycle jacket Gen loved but that she hadn’t worn in a long time because she usually dressed more formally for work.
When they were done, Kate kissed Gen on the cheek and gave her a companionable pat on the shoulder. “You look great. I’m gonna get out of here before he shows up.”
“Okay. Kate?”
“Hmm?” Kate looked back on her way out the door.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She started to go out, and then hesitated. “It’s kind of awesome that he’s worth freaking out for, don’t you think?”
Gen thought about that. “You know, it really is.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryan came to the door on time, to the minute. It made Gen wonder whether he’d arrived early and then waited out the clock before knocking. If so, that was pretty cute; it indicated that he was as nervous as she was.
She opened up and let him in, and he looked so handsome she would have swooned if that sort of thing were still done by smitten women. Kind of a shame that it wasn’t.