Page 20 of Score on You

The clock mocks me, ticking away time without a concern for my nerves. Ridge should arrive any moment. That only serves to send my pulse into a tailspin. I pivot to make another pass across the room.

My gaze whips from left to right while seeking a distraction. I need to occupy what’s left of this wait or I’m likely to faint. Our meal is already cooking in the oven. A page in my scrapbook is prepared for the event. It’s sure to be one of my best creations yet. Maybe we’ll take a picture together to capture the memory. That giddy thrill skips in my belly at the thought.

Hopefully Ridge will think I look nice. The dress I’m wearing accentuates my curves in a subtle sense—according to Harper,at least. It makes me feel exposed, but tonight is about pushing boundaries. I’m exiting my comfort zone.

I peek in the mirror to check if the makeup I applied is still on. My mascara hasn’t smudged and the red tint on my lips pops. Minimal and classy, just like the loose curls styling my hair. Harper’s reassurance is playing through my mind once again.

Nothing needs to be done other than the actual date itself. That term sets off a fresh buzz in my pulse. Doubt soon follows.

Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s too soon. I’m rushing into things. He’s going to be disappointed. The night will end badly.

My stride comes to an abrupt halt along with the trail of negativity. Those concerns feel wrong. The cramp in my stomach confirms it.

That’s when the doorbell rings. I just about leap to the ceiling from the sound. With a palm pressed to my chest, I rush to greet him.

The breath whooshes out of me as he comes into view. It takes me far too long to process that he’s actually standing on my stoop. A formal welcome is required. I shake free of the stupor, forcing a smile that wobbles.

“Hi.” That’s the limit on my communication skills in this instance.

Ridge’s mouth slants into somewhat of a grin. “Hey, Callie. You look”—he pauses to take his gaze over me in a slow caress that curls my toes—“like my dream come true.”

Warmth rushes through me and I’m suddenly lightheaded. The compliment breaks the barrier that held my voice hostage yesterday. “Oh, that’s… very nice of you to say. I like the way you look too.”

A raspy chuckle rumbles from him before he reveals something from behind his back. “These are for you.”

I gasp at the large bundle that’s clearly a bouquet. “You brought me flowers?”

Never in all my years at Billmoore did I witness such a romantic gesture.

“A pale comparison to your beauty, but I believe these will be adequate.”

With trembling fingers, I peel back the thick paper to peek at the arrangement. My knees threaten to buckle and I sway into the doorframe. “Chrysanthemums are my favorite. These ones in particular are stunning.”

“I chose well then.” His tone is velvet against gravel—an unlikely combination, which makes the gentle rasp more alluring.

The lump in my throat expands. “You picked these at random? I find that hard to believe.”

“Call it a hunch.”

“Mhmm. How did you know I’d like these?”

His stare bores into mine until I feel trapped, very willingly. “I pay attention. Besides, they represent optimism and happiness. Seemed more than fitting.”

“You’re very charming.” I bury my blush behind the bouquet.

A gruff noise shoots from him. “Not many would make that claim, but your opinion is all that matters.”

“There you go again.” My face flames hotter.

“I better cool it, huh?” Ridge inhales deeply. “Something smells tasty.”

“Oh! Where are my manners? Please don’t hold it against me.”

“Never.”

I step aside and sweep an arm forward. “Come in. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“My nose tells me I’ll enjoy whatever you’re making.”

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