Page 61 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother
"Animal therapy?" Lennox reads over my shoulder. "What kind of date is this?"
"I have no idea." I type back a quick reply:Ready when you are. Animal therapy??
His response comes immediately:All shall be revealed. Prepare to be amazed.
"He's unpredictable," I say, but I can't help smiling.
"And you're into it," Lennox observes.
I don't bother denying it this time. Instead, I slip on a forest green sweater and apply a final touch of lip gloss.
"How do I look?" I ask, turning to Lennox.
"Like someone who's 'adequately interested' in her non-date," she teases. "You look beautiful, Han. He won't know what hit him."
My stomach flutters with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. What am I doing? A week ago, I was convinced that getting involved with Sanderson was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. Now I'm primping for another freaking date like a lovesick teenager.
"It's just one date," I remind myself aloud.
"Extended social interaction," Lennox corrects, mimicking my voice.
"I regret ever telling you anything."
"No, you don't." She pulls me into a quick hug. "Have fun tonight. And text me if you need an emergency extraction."
"That won't be necessary," I say, though I appreciate the offer. She gives me knowing eyes.
My phone buzzes again:Outside whenever you're ready. No rush.
"He's here," I say, grabbing my purse. "How's my hair?"
"Perfect. Go." Lennox practically pushes me toward the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"That leaves a disturbing amount of options open," I call over my shoulder.
I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, my heartbeat quickening with each step. When I push open the door to the parking lot, I spot Sanderson leaning against his car, looking unfairly attractive in dark jeans and a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He straightens when he sees me, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Hey."
"Hi," I reply, suddenly shy. "So, animal therapy?"
"You'll see." He opens the passenger door for me. "Trust me?"
I hesitate for a dramatic second. "I suppose I have no choice."
"That's the spirit." He waits until I'm settled before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I notice a small cooler in the back seat. "More ice cream?"
"Not this time," he says, eyes on the road. "Just some essentials for our destination."
"Which is?"
"A surprise."
I roll my eyes. "You and your surprises."
"You liked the last one," he points out.
