Page 71 of Doing It for Love

“Get up!”

“Ugnnn…”

“Up, up, up.”

I kick at the hands on my feet, then turn over in the bed. “Sleep. I need sleep.”

The sheets get ripped off my body.

“We’re going out.”

“Out?” I open one sleepy eye and look at crazy-ass Landon, who is way too awake for this late. Okay, it’s only nine, but after my long shift it feels like midnight.

“It occurred to me the other day that I haven’t taken my girl out since she became my fiancée. It must be rectified immediately.”

I snort into my pillow.

“You’re laughing because I said the word ‘rectify,’ aren’t you?”

“After a double shift I’m allowed to be as immature as I want.”

He grabs my arm and pulls till I’m forced to a sitting position. “Get dressed.”

“In what?”

“Something warm.”

“Coffee…” The word isn’t even all the way out before he puts a to-go cup in my hand. Then he throws me a victorious grin along with my bright red coat. “You have twenty minutes.”

I go to lie back down, but he takes the comforter, the pillows, and the sheet and walks out of the room, tripping over the lagging material. If it wasn’t freezing, I probably would go right back to bed.

—

Landon gets so frustrated with my slow pace from the front door to the car that he picks me up and carries me across the salted asphalt. Sleepy and uncoordinated are not good combos in the winter. Cautious or carried is the only way I’m getting to the car without breaking something.

I finish my coffee just as Landon pulls up to the train station. He’s had a brightly lit smile on his face the entire drive, and now the fizzy caffeine bubbles are starting to take effect, making me feel just as excited for who knows what the hell he has planned for us.

He pays for our tickets, and I don’t say anything about the money, but I know he knows I’m thinking about it, because he squeezes my hand twice and says, “I’m keeping it cheap, I promise.” And it sucks that we have to think about that just to go out for a night, but I squeeze his hand back once to let him know that cheap or expensive, I just want to be with him.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, trying to stifle a yawn. He adjusts his arm so I can rest on his chest.

“Look at lights. Wander around. Talk.”

“Mmm…”

“I’m not sorry I woke you up for it.”

I poke his ribs. “My hum was not a bad hum. It sounds fun. What should we talk about?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“How’sThe Walking Stiffcoming along?”

His lip quirks up at the side, and he kisses me long and sweet against my forehead. A forehead kiss. I love those things.

“It’s about twenty percent edited. I have to do a couple reshoots…but I should get a second opinion on some scenes. Anunbiasedone,” he adds when he sees me open my mouth to volunteer. “There are days when I hate it, that I feel like I wasted the grant money and everyone’s time, and there are days I feel like a frickin’ genius, and I can’t believe I directed something so funny.”

“What I saw was funny.”

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