Page 58 of Tell Me Again
Ok, this wasn’t even her tenth time at the rodeo. If she had a nickel for every random hotel hook—
Nope. She moved forward again, keeping the door partially closed, just like her heart.
Trevor didn’t seem to notice. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?” He cleared his throat and added, “With me.”
“Sure. I think there’s a restaurant in the hotel—”
“Not the hotel,” he interrupted. “A restaurant downtown. I texted a friend who used to live in Houston. He recommended a place a few blocks from here.” He bent a few inches so they were at eye level. “I’m talking about a date, Sam.”
“A date,” she whispered, feeling like a fool for repeating his words. Feeling like an even bigger fool when the butterflies in her stomach morphed into something more intense. So intense her heartbeat thundered against her rib cage. “Ok,” she said on a squeak when she realized he was still waiting for an answer.
A wide grin spread across his face, and he fist-pumped the air before casually running a hand through his hair. “Great,” he said. “Great.”
At least she wasn’t alone in her unexpected reaction to the day.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he told her.
“At my hotel room door?” she asked with a smile.
He frowned as if searching for a better idea.
“Here is fine,” she told him, earning another grin.
She stepped back into the room and stared at the closed door for a few seconds before grabbing her bag and tossing it onto the bed. A date. She wasn’t prepared for a date. She’d packed for an evening of room service, cable TV, and an early bedtime before tomorrow.
She’d finally spoken to Whitney’s grandmother, who seemed grateful that Sam was flying down for the funeral and hadn’t mentioned the possible implication of the camp’s involvement in Whitney’s tragic death.
Brandon had also called, and she was going to his house in the morning to drive to the funeral with him and his mother. If Sam had guilt from the tragedy, the boy’s was tenfold. He’d only been able to speak a few minutes before dissolving into racking sobs. Through the phone Sam had heard someone shouting at him to “man up.” She figured it must be one of his older stepbrothers and mentally dared whoever it was to give the grieving teen a hard time in front of her.
But that was tomorrow, and tonight she had a date. She hadn’t been on a real date in years. It had been easier to avoid men altogether than to explain she was no longer the wild hell-raiser they expected.
She took a quick shower and then examined her minimal wardrobe choices. She had a black suit for tomorrow and decided to pair the silk camisole with her clean jeans—thank you, Lord, that she’d packed a pair with no paint stains. She threw a cardigan over the tank top and slipped her feet into black heels.
By the time she was dressed, her hair was partially dry so she blow-dried it the rest of the way and applied a little makeup. Normally she didn’t wear any, but she suddenly felt too exposed with a bare face.
Not bad, she thought, as she looked at the finished product in the mirror above the bathroom sink. Also not who she once was.
The way she looked had defined her for so many years and it was difficult not to focus on the tiny lines fanning out from her eyes and the slight pull to her mouth as harbingers of her inevitable fading beauty. Would she ever look in the mirror and see the woman beneath the surface?
The knock at the hotel door pulled her out of her musings. She dropped the tube of lipstick onto the counter, grabbed her purse and room key, then hurried to the door, drawing in a deep breath as she opened it.
“Hey,” she said, her voice embarrassingly breathless.
“You look lovely,” Trevor told her, his eyes never leaving her face.
She stepped into the hall, the door closing behind her with a gentle click. “You, too,” she told him. “I mean, you look nice. Not exactly lovely. Maybe lovely.”
She was babbling. Great. Trevor was so handsome in a white oxford shirt that made his skin look even more bronzed and sharpened his vivid blue eyes. He smiled and took her hand, lifting it to his mouth and brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles.
“Are you hungry?”
A simple question but somehow the words seemed to convey more than they should have. She almost lost her balance as she took a step forward, then righted herself and laughed. “I spent years parading the catwalk in heels. You’d think I’d be better at it.”
“I’ve got you,” he said quietly and they headed for the elevator.
“Would you rather take a cab?” he asked when they exited the hotel’s front doors. “We can go easy on your feet.”
“Let’s walk.” It had been warm when they’d landed in Houston a few hours earlier, but now that the sun was setting the air had cooled slightly and the scent of flowering trees lingered on the breeze.
