Page 47 of For the Boys
“Oh,” Brent said, realizing he was holding them awkwardly at his side. “Yes, they are.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said. “She’ll love them. She should be down any second.”
Amliea moved down the hall and yelled, “Berkley, your gentleman caller has arrived! Do come down and greet him!” in a terrible British accent.
The floor squeaked above, followed by someone moving down the stairs. All thoughts left his brain the second she rounded the corner.
Brent thought Berkley was beautiful in general, even though up to that point, he had mostly seen her dressed casually in jeans and sweaters.
But Berkley in a dress—a tight black dress that fell just above her knees, had sheer sleeves, and left her collarbones exposed—caused Brent’s brain to short-circuit.
She walked toward him on feet clad in black strappy heels that looked capable of murdering someone.
“Hi, Brent.” It took his brain several long seconds to formulate a response, urged on by a sharp elbow in the ribs from Kimber.
“Hi, Berkley,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You look beautiful.”
She beamed at him, cheeks turning pink. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself. It’s nice to experience the suit game in person.”
“The boy does have a good suit game,” Amelia said, walking up behind Berkley with her coat. Berkley slipped it on, openly checking Brent out.
Brent had stressed endlessly over his outfit choice for their first date so he was glad she liked it.
Honestly, he had stressed endlessly about every little detail regarding this date.
As soon as their call had ended on Monday, he’d called the restaurant to make the reservation. Next, he’d pulled his favorite charcoal-colored suit from his closet, plus a white button-down shirt and dark grey tie, bagged them up, and taken them to the dry cleaner. Then, he placed a call to the florist, asking for help creating a beautiful bouquet for Berkley, which he’d picked up on the way to her apartment so the flowers would be as fresh as possible. Two hours ago, he’d showered, shaved, and taken care styling his hair.
Still, that stubborn piece curled onto his forehead. He hoped Berkley didn’t think he looked too disheveled.
Remembering the flowers, he handed them to Berkley.
She stuck her nose in the blooms and inhaled deeply. “They’re beautiful,” she said, a small smile tilting up the corners of her lips. “Thank you.”
Brent beamed. “You ready?”
“Definitely. Lead the way.”
He turned around and opened the door, and Berkley hugged Kimber and Amelia goodbye before walking out.
“Don’t bring her home too late!” Kimber called after him.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Amelia yelled at Berkley.
“You don’t even live here!” Berkley yelled back, and her friends’ laughter followed them down the hallway.
They reached the truck, and he opened her door for her, thankful for the running boards so she wouldn’t have to jump to get in. Reaching for his hand to steady herself, she climbed up and settled herself in the seat. He ran around the front and slid in behind the wheel, turning to smile at her. “Your friends are fun.”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re certainly something.”
He took a deep breath and started the engine. “Are you ready?”
“I will be if you tell me where you’re taking me.” She tugged her coat tighter around her, relaxing into the seat.
Brent smirked. “Not a chance.”
They chatted about everything and nothing on their drive through the city, some Top 40 country song playing quietly in the background.
“Do you like country?” Brent asked, gesturing to the stereo. “I can change it if you don’t.”
