Page 27 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
Her past wasn’t his business, but a part of him deep down wanted to show her that there were other kinds of men out there. Men who respected and appreciated her humor and candor, found her below the surface shyness intriguing. Men like him.
“Headshots and a dance,” he said with zero pressure in his tone, giving her the out if she needed it. “If that’s a fair deal.”
“A dance? Here?” She looked around at the boxes and boxes of crap and grinned, but wisely didn’t comment on the contents.
“No. Somewhere date like.”
“You want to take me on a date?” she asked as if he were speaking ancient Hebrew.
“Why should that surprise you?” It surprised the hell out of him.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think I was your type.”
He rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “I find you fascinating.”
She did not seem to like that answer. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into one tight line. “Fascinating? Like, she’s a wild one who gets intotroublefascinating? Because I’m really pretty boring and I don’t date suits, Suit.”
“Like funny, captivating, a real kind of fascinating, and let me make a note.” He pulled out a pen and paper, then made a list. “No loafers. No suits. No lawyer speak. Anything else, Fairy Princess Piper?” He drug out the F, and she laughed.
“For the last time, drop it.”
“NoFjokes.” He set the pen down and looked into her warm, whiskey eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. “So what do you say? You, me, dinner . . . a date?”
“With a dance?” Her gaze darkened with the same thing that had kept him up every night since Gage and Darcy’s party.
“And a dance,” he said quietly. “I’m talking a dress, heels, and I pick you up kind of dance. It doesn’t have to be anything more than you want it to be.”
That wasn’t completely true. He wanted her naked. But first he wanted her to trust him, so he’d put the ball in her court and see if she sent it back over the net.
She considered it so long he knew she was going to turn him down, which would be new. He hadn’t been turned down since freshman year, when he asked Colleen Snow, a twenty-year old pre-law student who was a server at his dad’s bar, to the homecoming dance.
“No dress, I drive myself, and no funny business.”
“Does that mean the heels are a go?”
9
??
By the timePiper finished the school photos, her jeans were grass stained, her shirt had a smudge of glitter, and she was dead on her feet. She’d also landed two new customers, both wanting family photos.
Being a portrait photographer wasn’t exactly living the dream, but it kept her and the power company on good terms.
“Thank you so much for stepping in to do the school pictures at the last minute,” Darcy said. “I know it’s not your thing, but you saved the day.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
Herding thirty-plus kids for a group photo was about as easy as trying to catch wind in a fishing net, but their energy was contagious. So contagious that being around that many pint-sized people all at once made her a little panicky. They were so small and squirmy.
Squirmy made her nervous. Made her break out in hives. It wasn’t that she was allergic to kids, she just didn’t know what to do with them. Being an only kid, then a street kid, she hadn’t had much experience in that department. And her mom certainly didn’t pass along any nurturing genes.
“I was almost embarrassed to ask you. It felt like calling Tom Brady to coach a Tiny Tyke football team, but when the other photographer called in sick, Jillian had the brilliant idea to give you a call.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Piper said.
Jillian snorted. “You hated every minute of it.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
