knew that you were supposed to drink red wine with steak, so he picked up a bottle of Merlot. Now he looked at the bottle sitting on the table and realized that he had no idea if Verity was a drinker. There was so much he didn’t know about her. Really, he barely knew her at all.
Though he had forbidden himself to fall for her, it astonished him how attached he’d gotten to her in such a short time. Melody had moved out six years ago, and Aunt Jane died six months later. Since then, he hadn’t made a lot of friends, preferring to keep to himself. Frankly he’d never even realized how lonely he was . . . until Verity came along.
He uncorked the bottle and left it on the table, then poured some charcoal into the grill, dousing it with lighter fluid and throwing a match into the pile. It lit up immediately, and he covered it with a vented top before heading back inside. He had enough time to roll up the corn and season the steaks before she came downstairs.
As he worked, he thought about her question from earlier today—the one that had gotten her so quiet: Have you dated a lot of women here? You know, coworkers? He should have just answered her because the truth was that, while he occasionally engaged in a fan fuck, the only person he’d ever dated at work was Sandy.
He’d dated Sandy for a few months on and off, but their relationship had been eighty percent physical and twenty percent watching movies and eating. When their movie was over or they ran out of things to talk about—which happened all the time—they’d fuck. So they ended up fucking a lot, which made the relationship pleasurable but monumentally shallow.
Not that he hadn’t missed Sandy when she left Atlanta to take a job at Tournament of Kings in Vegas. He did. At least she’d been company, even if that company consisted mostly of cold pizza and booty calls. More than anything else, he’d missed watching movies with someone. He’d missed that for months after she left.
When he fantasized about Verity, which he did near constantly since meeting her, there were a surprising number of daydreams he had about sitting next to her on his bed and watching a movie. Not even fooling around—though he got hard at the thought of getting physical with her—just sitting together: her warm, small body next to his, holding hands, as they watched a movie.
With the corn rolled up and the steaks covered with a layer of salt and pepper, he checked the time: 7:55.
Hustling outside, he put the corn on the hot grill and the steaks, which were on a covered plate, on one end of the table. He’d wait a little bit before starting them. He plugged in the Christmas lights and took the little box from his back pocket and placed it on her plate. Some guys got their dates flowers or chocolates. He’d gotten Verity a Yggdrasil necklace. He hoped she didn’t mind.
With everything ready, he picked up his phone from the table to choose some music, but he froze, his brows furrowing at the number of message alerts he found there. Scrolling down, he counted three, four, five, six different missed calls from the same familiar number.
Fuuuuuuck!
Shit, shit, shit!
He stared at the phone, and for just a split second he considered ignoring the messages. It occurred to him to just pretend he hadn’t seen them, because he wanted tonight to be about him and Verity. The quick onslaught of shame was sharp and harrowing and made him hang his head with self-disgust. Walking away from the house, out onto the lawn, he hit the callback button.
***
Verity didn’t have too many pretty things, but one dress she’d always loved was a simple skater-style dress she’d ordered from Forever 21 last year. A simple white eyelet bodice with a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps gathered into a short, flared white skirt with a coral belt around her waist. It was sweet but still sexy, making her waist look tiny and her breasts look bigger than they were, and she felt extra confident the few times she’d worn it. She paired it with some white wedge sandals bought on sale at Walmart, added a sterling silver bracelet her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday, then headed downstairs with flutters in her stomach.
At the foot of the stairs she took a look at