this was great fun and I hope we can do it again sometime.”
Gabi mouthed, Help, and I laughed. “Not a chance.”
Twenty
GABI
Sunday morning I cursed Liddy and Dallas for being MIA when I needed their style advice.
I cursed Mariah and Amy for plying me with tequila shooters and sending me to bed without my usual dose of pre-hangover killers.
I cursed the fashion industry for making me question if leggings were pants or if wearing them was a dating faux pas.
I cursed the universe for the exciting hockey game on TV that distracted me right after I’d dabbed Preparation H on my lip to try and reduce the swelling.
Which meant I’d totally forgotten about the goop when I answered the knock on my door.
Nolan said, “What’s on your mouth?” three seconds after I’d let him in.
And I also cursed Jensen Lund for giving his cousin my apartment number so I didn’t have any warning before my date showed up.
“It’s to reduce swelling.”
He leaned closer to scrutinize my messed-up face.
It took everything inside me not to tuck my chin to my chest to hide from his scrutiny.
“What did you put on it? Vaseline?”
“A form of it.”
“Does it still hurt?” he said softly.
“In some places more than others.”
“I’d offer to kiss and make it better, but I see that’s still not an option.”
Deflated, I didn’t move when he retreated and smiled at me.
“You ready?”
That’s when I noticed the whole put-together package that was Nolan Lund.
Mr. “Casual” arrived wearing a gray-and-black pin-striped sport coat over a cream-colored cashmere turtleneck and black jeans.
I might’ve . . . sorta . . . growled at him.
“Uh-oh. That’s an angry Coach Welk noise. What’s wrong?”
“Fancy Pants. In what context is that outfit you’re wearing considered casual?”
He looked down at his clothes and then back at me. “‘Brunch with the Lund Collective’ casual? I just came straight from there.”
“Did you bring other clothes to change into?”
“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?” When I continued my hard stare, he added, “I’m wearing jeans, a sweater and a coat. Same thing you are.”
My Lucky Brand dungarees and gray fisherman’s pullover sweater were in the same category only insofar as they were cloth that covered body parts. I looked down at my socks that were decorated in flying pigs, because I knew I’d beaten him on the cool socks front, but even they couldn’t bring a smile.
“Gabriella.” Nolan gently trapped my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. “I’ll say this once. How I dress has no bearing on you or on what you wear. None. I don’t expect you to change anything about yourself to accommodate me.”
“But I—”
“No buts. You are unlike any woman I’ve ever known. I like you just the way you are.”
That Billy Joel song started playing in my head, and yeah, maybe it warmed my heart a little.
“You know that I’m a ‘fancy pants’ clothes hound and you’ve accepted that about me, right?”
I nodded again.
“So chances are high that our daily styles won’t be in alignment. I won’t take it as a personal affront that you didn’t dress up for me if you don’t take it as judgment that I have a different idea of casual than you.”
Right then, I fell a bit more for this man.
Okay. A lot more.
We’d misjudged each other based on appearances and here was an explanation—not an excuse—that I could agree with.
“You just destroyed any argument I might’ve had with logic. How dare you.”
He smiled.
“My only request is if we decide on dinner or drinks or whatnot at a place that has a dress code, you give me advance notice.”
“How far in advance?”
“An hour? I should be able to pull something together in that time.”
“Done.” He pressed his lips to my forehead in a lingering kiss. “You ready for our day?”
Wait. We were spending the whole day together? Did that mean the night, too?
Good thing I’d shaved.
“I’m hoping wherever we’re going has food. I’m starved.”
“There’s food.”
“Cool. Then let’s roll.”
Full-date-treatment Nolan held my hand as we walked to his sportscar.
The music in the background during our ride changed from rap to rock to country. I thought it was sweet he’d shared his “favorites” playlist with me. Kind of like giving a girl a mixtape back in the day.
When we pulled into the Topgolf parking lot in Brooklyn Park, I smiled at him. “This is awesome, Nolan.”
“So I get positive marks for our first date activity?”
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to come here.” I leaned over the console and mock-whispered, “Just