truck. I will also bring brochures. Call it my ultimate apology and thank you for another chance gift. Please, Nina?
I glanced out the window, picturing my dream truck in my driveway. Fine, I admit it, I let myself be spoiled. Deal.
Then I returned to reality and went back to work, smiling like a goofball the whole time.
The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off at four pm, and I hurried to save everything I was working on. I raced to the shower, shaving as fast, but safely, as I could— all over—washed, conditioned my hair, yadda, yadda, yadda. All that get pretty for a date shit. The main problem was the hair. I had a lot of it. And by a lot I meant it took over half an hour to dry it with a blow dryer. Yeah, literally, and I couldn’t blow dry it all in one shot on high and hot or it poofed out like a fro on crack, heroin, and meth.
So it was warm and medium while I balanced putting on my eye makeup, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed in between. Then I burnt myself twice using this great invention curling thing. Basically you stuck parts of your hair into it, it sucked it in, beeped for ten seconds, you opened it up, and voila perfect curls. It was awesome . I was not. I was all thumbs and I hadn’t been on a date in three years, so yeah, slightly out of practice.
Honestly, I was lucky I only burned myself twice.
And I had not worn a push up bra in forever because I had gotten too fat to fit in any of mine. Now I’d lost too much weight so they were all a bit big on me. I wanted to bang my head against the wall.
Oh, and all my sexy underwear fell off me. Honestly, I was okay with that. I hated panties. Luckily, I had a skirt that Old Navy had sent me the wrong size of and I had never returned tucked in the back of my dresser and I decided commando was just fine with me. And I found some halter top clubbing shirt someone had gotten for me as a joke for a conference in New Orleans, shoved my girls up, tied that bitch up around my neck, and went with it.
Somehow, by some miracle, I was ready by five when the doorbell rang. I clutched the handrail as I walked down the stairs realizing it had been probably two years since I’d worn heels like this, thanking my lucky stars we weren’t going anywhere and already missing my sneakers.
I opened the door and smiled at Conall. “Hi.”
“Heavenly mother of—” he breathed as he dropped the flowers in his hand. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
“Okay then. Good to know I normally look so hideous,” I drawled, turning around and carefully heading back up the stairs.
“No, no, not at all,” he blubbered as he followed after me, closing the door behind him. “It’s just, you look breathtaking, and I didn’t think you were dressing up for me.”
“We did say this was a date.” I shrugged as I reached into the fridge and pulled out the wine I’d put in there earlier to chill. I’d picked a strawberry one I liked since he’d decided to bring over take-out from an Omaha treasured steak house. I know, that was more a red wine meal, but real red wine gave me migraines. That was as close as I got. “A woman dresses up for her first date with a man. I was excited.”
“As am I.” He cleared his throat and set down the bags. “I’m glad you are. You look amazing.”
“Thanks. I have this or I put those ciders in the fridge we like.”
“Whichever. I think cider with steak might be better.”
“Okay.” Now I cleared my throat, nervous as could be as I switched out what was in my hand. As I turned and closed the fridge again, Conall was right in front of me.
“Do I have to wait until the end of the date for my kiss?” he murmured as his body moved closer. I shook my head, and he slid his hands around my waist, resting them on my ass as his lips found mine before moving them up my body and stopping when they were in my hair. The kiss was mind-blowing , so good I almost dropped the cider bottles. “You’re not wearing
I glanced out the window, picturing my dream truck in my driveway. Fine, I admit it, I let myself be spoiled. Deal.
Then I returned to reality and went back to work, smiling like a goofball the whole time.
The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off at four pm, and I hurried to save everything I was working on. I raced to the shower, shaving as fast, but safely, as I could— all over—washed, conditioned my hair, yadda, yadda, yadda. All that get pretty for a date shit. The main problem was the hair. I had a lot of it. And by a lot I meant it took over half an hour to dry it with a blow dryer. Yeah, literally, and I couldn’t blow dry it all in one shot on high and hot or it poofed out like a fro on crack, heroin, and meth.
So it was warm and medium while I balanced putting on my eye makeup, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed in between. Then I burnt myself twice using this great invention curling thing. Basically you stuck parts of your hair into it, it sucked it in, beeped for ten seconds, you opened it up, and voila perfect curls. It was awesome . I was not. I was all thumbs and I hadn’t been on a date in three years, so yeah, slightly out of practice.
Honestly, I was lucky I only burned myself twice.
And I had not worn a push up bra in forever because I had gotten too fat to fit in any of mine. Now I’d lost too much weight so they were all a bit big on me. I wanted to bang my head against the wall.
Oh, and all my sexy underwear fell off me. Honestly, I was okay with that. I hated panties. Luckily, I had a skirt that Old Navy had sent me the wrong size of and I had never returned tucked in the back of my dresser and I decided commando was just fine with me. And I found some halter top clubbing shirt someone had gotten for me as a joke for a conference in New Orleans, shoved my girls up, tied that bitch up around my neck, and went with it.
Somehow, by some miracle, I was ready by five when the doorbell rang. I clutched the handrail as I walked down the stairs realizing it had been probably two years since I’d worn heels like this, thanking my lucky stars we weren’t going anywhere and already missing my sneakers.
I opened the door and smiled at Conall. “Hi.”
“Heavenly mother of—” he breathed as he dropped the flowers in his hand. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
“Okay then. Good to know I normally look so hideous,” I drawled, turning around and carefully heading back up the stairs.
“No, no, not at all,” he blubbered as he followed after me, closing the door behind him. “It’s just, you look breathtaking, and I didn’t think you were dressing up for me.”
“We did say this was a date.” I shrugged as I reached into the fridge and pulled out the wine I’d put in there earlier to chill. I’d picked a strawberry one I liked since he’d decided to bring over take-out from an Omaha treasured steak house. I know, that was more a red wine meal, but real red wine gave me migraines. That was as close as I got. “A woman dresses up for her first date with a man. I was excited.”
“As am I.” He cleared his throat and set down the bags. “I’m glad you are. You look amazing.”
“Thanks. I have this or I put those ciders in the fridge we like.”
“Whichever. I think cider with steak might be better.”
“Okay.” Now I cleared my throat, nervous as could be as I switched out what was in my hand. As I turned and closed the fridge again, Conall was right in front of me.
“Do I have to wait until the end of the date for my kiss?” he murmured as his body moved closer. I shook my head, and he slid his hands around my waist, resting them on my ass as his lips found mine before moving them up my body and stopping when they were in my hair. The kiss was mind-blowing , so good I almost dropped the cider bottles. “You’re not wearing
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