Page 26 of The Perfect Distraction

Chuckling, he said, “I usually knock off early on Friday. Can you be ready by five?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” she huffed as she peered out the kitchen window for the fifth time.

She’d seen Colton pull into his driveway at four thirty and expected him to come over at any moment. Once again, she’d tried on several outfits before she’d settled on a black knit dress and black wedges. She’d done her homework (because that’s what teachers did), and she’d learned that Bay Harbor was an affluent resort community with high-dollar shops and restaurants surrounding a yacht club. Based on her research, she’d decided that she wouldn’t look as touristy if she dressed up a bit (well, dressy for her). She’d also put up her hair in a neat chignon (another of her favorite words), leaving a few strands free around her face.

Since this was their second outing, she’d expected to feel less anxious, but she’d been wrong. Maybe it was because they were driving somewhere together versus walking a few blocks into town. Or maybe it was because it was Friday night and weekends lent themselves to more possibilities—more alcohol, more talking, more kissing?

“Oh God. Stop it!” she shouted.

“Beth? Are you okay?”

Caught up in her crazy musings, she’d forgotten that she’d left the kitchen door open and anyone could hear her through the screen. Of course, Colton had chosen that exact moment to show up.

Snatching up her purse, she hurried out the door, smoothing down her dress as she went.

“Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Tilting his head to the side, he studied her closely as if he didn’t quite believe her.

Pasting on a cheerful smile, she said, “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but first I have to say that you look great. I like the dress.”

“Oh. Thank you. You look nice too.” Tonight, he was wearing dark-blue dress slacks and a striped dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It looked like he’d dressed up a bit for the occasion too, and she was instantly glad she’d worn a dress.

“Shall we go?” he asked, offering his arm to her.

He might have sounded formal, but he gave her a teasing smile like he was purposely playing up the role of the dashing gentleman.

Smiling back at him, she said, “Yes, we shall.” Then she looped her arm through his and let him lead her out the door.