Grabbing my phone, I text Fisher.
Me: I have nothing to wear.
He responds almost seconds later, despite me not expecting him to.
Fisher: Did all your clothes grow legs and walk out of the hotel room?
Me: Well, no. But I’m just not vibing with any of them tonight. They’re too colorful. I want something softer. Like a light pink. Or an ivory.
Fisher: I’ll see what I can do.
Me: I don’t expect you to do anything. I just needed to complain.
Fisher: Like I said, I’ll see what I can do.
I press my lips together, shaking my head. This man.
I cross worrying about an outfit off my list and focus on doing my makeup. I’ve been what most would call a girly girl since Iwas young. Maybe it’s because my mom is a former model, but I’ve always been drawn to fashion and makeup. I like making myself feel pretty. And it’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty without it, but I enjoy taking care of myself. There’s something therapeutic about it.
I’m finishing up with my hair, having let it down from the up-do I wore earlier today and styling my curly strands into something that more closely resembles waves, when the door to the hotel room buzzes and opens a second later.
I poke my head out of the bathroom and grin when I find Fisher with a garment bag.
“What did you find for me?” I reach eagerly for the bag, and he hands it over with a small smile.
“I think you’ll love it. I hope so at least.”
I hang up the garment bag and unzip it with a giddy pep in my step. My jaw drops at the dress.
It’s short, but not indecently so, in a silky ivory color. I take it off the hanger, nearly moaning at how luxurious the fabric feels. When I turn it around, I gasp at the plunging back.
“It’s beautiful. I couldn’t have picked something better myself.”
His eyes squint with happiness. “I’m happy you like it. I’m going to hop in the shower and get ready for dinner. Are you all done in the bathroom?”
“I am.” I lay the dress down on the bed, admiring it some more. It’s simple, but it’s stunning. I run my fingers over the fabric, marveling at the way it feels like water.
Fisher grabs a nice change of clothes and shuts himself away in the bathroom.
While Fisher is busy getting ready, I sort through my shoes I have with me and decide on a pair of sky-high black heels. I wore tennis shoes all day and brought my cane with me, so I think I can get away with them.
The shower cuts off, and I know it doesn’t take him long to be ready, so I pack up my clutch before slipping into the dress. It ties into a bow at the top of my shoulders, so I’ll need his help with that.
When he steps out of the bathroom, I have to stifle my groan at how damn good he looks. His brown hair is already getting longer again, but I don’t mind it. He’s changed into a navy-blue button down tucked into a pair of black pants. I immediately want to get him naked. But I know I can’t. Not just because we’re strapped for time, but because I don’t want to mess with his feelings until I know, truly know, that this is what I want. Even if the idea of leaving him steals the very air from my lungs, there’s still a part of me filled with fear.
“You look good,” I say when I finally find my voice.
He looks me up and down, eyes hungry. “Not as good as you.”
I turn around and brush my hair over my shoulder. “I need your help with the bow. I can’t do it myself.”
The warm press of his body is firm behind mine. His fingers work deftly to secure the bow. He takes extra time straightening out the actual bow part and making sure the ends of it hang evenly. It’s such a simple thing, it barely takes him any extra time to perfect it, but it’s the fact that he knows I care about the little details and takes care of it before I even ask.
When he’s finished, he steps back and I instantly miss the heat of his body.
Clearing his throat, he points around me. “I need to get my glasses.”
“Oh. I’ll grab them for you.”