Chapter 15
Scarlett
I’m at home cleaning. I don’t have as much time as I usually do because I have to get ready. I’m scrubbing the floor so hard, I’m surprised there’s not a hole in it.
“I can’t believe you agreed to go out with him,” I mumble. “Great. Now, I’m talking to myself.”
I scrub and scrub. “It’ll be fine. I’m not going to kiss him, that’s for sure.
That would be like kissing a tiger. He acts all nice one minute, but he already showed me his stripes.
Plus, tigers bite, look what happened to Roy.
So, kissing is out. What the hell do I wear if I don’t want to get kissed? ”
I abandon my scrubbing and video call Jason. I need advice on an outfit and on how to navigate tonight. Jason always gives an honest opinion. I love my girls, but they say anything looks cute.
“Hey, babe. How you doing?”
“Jason! I need help!” I panic. “What do I wear tonight for a…meeting…with a guy I’m not trying to go on a date with?”
“Hold on, back up. What?”
I sigh. “You know the new client who just signed up?”
“Oh, that guy?” He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “The one who requested you. I remember him. Is that who you’re meeting with? ”
My face has turned red. This is so embarrassing.
What is this guy doing to me? I’m the queen of cool, calm, and collected.
This guy comes into my life, made me lose my shit, and stopped my ability to reason with reality and just say no.
I’m calling someone to pick an outfit out for a non-date.
A non-date I agreed to when I definitely shouldn’t have.
“He may have caught me at a vulnerable time. I agreed to meet up with him tonight. The way he explained why we should hang got me,” I concede.
“Shut up! Girl, he looked at you like he was about to devour you inch by inch. You sure it’s not a date?”
“I was literally just thinking he’s like a tiger.” I shake my head to get back on track. “Listen, it’s not a date! I need to look professional tonight. I don’t want him to get any ideas.”
“You’re losing it and sound kind of nervous. Nervous like you’re getting ready for a date.”
“Nope. It’s not a date. I’m not nervous.”
“You’re sweating.”
“I’ve been cleaning.”
“Right.” He exaggerates the word. “Okay, how about a jumpsuit?”
“I have a sleeveless black one that’s a halter, I think.”
“Cool, try that with some heels. Accessorize, accessorize, accessorize! Go with gold jewelry. Send me a picture of the finished product. I’d better get details on what happens with that sexy hunk tonight!”
“Wait! I don’t have heels! What do you think I am? A hooker?”
“Just because someone owns heels, doesn’t make them a hooker.” He tells me with an eye roll. “Do you have wedges? ”
“Yes, I can walk in those.”
“Those will work.”
“On it!”
“I mean, unless you want me to trade places with you. I don’t think he’d mind if a hot guy showed up in your place.”
I smile ear to ear. Jason always lightens the mood.
“I’m sure he would love that. He might be confused if you showed up at my house, though.”
“Damn. Next time then.”
I start laughing. “Thanks, Jay! I love you!”
“Love you! Have fun, babe!”
I finish cleaning and start getting ready, following Jason’s suggestions. I add some red lipstick and leave my straight hair down my back.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I try to calm myself. I don’t know why I’m freaking out. I’m just hanging out with a client. No big deal. So what if I turn to slush around him? Sure, he’s the hottest guy I’ve seen in a while, but that doesn’t mean a thing.
A knock sounds at my door ten minutes later. I send Jason a quick picture on my way to answer it. Then I open the door and can’t help but gawk at Matt.
He’s wearing a fitted, navy blazer, white, V-neck shirt, and navy slacks. He looks proper in a casual way. His hands are placed in his pockets, looking like he’s posing for a magazine cover. I see the look in his eyes Jason mentioned—like I’m dinner. I like it.
My phone goes off, pulling me out of my stupor. It’s Jason giving me a thumbs up. Matt looks down and frowns. Is he jealous? It’s kind of fun to mess with him. I don’t say anything to correct the awkwardness. I try to act cool.
“Long time no see.” I give him a teasing grin. “You ready to go?”
“I’m ready if you are.” He waits until I lock my front door, then starts walking next to me down the path.
He pulls a little ahead of me and opens the passenger door of his red car. There’s a single red rose waiting on my seat.
I turn to him, unimpressed. “This isn’t a date. Flowers aren’t a requirement.”
I secretly love him being a gentleman and getting me flowers, but I’m trying to put up a front. This isn’t supposed to be a date!
“Get in the car, Miss Scarlett.”
He stands there, waiting for me to move. I debate arguing with him, but the look he’s giving me—the don’t-fuck-with-me face—is making me relent. I’m breaking a lot of my own rules for this one. I have no idea why, but I’m finding it hard to say no.
Once I sit down, he closes the door behind me. The interior is all black leather, and there are a thousand buttons. It smells like new car.
How does he drive this thing? I’m scared if I move, it’ll trigger something, like an ejection seat.
He gets in the driver seat and turns to me. “It’s not flowers. It’s a single scarlet rose, perfect for you.”
“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You want your seat heater on? It’s cold outside.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
I’m giving him as much attitude as I can. I need to make these boundaries clear.
He starts driving down the road, making me think of Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles .
As he shifts, his watch catches my eye, making him more irresistible.
What is it about a guy who wears a watch?
Orderly and polished vibes are sexy, I guess.
I’m ten seconds away from jumping him. I need to pull myself out of this fantasy.
“Mr. Texas doesn’t have a truck? Surprising.”
“I do,” he responds, with nothing else to add.
Him in a truck sounds even sexier. He’s making himself more alluring. This is going to be the longest night of my life. I agreed to torture myself.
I can’t figure out why Matt is so appealing. He isn’t my usual type; I tend to go for the sensitive bad boy on a motorcycle with tattoos. Matt is the complete opposite. He’s an ambitious, masculine man with no tattoos in sight.
Maybe it’s why he’s so attractive—he’s different.
I love how he takes control and does chivalrous things. Other than when he almost crashed into me and acted like an asshole.
Yes, focus on that. He’s king of the dirtbags. You can’t fall for him, Scarlett . He’s only acting nice because he wants to get in your pants. He doesn’t even live here. You can’t date a client.
I’m so immersed thinking about the things that should be keeping me away from the man next to me, I don’t realize we’re in downtown until he pulls in front of the movie theater.
I do love this place. It still has an old, classic feel.
They even put the movie titles up in big letters on the front before the box office.
They like to keep it authentic—like you’re back in the thirties.
I just looked at the movies the other day, but the titles have changed since then. They’ve been replaced with movies starring Scarlett Johansson.
“As promised, a movie. I rented out the theater, so you pick whatever you’d like,” he states casually, as though everyone rents out theaters all the time.
“Are you the one who had them change the movies? Are you a big fan of Scarlett Johansson?”
“Ah, you noticed. I’m a big fan of Scarlett Daniels.”
He changed the movies to have something involving my name? That’s cute. I bite my lip staring at him.
It’s not a date!
He gets out of the car. I do the same before he can get my door. I’m going to go pay for the tickets. Changing the movies and renting out a theater sounds like something that would happen on a date. A romantic, cute date. I need to do something to make it clear we are not on a date.
I rush forward to the box office window, but before I can talk to anyone, he places his hand on my lower back and leans into my side. “This way. It’s all taken care of.”
Of course it is.
Renting a theater out would probably entail movie tickets already. Where is my brain?
He opens the door and leads me inside with his hand still on my lower back. The heat from his skin burns into me, but I don’t pull away like I should.
Once we step inside, I’m diverted from his touch. It’s eerily empty except for a few staff members. Movie theaters with no one around are kind of creepy.
“You want anything?” he asks.
I usually get a blue drink, but it’ll turn my teeth colors. I want to keep up my appearance around him, even though I shouldn’t care. There are dinner options at this theater. They’ll bring it to your seat, but my stomach has a thousand butterflies taking up space. I shake my head no.
“No popcorn? How can you have a full movie experience with nothing to snack on?” He’s looking at me like I’ve just committed a crime. “I’ll get us some popcorn and soda. If you want some, just take some of mine. Or, I have other things you can snack on,” he teases with a mischievous grin.
“You did not just say that.” I roll my eyes. “You sound like you’re fifteen.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m far from fifteen.”
My heart starts beating like a hummingbird and sweat is starting to accumulate on my forehead.
They must’ve forgotten the air conditioning. Movie theaters usually feel like Antarctica, but today a heat wave has rolled in.
“Can you get me a beer?”
He nods and orders. I’m looking forward to the beer—it sounds refreshing and it’ll take the edge off. Maybe help cool me off from this heat.
“What movie did you decide on?” he asks, taking the popcorn and drink holder.
“ Avengers okay?”
“Sounds good.”
We walk into the right theater. The lights are still on with no other person in sight. It’s so quiet you can hear our footsteps as we walk to our seats.
The moment I’m in a chair, I take a big gulp of my beer.
Us sitting down must’ve been the cue to start the movie.
The lights fade, and the previews begin.
I can’t concentrate on what they’re playing or all the bad things I should be remembering about Matt.
Instead, I’m focused on the man next to me and the smell of sandalwood and cologne.
I’m losing control.