Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Dara
I sink into the tub.
Thanks to a bath bomb that Rusti got me for my birthday, the water is lavender. The scent should match, but it’s more like grapes to me, which is weird.
My toes press against the tub floor to keep me in place. I’ve always wondered what it’s like for tall people who can stretch from one end to the other.
I close my eyes and let the piping hot water that will probably make me look like a wrinkly prune when I’m sixty massage my muscles.
The photo shoot today required a million steps up and down a sharp incline and a ladder that nearly took my life.
The pictures were totally worth it, but now I need a little R&R.
Imagining sandy beaches and one particular hot architect, I’m dozing off when my phone buzzes on the stool beside the tub.
“Oh, crap,” I say, grabbing the towel behind my head.
I dry my hands and peek at the screen.
My stomach spirals into a well of joy.
I grab the device and unlock it to read the message.
Wade: Are you busy tomorrow evening?
I have no idea. I forgot to check.
Me: No. Are you?
Wade: Would you like to join me for dinner? I could pick you up at six.
I can’t type fast enough. But once the words are printed on the screen, I wait a few seconds before hitting send. I don’t want to look thirsty.
Me: Six is perfect. May I ask where we are going?’
Wade: You may ask, but I will not tell you.
Me: How do I know what to wear?
Wade: It doesn’t matter.
Me: Give me something. Jeans or a dress.
Wade: It doesn’t matter.
Fucker.
Me: I suddenly became unavailable.
Wade: I will be at your place at six. I will pick you up and put you in your dream car, and you will accompany me to the place of my choice.
Me: You seem pretty certain.
Wade: No. I am absolutely certain.
Me: I do like a confident man.
Wade: Tomorrow at six.
Me: We’ll see.
Wade: Good night, Dara.
Me: Sweet dreams, Wade.
And then, because he went out of his way to drive me crazy, I do the only thing I can do. I take a picture of the water and cut the photo off just before it shows anything important.
Wade: Ms. Alden …
Me: Phone is dying. Good night, Mr. Mason.
I power off my phone and toss it to the floor. Then my fingers slip under the water, and I go back to my architect fantasy.