Early Saturday evening, Michelle peeked through the blinds of her bedroom window when she heard the car door slam. She watched Damien swagger around the front of his car to the sidewalk. He wore a light green tailored shirt and dark dress pants. Her eyes widened at the sight of his face. He’d traded-in the beard for a well-trimmed mustache and goatee. His shaggy hair was gone, replaced by a sexy cropped style. Super short on the sides, thick and textured on top.
Holy God. The man was gorgeous, and he was here for her.
She fanned herself as the temperature rose in the room. Or was she on fire? She couldn’t tell and didn’t care.
Damien glanced up.
She snatched her fingers from between the slats and leaped back from the window as if she’d just seen a snake, hoping he had not noticed her. It’d been a lifetime since she felt this nervous about a first date. A sip of wine and a cleansing breath calmed the whirlpool swirling in her stomach.
It was time to stop over-thinking, choose a dress and carry her butt downstairs.
The doorbell rang and panic set in.
Michelle wiggled out of her dress and searched her closet for a different one. Red was too soon—whatever that meant.
Maybe dress number nine would work.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish