Page 13 of Sheltered

I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. “How about we go to dinner on Saturday evening, and if things go well, we can plan a day together on Sunday?”

“Really? That sounds like it could be fun. What would we do on Sunday?” she asked.

I couldn’t have asked for a better response. “I don’t quite know yet, but I love that you’re already convinced dinner will go well and that we’ll be spending that time together on Sunday.”

The silence stretched between us, and it went on for so long, I worried that our connection might have been bad. “Harlow?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said.

“I didn’t hear you say anything.”

“That’s because I didn’t. Is it a bad thing that I’m optimistic about Saturday?” she asked.

It was clear to me that so many years out of the dating scene had left Harlow feeling a bit unsure. I liked her enough to want to try to change her mindset. For now, all I could do was offer her reassurance. “It is not a bad thing,” I promised her. “In fact, my wheels are already turning with possibilities for a fun day together on Sunday.”

I wished I could have seen her face when she replied, “Something tells me I’m in for a real treat.”

If I had anything to say about it, she would be. “I aim to please, Harlow.”

Though it hadn’t been my intention, it sounded as though Harlow might have taken my words to mean something else, because she rasped, “So, are we going to meet somewhere on Saturday?”

I had to ignore the way her voice sounded. If it had been this long for her, I didn’t think coming on too strong too soon would do me any good. “If you’re more comfortable with that, I’m happy to meet you somewhere. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do this the right way and pick you up for dinner.”

“I’m okay with you picking me up.”

“Perfect. How about you text me your address when we get off the phone, and I’ll pick you up around six o’clock on Saturday to take you to The Ridge?” I suggested.

“That works for me.” I heard a distant chime come through the line. “Oh, um, my next client just arrived, so I’ve got to go.”

“It’s no problem at all. Don’t forget to text me, and I’ll see you on Saturday,” I told her.

“Okay. Sounds great.”

Following a beat of silence, I said, “I’m really glad you called me, Harlow.”

She hesitated briefly. “Yeah, me, too.”

We said goodbye to one another and disconnected our call. And for the rest of the day, whenever thoughts of Harlow popped into my head, I didn’t feel the need to push them to the back of my mind. She’d called, and now I had a reason to hope.

FOUR

Harlow

When I’d gotten myself ready for the date at the bar last weekend, I had some expectations—or maybe it was hopes—about where things would lead. I thought Rob and I might hit things off, decide to have another date, and choose to grab a cup of coffee somewhere in the days that followed.

Not only had I not anticipated Rob being a complete jerk, but I never imagined I’d meet someone as wonderful as Blaze that same evening.

So, it was no surprise that what was happening now was something I hadn’t exactly prepared myself for. I was standing in my bedroom, giving myself a once-over, and marveling at the fact I’d just gotten myself dressed to impress, because Blaze was taking me to The Ridge, the town’s fanciest restaurant.

From the moment I finally reached out to Blaze on Wednesday, and we agreed to go out on a date this weekend, I could barely contain my excitement. I couldn’t wait to have this night out with him, and I was merely grateful for the full schedule at my salon this week. It helped to make it feel as though the remainder of the week was passing by quickly, getting me closer and closer to the day I’d finally be able to see him again.

I still had some nerves about where this would lead us in the long term, but for tonight, I couldn’t say I was anything less than eager for a wonderful night, especially because I continuously recalled the evening we’d had out last weekend.

It was difficult not to remember the way he made me feel when we were at the diner, and he even managed to make our phone conversation mid-week feel special. I could only assume that a night like tonight—one that was planned and had clear intentions—would be even more spectacular than everything else we’d had to this point.

Blaze proved I was right to be optimistic, because it seemed that no sooner had I descended the stairs and confirmed I had everything I needed in my purse, the doorbell rang.

He was on time.

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