Page 30 of Perfect Pitch

I reiterate my offer. “So, dinner tomorrow?”

She holds back her verbal answer for a second, two, but I don’t need it. I zoom in on her pulse throbbing against the translucent skin at the base of her neck.

I have her.

I refuse to admit to myself how much it’s going to hurt if I break her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Take our advice. If it has eyes and a mouth, it’s a guest at your table on a first date. Don’t order it from the menu.

—Fab and Delish

Trevor is reclining on my bed as I toss outfit after outfit in his direction. Frustrated, I roar, “He didn’t say where we were going.”

“Sorry, Austyn. You’re on your own.” Grumpily, he adds, “I’m still stunned stupid over the fact my older brother asked you out.”

Pausing in my fashion hysteria, I run out of the closet and press a kiss to Trevor’s cheek. His skin flushes beneath my lips. “You’re a sweetheart. He’s, what? Ten years older than me?”

“You’re going to be twenty, when? January?” I nod. He agrees. “Yeah. Mitch just turned thirty. Are you sure he didn’t mention where you were going?”

“No! And I didn’t want to pester him by asking.”

Trevor groans. “I get all the fun.” Then his eyes narrow on a pair of bright pink faux leather pants I had tossed into my pile. “Hand me those and that black off-the-shoulder sweater.”

“The one with the ruffle?” I dig it out and toss it to him.

“Yes. This should work when paired with...” He points to a pair of heeled sandals I’d chucked over my shoulder not ten minutes earlier. He quirks a brow at me. “Maybe add some chunky earrings?”

“You’re a genius,” I breathe and then tackle him onto the bed with the force of my hug.

He squeezes me around the waist before rolling me onto my back. I grin up at him happily before he pushes to his feet. “That’s what brothers are there for.”

“I’ve never had one before. I wouldn’t know.”

He lays the clothes on the bed before glancing at the clock. “Time to get ready, Cinderella. He’ll be here soon.”

I glance at my wrist and then flip out. “You’re right! Get out!”

Trevor laughs as he leaves me to the mess swirling around me—not just my clothes.

* * *

When Mitch seats me at the restaurant hours later, I make a mental note to kiss Trevor. Spot. Freaking. On. Dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt, our outfits complement perfectly. I take it as a good sign when his fingers linger on my neck as he pulls back before seating himself.

I open the menu, and my lips can’t help but quirk. If it weren’t for my grandfather, the adorable curmudgeon, taking me out to a fancy restaurant every birthday and for every major accomplishment, I’d feel a great deal more intimidated than I am right now.

When the waiter comes around for our drink order, I ask for San Pellegrino with a twist of orange. At Mitch’s quizzical look, I tip my head in confusion before asking him, “Is there a problem?”

“No. I just wasn’t sure if you’d like to share a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you, but no, I...” Before I can tell him I’m not legal to drink, his phone buzzes on the table.

He frowns down at it. “Unfortunately, I have to take this. I’ll split the sparkling with the lady.”

“Very good, sir.”

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment?” Mitch stands.

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