Page 30 of Taking a King

Garrett

I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. I’ve spent most of the last week in Claire’s bed. We’ve probably spent more time naked together than not. There’s something different about this, though. It’s our first date. We’re going about things completely backwards, I know. Still, I want to do this right. There’s a certain pressure to make sure the night goes well.

I already know she and I are compatible in the bedroom. I shake my head and grin. More than compatible. We’re amazing together. The last five nights have been the best of my life. I’ve known for years how amazing Claire is. She’s kind, smart, funny and talented. It’s also not news that she’s gorgeous and sexy, even if I didn’t allow myself to notice that until the past few months. Being together like this has only served to prove what I already suspected. She’s damn-near the perfect woman. If not perfect, I think she just might be perfect for me. That’s a scary thought and one I shy away from. Instead, I focus on getting ready for our date.

This night isn’t formal, but I didn’t want to show up to pick her up wearing a t-shirt. I’m wearing jeans, but I tried to dress it up a little with a button-down shirt. It’s a mild night, so I roll the sleeves up to my elbows. My hair is too short to style so there’s not much else I can do with my appearance. I give myself another once-over in the mirror and decide I’m ready. I glance at my watch and see that I still have nearly an hour before I’m due to pick Claire up. I look around the little hotel room with a sigh.

It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and there’s a free breakfast in the morning. Sort of. It consists of cold cereal and pre-packaged muffins. But I’ve survived on worse over the years. I think back to the conversation with Claire when I’d told her I rented a hotel room. She’d been hurt and maybe a little pissed off that I wasn’t staying with her. That is, until I’d explained my reasoning. I’m still not entirely sure she understands, but she’s not mad anymore. And she agreed to go on a date with me, which I count as a win.

“What do you mean, you rented a hotel room?” She’d demanded. “Do you not want to stay here with me?”

I’d reached for her, but she’d moved smoothly out of reach. I’d sighed and tried to explain.

“That’s not it. I want to take you out on a real date. I want to show up at your door with flowers and pick you up in that ugly rental car and drive you to a nice restaurant that isn’t owned by your family.”

I’d let out a sigh. The conversation had taken a wrong turn. I needed to get it back on track before Claire kicked me out altogether.

“Listen,” I’d tried again. “I know we started this thing less on the traditional side than most people do.”

“You mean when I took you home and screwed your brains out on my couch the first night?” Claire had said with a hint of a smile. Her face had softened, and I could tell she wasn’t angry anymore.

Relieved, I’d grinned. “Exactly. I want to try to do one thing right.”

“Oh, you did that right,” she’d said, moving closer to me.

I’d kissed her, and she’d let me. “I want to take you out on a real date. I want to sit at a nice table with you and flirt and wonder if I’m going to get a kiss at the end of the night.”

She’d raised one eyebrow in that way I love. “Are you courting me, Mr. Young?”

“I’m trying to,” I’d said. “If you’ll let me. Stubborn woman.”

She’d smiled then and wound her arms around my neck. “I suppose,” she’d conceded. “Just tell me you’re not planning to stay in that hotel room for the rest of your leave?”

“Where do you want me to stay?” I’d asked, wanting to hear her say the words.

“Here,” she’d whispered. “With me.”

My heart had sped into overdrive with her words, but I’d somehow managed not to do a victory dance. Instead, I’d just smiled and kissed her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I’d wanted to take her out on Friday, but she’s scheduled to sing at Mack’s, so we’re going out on a Thursday night instead. Now that the time has come for our date, I’m feeling strangely nervous. I try to ignore my nerves, but it’s nearly impossible. I sit on the bed and pick up the remote to flip through the channels on the television. After a few minutes of channel surfing, I turn the TV off with another sigh. I stand and walk to the window to peer out. The view is of the parking lot, and I quickly lose interest in the few cars parked there. I turn and walk the length of the small room before turning and repeating the action. It takes me a few trips across the room before I realize I’m pacing. I heave a disgusted sigh and force myself to stop.

Why am I so nervous? This is Claire. She knows me as well as anyone and she likes me. This isn’t a typical first date. I already know we like one another, and I can already guess that it will end well. I already know we’re compatible in bed. I know how she likes to be kissed. Besides that, I also know her as a person. It’s not like we spent the last 8 years talking without getting to know each other. So, why do I feel like this is a turning point? Why does this feel like something bigger than just dinner?

I manage to calm some of my nerves by the time I drive to Claire’s apartment to pick her up. I pull to a stop out front and grab the bouquet of flowers I’d bought earlier from the passenger seat. I suck in a deep breath and let it out. Then I make my way up the stairs to her door. I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens before I get the chance. When I lay eyes on Claire, I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. It’s all I can do to remember to smile.

“Hi,” I say, lamely.

Claire’s face lights up in a wide smile. “Hi, back.”

I let my eyes roam over her. She’s done something different with her eyes, giving them a smokey look that makes the green stand out brilliantly. Her hair falls in soft waves down her back. She’s wearing a gauzy linen dress in a creamy off-white color that stops mid-thigh with some strappy shoes that give her an extra inch of height.

“Wow,” I say, unable to come up with something more eloquent. “You look amazing.”

A faint blush stains her cheeks making me think maybe she’s as nervous as I am. “Thank you,” she says. Her gaze goes to the bouquet I’d forgotten about. “Those for me?”

I glance down at the bouquet. “Yes,” I say, holding them out toward her. She smiles and reaches for them. Her eyes light up as she takes in the colorful blossoms.

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