Page 53 of Puck Princess

I guess I’m going to be using that tub sooner than I thought.

“You look incredible,” Owen says when I open the door.

I took a long bubble bath before beginning the arduous process of scrubbing, shaving, and lotioning any and everything he might see, touch, or taste tonight. I wanted him to be intoxicated by me.

Judging by the way his eyes are doing more laps than Nascar, I think I did a good job.

“You have good taste.” I step out of my room in the dress and heels.

“In women or dresses?”

“Both.” I press a hand to his firm chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Owen is in a sleek black suit. It’s fitted and simple and perfect. He holds out his arm, and I hook mine around it.

It feels like we are going to prom. It feels like a dream.

It feels like we are real…

A blacked out Escalade arrives as we step through the front doors of the hotel, and we are whisked to The Exchange, a wine bar and steakhouse on the main strip.

With romantically dim lighting, dinner by reservation, and only a handful of tables in each section, it’s quaint. Too quaint for anyone to loiter in the corners just to get a picture of Owen Sharpe and his baby momma.

Suddenly, I realize the entire restaurant is empty.

“Did they just open?”

“No.” Owen looks uniquely proud of himself. “I reserved the entire place for the next three hours.”

I gasp. “Owen…”

“Don’t you dare say I’m doing too much,” he warns me, suddenly serious. “I’m not. You’re worth all of it and more, Callie. I love showing you off, but that’s not all this is for me. Whether we’re in the middle of a crowd or alone in my apartment, I want you just the same. That’s all I want you to know.”

I don’t tell him he’s doing too much, but only because my throat is too tight to say much of anything.

I’ve never been taken care of like this before. No one has ever gone to so much trouble to treat me, and I don’t even know what to say.

The waiter takes us to a table in the corner overlooking the labyrinth of city streets below, and I actually pinch myself. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Owen takes my hand in the center of the table, his thumb running over my knuckles. “That means I’m not doing this often enough.”

“No. I mean, this is amazing, but…” I choose my words carefully, not wanting to stick my foot in my mouth like I did on the plane.“I like being at home with you, Owen. I like watching hockey on the couch and eating take out and falling asleep in our bed. I like doing normal things with you.”

The smile that stretches across his face breaks my heart and pieces it back together. “I like doing normal things with you, too. But you’re extraordinary, Callie. Tonight, let me give you a night worthy of you.”

Together, with no one around, we enjoy a charcuterie board and several tapas, including marinated steak with roasted tomatoes and chimichurri. Owen hands me the dessert list and tells me to pick anything I want.

But when it comes time to order my lemon curd custard and a triple-chocolate chocolate cake, Owen asks the waiter to bring us dessert on the roof.

“The roof?” I ask, letting him take my hand and pull me from my chair. “What’s on the roof?”

“Another surprise.”

Owen guides me out the door and over to a balcony. We walk through a rooftop garden and around to a private nook in the corner. There’s a deep, comfy couch complete with blankets and pillows and candles. In front of it is a projector screen.

“What are we doing?” I ask, taking it all in.

“I mean it’s not a TV screen in an apartment and these aren’t hockey jerseys and takeout, but I thought we could do what all couples do on a first date and watch a movie.”

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