“For when I call you later. To make sure you’re not going out with a serial killer.”
“Sammy, you watch too much TV,” Andi chided.
“Um, no,” Sammy snorted, then patted the empty space beside her on the couch. “Don’t make me dust this couch cushion for Andi butt-prints.” Andi laughed as she went on. “Besides, TV watching’s just like masturbation and drinking. It’s not bad for you if you’re not doing it alone.”
“I’m not sure about that, but okay, I give up,” Andi said.
“Good, so what’s it going to be? We should’ve set one up last night, too—I thought about it after you left.” Sammy swept up her phone.
“Uh.” Andi picked a word she never had reason to use. “Rambunctious.”
“Okay. I’ll call like twenty minutes in. If you start acting like I’m telling you there’s an emergency, I’ll play along, and if you say rambunctious, then I’ll call in the troops.”
Andi realized there would be no other way around this. “Fine,” she said, and rolled her eyes affectionately at the other woman, before walking back down the hall.
“Hey, wait!” Sammy shouted after her.
“Hey, what?” Andi shouted back.
Sammy apparently twisted on the couch and sat on the armrest, leaning out so that she could waggle her spoon at Andi. “If you get laid, I want details!”
Andi waved her away and ran back into her room to hide.
What did one wear when you were meeting a man-slash-dragon whose shoes cost more than your five nicest outfits combined? And where were they going tonight? She’d only seen him in suits and dress shirts—and without any clothes at all—but she’d feel awfully silly if she dressed up and he arrived in jeans. She ripped through half her closet in a fit of indecisiveness and wished that she could call in Sammy for a consult, but there was too much she couldn’t—no, shouldn’t—explain. She didn’t want memory erasing to be on the table for her best friend too. She’d shared everything with Sammy ever since she had moved in, so no wonder this felt weird now, but this was the kind of secret that was also a burden. Sammy had enough on her plate. If Sammy would even believe her—which was a stretch too—because would Andi have believed her if their roles were reversed? Hell no. She’d have probably thought Sammy had spent too long inhaling gasoline fumes.
In the end, Andi decided on wearing black capri jeans, comfortable chunky heels, a form-fitting blue top that matched the streak in her hair, and a black sweater that tied at the waist. Cute, but not sexy, because sexy might be foolish.
And then the doorbell rang, and she heard a thump. She glanced at her phone—it was only nine—and she didn’t think Damian would be early, but maybe Uncle Lee hadn’t taken no for an answer?
“I’ll get it!” she shouted and ran up the hallway to possibly head off another of her uncle’s emissaries at the pass.
She reached the door before Sammy had even gotten up off the couch, and peeked out the peep hole. There was no one there. She opened the door carefully and found a delivered box waiting. Sammy was always ordering car parts off of eBay…
“Sammy…” she began, pulling the box inside, but then found that it was addressed to her.
“What?” Sammy asked.
“Never mind. I forgot I ordered something the other day,” Andi said, walking quickly back to her room.
“Cute outfit!” Sammy hollered after her.
“Thanks!” Andi shouted back before closing the door.
There was no return address on the box, and the label was typed—no handwriting. But precious few people knew where she lived. She shook it, and when she didn’t hear anything thump inside, she opened it. Inside, under a layer of deep purple tissue paper, was a sleek black silk dress so soft it kept trying to slip out of her hands. It had spaghetti straps and it was bias cut so that one of her legs would show more if she put it on—it was the definition of sexy.
Was this Damian’s hint for his expectations about this evening? Or did he just want to make sure she didn’t embarrass him when they went someplace nice? She wanted to be angry at him for assuming, but as she slid the dress over her head and it fell around her perfectly, she found she couldn’t stay pissed. It was just that lovely.
She spent the rest of the time putting on makeup and doing her hair—running an iron through it so that it’s straightness would be even straighter; deciding between strappy black heels and gold heels—and picking silver flats instead—because most of her nice jewelry was silver. At 9:58, she went back into the living room.
Sammy’s eyes bugged out of her head as she clutched her heart in mock disbelief, and then she started dramatically rummaging through her purse.
“What?” Andi asked her.
“I’m pulling out my rosary to start praying for you. Forget serial killers. With a dress like that on, you’re definitely going to murder a man.”
“Sammy!” Andi laughed.
Sammy put her purse down and laughed with her. “No, seriously, why the outfit change?”
Because the guy I’m seeing wanted to see me in this? seemed a bit too strange to share. “I just felt like stepping it up a bit.”
“And when’d you get that dress?”
She’d forgotten that Sammy had already seen everything in her closet. “A while ago,” Andi lied—and the doorbell rang just in time to save her from any more awkward questions. Sammy gave her a smug look but stayed on the couch, and Andi could feel her roommate’s future snarky comments percolating.
With a sigh, Andi opened the door, there was Damian. He looked like he always did—competent and strong—but he was dressed rather…normally. Jeans and a T-shirt and a snug fitting leather jacket. He was still hot, but they were definitely dressed for different places, and at seeing her, he gasped.
“You look amazing.”
Between his expression of surprise, and the fact that he wasn’t taking credit for it, she could’ve hit herself. The dress was clearly from Uncle Lee’s henchwoman, meant for her to wear next weekend.
“Oh, God,” Andi said, backpedaling into the living room while turning red. “I totally misread things. I’ll go change—”
“No,” he said and caught her wrist before she could disappear. “I would be an idiot to not want to be by your side tonight.”
She slowed down, feeling the heat where his skin touched hers, flowing over and across her body like electricity. “Okay.” Her black clutch was on the nearby table; she picked it up and turned to him. “I’m ready.”
He let his eyes travel over her again, then smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t get too rambunctious!” Sammy shouted after her as she closed the door.
Chapter 15
Damian gallantly offered his arm to her as they walked down the metal staircase, past Eumie’s now-closed Greek bakery downstairs, and she took it—just for the excuse to touch him again—feeling the bunch of his bicep underneath his leather coat. He opened the winged passenger door of his car—just as clean as the first time she’d seen it, somehow—and let her arrange herself inside before closing it gently and walking around to his own. By the time he’d gotten there, she’d slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet underneath her dress on the seat—her preferred mode of passengering.