Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Oh, Moll. You’ll be beautiful, even if you wear that.”
We look at each other and laugh.
“It’s pretty dull, huh?” I say.
“Well, for a hot date with a hockey player, I think we can do better.”
Mr. Darcy gets up and comes over to us, plopping back down beside Gram, who puts a hand on his back and slowly rubs up to his neck and back again.
“I’ve never been good at this,” I say, looking at my hands, which are balled in my lap. “I guess I thought I was okay at it with Zach, but when he told me I’m uptight and insufferable, I felt like I’d been fooling both him and myself. I’m just not a woman who throws on an outfit from her closet and looks effortlessly beautiful. And Kit’s teammates are all married to those types of women. I don’t compare.”
Gram reaches over and puts a hand on top of both of mine. “That night you and Kit went looking for Mr. Darcy, how do you think you looked?”
I smile. “Like a drowned rat, I imagine. Plastered down hair and red-faced.”
“Why do you think he stayed, then?”
I shrug. “Kit’s a nice guy.”
“He helped you look for hours on end in an ice storm,” Gram says. “Because he likes you, Molly. You. My smart, beautiful, funny granddaughter. I’ve always seen you for who you really are, and he does, too. It’s you who needs convincing, after what that little prick Zach did to your self-esteem.”
My entire body is wound tight with tension. I think it’s because I know she’s right. Kit does like me. He wouldn’t care if I wore this outfit for our date. Somehow, he doesn’t like me in spite of my weirdness and anxiety, but because of it. And I don’t want to ruin that.
“I like him, too,” I tell Gram.
“I have an idea.”
I look up at her, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief.
“Let’s take a cab to that little row of boutiques we walk past sometimes and find you something to wear tonight. Something that will make you feel as beautiful as you are.”
“Oh, Gram, I c—”
She puts a hand up to stop me. “I won’t take no for an answer. I’m taking my granddaughter shopping for a new outfit, complete with some lacy underthings.”
“Gram.” I shake my head and smile.
“Just not one of those thongs,” she says, frowning. “I’ve never understood those. Aren’t they in your butt crack all the time?”
I burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t know, Gram. I wear briefs.”
“We can do better than that.”
“Fashionable clothes won’t look right on me. My awkwardness will shine through.”
“Let’s go, we don’t have all day.”
I take a deep breath, in and out. “Are you sure? Kit’s used to my regular clothes. I don’t think he cares.”
“Well, I care,” Gram says, standing up. “Even I didn’t wear briefs when I was dating your grandfather.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I grin at her, no longer worried. “And thank you, Gram.”
Three hours later, I open the door to our apartment and Kit’s eyes widen when he sees me.
“You look beautiful, Molly,” he says, passing me a long, white box.
“Thank you.”
Gram and a saleslady at one of the boutiques we went to assured me the sheer black blouse I’m wearing was the way to go. It has a deep V neck and lacy details on the three-quarter sleeves, the delicate buttons shiny and black.
Beneath the blouse and dark skinny jeans, I’m wearing a matching black lace bra and panty set. And even though I don’t think Kit will be seeing them tonight, Gram was right—I feel a lot sexier and more confident than I did in my everyday bra and panties.
“Roses?” I look up at Kit after peeking into the box and seeing a dozen long-stemmed red roses. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”
“Is your Gram here?” he asks, peeking inside the apartment.
“Oh, no. She’s walking Mr. Darcy.” I step aside. “Sorry, I should have invited you in.”
Kit grins and shakes his head. “Let’s get this date underway.”
I leave the flowers on the kitchen table, knowing Gram will have them beautifully arranged in a vase when I get home later. Then I put on my parka, leaving my Arctic boots behind in favor of the stylish black booties Gram bought me.
“We’re starting at a restaurant a friend of mine owns,” Kit says. “Just having a drink there, though. I have other plans for dinner.”
My heart races as Kit takes my hand right before we reach the stairs. He smells like woodsy cologne and leather from the jacket he’s wearing. The slight nervous excitement I’ve always felt around him is heightened tonight.
He drives us to a downtown restaurant called Aura, where he gives the host his name and we’re led to the bar. The restaurant is dark inside, candles burning in little jars on the tables. The décor is a mix of upscale and rustic finishes, the savory scent of grilled meat in the air.