Chapter Fourteen
Caroline
Shit just got real. Wash had asked me on a real, actual, legitimate date. I squealed and beat on my steering wheel.
A horn blared behind me, the light ahead of me green as I sat still and lost my mind. I flipped him off, as is custom, and floored it toward my apartment.
Calm down, bitch. Get it together. A little pep talk never hurt, but I needed more. It was time to bring in the cavalry. I fished my phone out of my bag and dialed Terrell.
He picked up. “You done with the cadaver spelunking yet?”
“That’s gross. Can you come home early?”
“It’s like four o’clock on a Friday. I am at home.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”
“Not moving. Already broken into a particularly delicious bottle from Lynch Lane. Where’s the fire, anyway?”
I tore through the deck, the tick-tock of the clock an annoying mental side effect of first-date freakout. “I have a date.”
“Shut the front door.”
“Why do you sound so surprised? I’ve had dates before.”
“I can count on one hand the guys you’ve dated in the past three years, Caroline. And you didn’t accept the D from any of them. So cut the shit. Who’s the lucky fellow?” He slurped his wine, likely just to get under my skin.
“Wash.”
He sputtered, and I imagined wine spewing all over his pj’s. It was gratifying.
“You mean Washington Granade? You mean our boss?”
“Yes. That’s the one. Glad you’re firing on all cylinders, Terrell. I mean, he didn’t say it was a date, but—”
“Stop. Back up. Tell me word for fucking word exactly what he said. How he asked. Everything.”
I spent the rest of the short trip home describing in detail Wash’s facial ticks and, though it pained me, coming clean on my past indiscretions. Terrell blew up. Even I was impressed with the number of obscenities hurled at me in the space of thirty seconds. I dreaded going back to the apartment, but I had to get ready. It was a catch-22 situation.
I didn’t even have a chance to slip my key into the lock before Terrell threw the door open with a “You slippery bitch! Get the fuck in here and shower.”
When I hurried past he slapped my ass hard. “Ow! So you aren’t mad anymore?”
He was hot on my heels down the hall, drinking Lynch Lane wine as if it were going out of style.
“Impressed at your pussy control and subterfuge. But the next time you hide something like that from me, I may commit domestic violence. No secrets. Got me, lady?”
“Yes. I promise. I’m sorry. It was just so . . .”
“Hot and wrong. Yeah, I get it. I’m just sad I didn’t get it, if you know what I mean.”
“Straight. Promise.”
“Whatevs.” He went right to my closet as I stripped down and jumped in the shower yet again.
I got carried away and shaved it all, the whole kit and caboodle, and soaped up enough to make even the most exacting etiquette mistress happy. I was shiny as a new penny when I got out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Terrell had laid out a red sweater dress with a scoop neck and a pair of dark brown high-heeled boots. A black bra and thong were sitting out as well, next to a set of silver accessories on my dresser.
There was no point arguing with him. He had perfect taste. I shimmied into the thong and snapped the bra in place before drying my hair and doing my makeup. Terrell came in halfway through.
“More eyeliner.”
“I’ll look like a raccoon.” I stashed the pencil in my makeup tray.
He picked it up and handed it back to me. “No, you’ll look like a vamp. More eyeliner. Brown eyes like ours need to pop.”
I snatched the pencil back from him and did as instructed. He bossed the rest of the process, including more mascara than seemed feasible. But when we were done, I saw the error of my ways. I looked fabulous, the brown of my eyes taking on a rich golden hue and my lips luscious in a deep crimson.
“You are magic.” I smiled at his reflection.
He rolled his eyes to try to cover his matching smile. “I know. Get dressed. I’m tired of looking at your girly ass.”
I pulled the dress up, and Terrell zipped it for me. The boots and accessories completed the look.
“Prettiest breeder I ever saw.” Terrell ran his hands down my arms and gripped my hands. “Now go fuck the boss and give me all the details. Measurements are preferable.”
My heart did a backflip and didn’t stick the landing. “It isn’t a guaranteed-sex sort of thing. Besides, he’s been sort of hot and cold. He could go back to cold at any minute. I should probably have told him I had plans or something.” Not a chance.