The work day—like seemingly all of my work days lately—passed in a blur. By the time we packed up and arrived home, my heart was pounding with anticipation for the dinner. I’d texted my parents shortly after the conversation with Ashton, asking them to take Levi for the night. They’d agreed, and said they’d pick him in time for me to get ready.

Sure enough, at six on the dot, in the midst of me changing Levi’s diaper, my buzzer rang. The knock on the door came a full minute later, as my parents labored to get up all four flights of stairs.

“Come in,” I called out. “Door’s open.”

“Hi, sweetie,” my mom greeted as they entered. “Long time no see.”

I hefted Levi into my arms, and walked to greet my parents. My mom and dad in turn gave me a kiss on the cheek, then a kiss atop Levi’s little head.

“How have you guys been?” I asked, then, turning to my dad, “How’s the arm, Dad?”

He grimaced, and replied, “You know. Screwed up.”

“Too screwed up for you to hold your grandson?”

“Never,” he grinned.

“Good,” I returned, and passed Levi into his arms.

Dad’s face contorted with pain, and I immediately took Levi back.

“All right, Dad, take it easy. Mom, can you…?”

“Yes, of course honey,” she said hastily. “Your father is over-extending himself, as per usual. As though that wasn’t how he got the stupid injury in the first place.”

Dad rolled his eyes complacently. It was true; like father, like daughter. He always pushed himself past his breaking point, and generally ended up breaking something. His physical therapist would be getting invited to our Thanksgiving dinners soon enough.

Meanwhile, Mom marveled at Levi. “He gets bigger every time I see him!”

I nodded. “He’ll be taller than me any day now.”

My dad, having recovered from the spasm in his arm, gazed down at my son. “My grandson’s going to be a strapping young lad.”

I chuckled. Ever since my dad had become a grandfather, he’d taken to talking like an old man sitting on the porch of his country home, sipping sweet tea. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be purchasing suspenders and a straw hat.

Dad grabbed Levi’s diaper bag with his good arm while Mom wrapped the carrier around her chest.

“Okay, sweetie,” she said. “We’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for this date.”

“Uh, date? Who said anything about a date?”

“You did. You texted that you were going to dinner with a man. Isn’t that a date?”

I shook my head vehemently. “He’s my boss.”

I didn’t think it was wise to mention that something in me ached for it to be a date; my parents had raised me to be at least a bit more professional than that.

“Whatever you say, Harls,” my dad said. “We just want you to find a man that treats you right. Not like that asshole who shall not be named.”

“Language,” my mom scolded, but without any real conviction; my parents hated Kyle even more than I did, which was a feat unto itself.

“All right, well, have fun on your…work dinner,” Mom said.

“What time should we bring him back?” Dad asked.

My mom swiftly interrupted, saying, “How about we just keep him for the night?”

“Um, that sounds…nice,” I replied, and quickly added, “Just so I can get a decent night’s sleep, you know?”

They both nodded along with my crappy fib and said goodbye, instructing me to have a fun time at dinner and to try not to worry about Levi. With that, my parents strode out the door, and I was alone. Just me, and my thoughts.

Okay, so a part of me—a large part of me—had kind of, sort of hoped that this dinner might turn into a date. But that was a fantasy. The reasonable side of my brain had assumed that this was just a thank-you dinner with my boss.

Now that my parents had suggested it could be something more, I was on edge. Were they right? Ashton had seemed flirtatious, but also reserved. What if they were just projecting romantic intentions onto it because they were desperate for me to recover from the heartbreak of Kyle? My mind spun out as it ran computations on the probability of each scenario.

I looked down at my outfit; I hadn’t yet bothered to change after work today. Should I be wearing something else? It had been a long time since I’d fretted over my clothes, but this was the second time in a single day that I’d debated over what to don.

Giving in to my lesser instincts, I jogged to my room and stripped down to my underwear. Oh, shoot, my underwear! What if Ashton ended up seeing me in it? I shook the thought out of my mind as a total impossibility, but nevertheless, decided to change into something a little…sexier.

As I pulled my hottest lingerie set out of the drawer, I decided to tell myself that I was wriggling into the underwear to make myself feel more confident. Things maybe—no, definitely—wouldn’t come to Ashton seeing this lingerie.

Regardless, I found myself sliding into a plum-colored, scalloped bra with a matching thong. I looked into the full-length mirror, and was pleased to find that in this get-up, I wasn’t fixated on my stretch marks or my squishy bits here and there. In fact, I looked pretty damn hot.

See, the underwear was already instilling me with confidence! It totally didn’t matter if Ashton saw it or not! Realizing that I was beginning to buy into my own lie, I decided to completely indulge myself; Levi was with my parents for the night, and I was going to dinner with a billionaire. Might as well go whole hog on this one.

With that in mind, I grabbed a slinky black dress from my closet, one with wide shoulder straps, a cinched waist, and a form-fitting skirt that made me look like a tanner Marilyn Monroe. My golden locks bounced against my breasts, and my lips parted slightly as I admired my reflection. Not bad, Harley, not bad at all.

As I sifted through my jewelry box for some shiny baubles, my mind wandered to Ashton, a place it seemed to be wandering to an awful lot recently. What if he turned out to be the tyrant everyone said he was? This date could be a total disaster, and after that last one with Mark, I wasn’t sure I could handle another disastrous dining experience.

Maybe I’d been blindsided by how good Ashton was with Levi, and by those muscular arms sheathed in a collared shirt.

Or maybe everybody else is wrong, a voice in my head proffered. Maybe tonight, you’ll meet the real Ashton Swann.

But what then? What if one thing did, in fact, lead to another, and I allowed him to scoop me up in said arms and carry me into the night? I’ll just come out and say it. I hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time—and I mean a long time.

What if Ashton wanted to have sex? The prospect was intriguing, to put it mildly, but what if I’d…actually forgotten how to do it? Did all of my parts still work right? Should I be watching porn to brush up? Sleeping with Ashton would be fun, I imagined, but not if I was so self-conscious about my abilities that I couldn’t even get into it.

My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the screen.

I’m outside your apartment.

I quickly texted back, Who is this?

Ashton.

Huh?

How did you get my address?

Company directory.

Fair enough.

Another buzz.

I’d come upstairs to escort you properly, but there’s no street parking.

Typical San Bravado. For once, I was grateful for it; no parking meant Ashton couldn’t see my wreck of an apartment. A billionaire like him probably hadn’t seen a place like this in a long time, if ever.

I typed out, Be right down, then raced around the living room, grabbing lipstick and keys and shoving them, along with my phone, into my small clutch. Before high-tailing it out the door, I stopped for half a second in front of the entryway mirror, and gave myself a brief once-over.

Yup. Still got it.