fun.
The First Date
“So this boy almost killed you and now you’re letting him take you to dinner.” Nana knitted, her needles automatically counting out the pattern without any conscious thought. Years of practice.
I looked at my most recent afghan, pewter blue and off-white. Where would I put this one? She’d been making me afghans since the day I graduated high school and she deemed I was ready to, “marry and start my own household.” To date I had twelve afghans but no house to put them in and no desire to explain to Nana that I didn’t really enjoy afghans, they didn’t keep me warm and they were kind of ugly.
I leaned back from peering through the curtained side light next to the front door. Still no sign of Damon. He’d said seven. It was now six-fifty-nine and forty-three seconds. Yes, I counted the seconds. I planned on getting a kiss tonight.
“It’s not like that, Nana,” I said.
“Oh, and what is it like?” Nana sat in the padded rocker placed strategically in the front room to view any guests who came to the door and all the traffic on our not-so-busy street.
“I tried to kill myself,” I muttered, “in front of his friends mind you, and he’s still willing to take me to dinner. Maybe I should worry about him.”
“Speak up, girl, I hate it when you mumble.”
I glared at my grandmother. “You be nice to him. He’s a really great guy.”
Nana grumbled something incoherent and pulled the yarn tight. “I’ll decide if he’s a great guy or not.”
Ignoring her, I sniffed my elbow. Was my perfume too strong? Too floral? Maybe I should wash it off and restart. Straightening my flowing skirt, I hoped my stomach looked flat in this fitted shirt. I bit at my lip then cursed myself. Had I just taken off my meticulously applied lipstick?
A knock on the door surprised me. I spun around. Damon peeked through the sidelight and waved. How had he gotten to the door undetected? I’d only turned my back for a moment. Had he seen me sniffing myself?
I ripped open the front door and started to hyperventilate. I’d never seen him in anything but workout clothes.
He wore jeans and a button-down shirt. His hair looked darker with a bit of gel in it. His blue eyes twinkled at me. His perfect mouth split in a smile. What on earth was this man doing on my doorstep? I grinned, mentally patting myself on the back. I must’ve done a lot of things right in heaven.
“Cassie,” he said, covering my hand with his. “You look amazing.”
“I, uh,” I sputtered, was thinking the same thing about you . “I know it,” I managed.
His grin widened. “Are you ready to go?”
I nodded dumbly. From behind us a voice screeched, “Cassidy Christensen, you are not leaving this house until I meet this young man of yours.”
Oh, Nana. How could I have forgotten my guardian?
Damon’s surprise only showed in his eyes. “You look so great, I didn’t even notice anyone else was here,” he murmured in my ear.
I giggled like a teenager. His spicy cologne made me feel faint. I better not pass out on him again.
With a gentle sweep of his hand, Damon simultaneously turned me to face my grandmother and made me tingle all over.
“This is my grandma,” I said.
Damon gave her his grin and strode forward. Nana dropped her needles and yarn into her lap, not seeming to notice that several stitches unraveled. She offered her hand with the grace of a queen.
Damon bent low over the calloused fingers. “I’m Damon Cartwright,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You can call me, Nana,” she said, apparently awestruck by his gaze.
“Nana!” This degree of warmth had never happened on a first encounter. “You barely know him.”
“I like what I know,” she said.
Damon laughed. “Well, thank you, ma’am.”
“Now,” Nana withdrew her fingers and regained some sense of propriety. “Tell me where you’re taking my granddaughter.”
Damon glanced back at
The First Date
“So this boy almost killed you and now you’re letting him take you to dinner.” Nana knitted, her needles automatically counting out the pattern without any conscious thought. Years of practice.
I looked at my most recent afghan, pewter blue and off-white. Where would I put this one? She’d been making me afghans since the day I graduated high school and she deemed I was ready to, “marry and start my own household.” To date I had twelve afghans but no house to put them in and no desire to explain to Nana that I didn’t really enjoy afghans, they didn’t keep me warm and they were kind of ugly.
I leaned back from peering through the curtained side light next to the front door. Still no sign of Damon. He’d said seven. It was now six-fifty-nine and forty-three seconds. Yes, I counted the seconds. I planned on getting a kiss tonight.
“It’s not like that, Nana,” I said.
“Oh, and what is it like?” Nana sat in the padded rocker placed strategically in the front room to view any guests who came to the door and all the traffic on our not-so-busy street.
“I tried to kill myself,” I muttered, “in front of his friends mind you, and he’s still willing to take me to dinner. Maybe I should worry about him.”
“Speak up, girl, I hate it when you mumble.”
I glared at my grandmother. “You be nice to him. He’s a really great guy.”
Nana grumbled something incoherent and pulled the yarn tight. “I’ll decide if he’s a great guy or not.”
Ignoring her, I sniffed my elbow. Was my perfume too strong? Too floral? Maybe I should wash it off and restart. Straightening my flowing skirt, I hoped my stomach looked flat in this fitted shirt. I bit at my lip then cursed myself. Had I just taken off my meticulously applied lipstick?
A knock on the door surprised me. I spun around. Damon peeked through the sidelight and waved. How had he gotten to the door undetected? I’d only turned my back for a moment. Had he seen me sniffing myself?
I ripped open the front door and started to hyperventilate. I’d never seen him in anything but workout clothes.
He wore jeans and a button-down shirt. His hair looked darker with a bit of gel in it. His blue eyes twinkled at me. His perfect mouth split in a smile. What on earth was this man doing on my doorstep? I grinned, mentally patting myself on the back. I must’ve done a lot of things right in heaven.
“Cassie,” he said, covering my hand with his. “You look amazing.”
“I, uh,” I sputtered, was thinking the same thing about you . “I know it,” I managed.
His grin widened. “Are you ready to go?”
I nodded dumbly. From behind us a voice screeched, “Cassidy Christensen, you are not leaving this house until I meet this young man of yours.”
Oh, Nana. How could I have forgotten my guardian?
Damon’s surprise only showed in his eyes. “You look so great, I didn’t even notice anyone else was here,” he murmured in my ear.
I giggled like a teenager. His spicy cologne made me feel faint. I better not pass out on him again.
With a gentle sweep of his hand, Damon simultaneously turned me to face my grandmother and made me tingle all over.
“This is my grandma,” I said.
Damon gave her his grin and strode forward. Nana dropped her needles and yarn into her lap, not seeming to notice that several stitches unraveled. She offered her hand with the grace of a queen.
Damon bent low over the calloused fingers. “I’m Damon Cartwright,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You can call me, Nana,” she said, apparently awestruck by his gaze.
“Nana!” This degree of warmth had never happened on a first encounter. “You barely know him.”
“I like what I know,” she said.
Damon laughed. “Well, thank you, ma’am.”
“Now,” Nana withdrew her fingers and regained some sense of propriety. “Tell me where you’re taking my granddaughter.”
Damon glanced back at
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