Free Third Date by Leah Holt Page B

that she was older, I had to be creative to keep her busy. So down time... well that barely existed.
    I found myself making games with her to clean the house, using paper towels and cleaning spray to hunt down dust as if it was a giant alien we needed to save the world from. Other days we would have folding races with the laundry, and at her tender age the questions seemed endless.
    I had to admit, my reaction time to come up with an answer had become record winning, even if the answer wasn't exactly one hundred percent correct.
    But to Fay, it never mattered. She had an answer and that kept her content.
    Searching the guide station, my phone pinged. Grabbing it off the table, I noticed Layne had sent me a text.
    Swiping to read the message, it said, “Hope the little person is asleep, put on your dancing shoes, I'll be there in ten.”
    What?
    Is he serious?
    Jumping off the couch, I ran to the blind and peeked at the driveway. But no one was there, at least not yet.
    Shit! Is he really coming now?
    My heart began to trapeze around my rib cage, slamming around like a trapped bird. All the nerves in my body ignited, electrified and charged with a nervous excitement. I stood like a stunned animal in my living room, starting to walk one way, then turning to go another.
    I had no idea what to do with myself, or if he was just bluffing; but I knew deep down, he wasn't joking, he was on his way to my house.
    He's coming here, now.
    Finally, finding my legs again, I made my way to the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, I tried to at least make it look like I put some effort into my appearance. Fluffing my hair with my fingers, I teased the bland strands, scrunching it up at the roots repeatedly.
    What a bad idea that was.
    The prickles riding my spine transformed into trembling fingers, fingers that explored more scalp than hair. Fingers that shook and rocketed around my head like I was trying to scratch away bugs.
    Oh God, I look like I stepped out of an eighties music video.
    I had on straight leg yoga pants, a tank-top, and an old sweater that the collar had been stretched out on. Thank you Fay for using it as a cocoon. And the teasing of my hair only knotted up the roots, and made the back go static from shuffling it around.
    What the hell am I doing?
    Leaning on the sink, I cursed myself in the mirror. I was being ridiculous, completely and utterly insane. Layne was technically working for me, which in a black and white sort of way, made me his boss.
    Yes, he was in charge of my 'program,' if I had to put a name to what I had signed up for. But I was ultimately in charge, I had the final decision.
    So why the hell did I care what I looked like if he came over?
    I was his client, he was my dating coach; there had to be rules against the way my body was melting to the idea of him being in my house.
    Knock Knock
    My head jerked over my shoulder, eyeing the door. Fuck me.
    Taking one last look in the mirror, I perched my lips to the side and reminded myself that he was here on business. Layne didn't care about what I looked like, he could probably care less if I answered the door in a brown sack with bare feet, and dirt smudges across my face.
    This is crazy, he's not the one you need to impress.
    Walking to the door, I unlocked the deadbolt and opened it. “Hi, this was wildly unexpected,” I said.
    Looking him over, Layne had traded his suit for a fitted green t-shirt, and loose jeans. His hair was still darting in all directions, but looked as if he had methodically placed each lock.
    I froze, his piercing eyes glinted with a hint of arousal as they licked up my body. “Are you ready for me?” He asked, bringing a bottle of champagne out from behind his back, and an unlabled disk to his face.
    Trying to force my legs to move, I stayed static. “What's all this?”
    “This is me apologizing for how the date went, Kinsley.” Lifting his shoulders, I watched each muscle as it danced beneath the thin fabric. “Are you going