Andy turned his wardrobe inside out, unsure what was too much for a simple evening with Summer. He didn't want to overdo it, but he didn't want to under-do it either. He couldn't remember the last time he'd dressed for someone who wasn't paying him.

  Eventually, he settled on a loose button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar not quite folded down, and dark jeans. No make-up, no styled hair. When he looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him felt... right. He texted Summer.

  andy ? on my way. get ready to be spoiled tonight ?

  When he arrived at her place, he knocked, wondering if he was too early. There'd been no reply to his message. Was she even home yet?

  Summer froze in her bedroom at the sound of the knock with a small yelp. She pressed both hands over her mouth, wide-eyed, heart hammering. She was still in her work clothes — a soft gray sweater and black slacks — perfectly decent, but not at all what she had imagined greeting Andy in. Not the enticing, spellbinding outfit she'd been hoping for, to disguise all her flaws.

  There were clothes strewn all over the bed from where she'd been frantically sorting through them. She had wanted to pick out something that would make Andy look at her the way he had Saturday — like she was something worth wanting, worth keeping. She wanted to look effortless but knew that wouldn't be the case. Her mind raced — what if he expected her to be perfect, to be someone else? What if he saw her as just an ordinary girl after all? She swallowed hard. The idea of losing this, of losing him even after such a short time, had her shaking.

  She whirled, scanning the room — oh no, the bedroom was a wreck. Not just the outfits abandoned on the bed, but thrown over the chair, her walking shoes halfway across the floor where she'd stripped them off. She hadn't even decided what shoes she was going to wear.

  The knock came again, a little softer this time, almost questioning. Panic bloomed under her ribs. Should she make him wait while she changed? Should she run around hiding the evidence of her ridiculous panic? Should she just pretend none of it mattered and just open the door?

  In the end, it was the thought of Andy standing there — waiting, wondering — that decided her. Summer ran her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it down, and hurried barefoot to the door.

  When she opened it, Andy stood there, casually gorgeous, with his hands in his pockets and an easy smile curling his mouth. He looked her up and down, and the smile deepened — not mocking, not disappointed. Fond. Delighted.

  "You," he said warmly, "are exactly what I was hoping to see."

  Summer blushed fiercely, stepping aside to let him in, mortified by the state of her bedroom and the ordinary way she looked. But Andy didn't seem to notice — or if he did, he didn't care. His whole focus was on her, and that slow, hungry gleam was already gathering in his eyes.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, his gaze still fastened to her like he couldn't quite believe she was real. Before Summer could say anything — before she could even really think — he wrapped his arms around her.

  Summer melted into him instantly. He was warm and solid and smelled like clean skin and something smoky and sweet. Andy buried his face in her hair for a moment, breathing her in, catching the faint scent of mint that lingered in her hair.

  "Hi, sweetheart," he murmured against her ear, voice low and soft.

  Then he leaned back just enough to find her mouth with his. The kiss he gave her wasn't urgent or heated, but something sweeter — lingering, coaxing. A hello kiss that promised all the heat would come later, but right now he was just grateful to be here, with her.

  Summer clutched at his shirt without thinking, heart racing, lips soft against his. The relief of him being here, real and wanting her, made her dizzy.

  When they finally pulled apart, Andy touched his forehead lightly to hers and smiled. "I missed you," he said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

  Summer's face burned. She ducked her head a little, hands fisting nervously in the front of Andy's shirt. "I — I mean, it's only been like, a day," she stammered. "And I'm still in my work clothes and the apartment's a mess and — "

  Andy gave a soft, almost amused sound and pressed his hand gently over her mouth, cutting off her flustered rush of words.

  Summer blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

  "Shh," Andy said, his smile crooked, almost tender. "You're perfect." His hand lingered for just a second, thumb brushing the edge of her cheek, before he let it fall away. "And for the record," he added, lowering his voice just a little, "I missed you after an hour." He caught the way her face fell as he spoke, the hesitation that darkened her hazel-green eyes.

  "What?" he asked gently.

  Summer looked down, twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers. "I... I was going to dress up for you," she mumbled. "Something nice. Something that might actually... " Her voice thinned, embarrassed. "But I don't have anything that could even begin to make someone like me look good enough. Not next to you."

  Andy's eyebrows drew together, his smile fading into something fierce and incredulous. He cradled her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "You already match me," he said roughly. "You're more than enough, Summer. You're beautiful. You're real. You're..." He shook his head like he couldn't even find the word big enough. "You have no idea what you look like to me."

  Summer turned her face away, swallowing hard. "Don't tease like that," she mumbled. "It's mean."

  Andy didn't argue. He just kissed her — soft, insistent kisses that caught her half-formed protests and scattered them into nothing. He kissed the tears from the corners of her eyes, the sadness from her mouth, like he could erase every cruel thing she'd ever thought about herself.

  When she sagged against him, breathless and stunned, he leaned his forehead to hers and said, "Then let me prove it. Let's go shopping."

  Summer blinked at him, confused. "Shopping?"

  Andy grinned, wicked and sweet all at once. "Yeah. I want to buy you things. Things you feel beautiful in." He ran his thumb along her jaw, tilting her face up again. "You should have clothes that make you feel like the way I see you."

  Summer hesitated, nervous and fidgety, but Andy wouldn't let her retreat. After a little more coaxing — soft kisses to her temple, hands stroking hers — she gave in with a shy laugh. "Okay, fine. But if this turns into some sort of 'makeover' thing, I'm blaming you," she said, half teasing, half serious. She slipped her shoes back on and tied her long hair back into a low, neat ponytail.

  Andy chuckled, the sound light and warm, like it was easy to make her smile, to make her feel seen. "I'd never do that to you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I just want you to see what I see."