“It's a surprise. Though I think you'll enjoy your dinner,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Humph,” I huff and sit back with a pouty expression. “After going to this much trouble, you’d better hope so, Buster.”

He reaches over and pats my thigh, then takes my hand as he leans over and whispers, “Trust me. You’ll love tonight.”

I sigh, lean into him, and rest my head on his shoulder. “I certainly hope so. I mean, look at me. Do you know how much trouble I have to go through for me to look like this?”