Chase, still standing in the doorway, was freshly showered post-training and wore a fitted black tee and newer jeans. I, on the other hand, was barefoot in black yoga pants and a random pink tank top, with wild, wavy hair. He’d kept my birthday present a secret, but regardless of what it was, my current hair and outfit situation probably wouldn’t cut it.

I flashed him an apologetic look and stood. “Can you give me a few minutes to change? I’m a mess.”

“You look cute.” He stepped in front of me and put his hands on my waist, angling in for a brief kiss. “But I’ve gotta grab something to eat anyway.”

No surprise there. The man was always eating. Our grocery bill was astronomical.

“Oka—”

Instead of releasing me, he ducked his head, captured my lips, and kissed me again, deeper. I dug my fingertips into his shoulders, my breath turning shallow. Just as I was starting to lose myself in the kiss, he pulled back, giving me a knowing look. If we kept going, we wouldn’t be leaving the house anytime soon, if at all.

“Now,” he said, steering me out of the office and into the hallway. “Go get ready. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” He smacked me on the butt before turning and strolling away.

I paused for a moment, my burned-out brain trying to catch up from the kiss and a full day of studying. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that I remembered my question.

“Can you give me a hint about how to dress?” I called.

His voice echoed from in the kitchen. “Wear pants.”

Pants. Okay. Vague, but better than nothing.

I headed into the all-white master bathroom and quickly washed my face before applying a little makeup and a spray of my new perfume. Then I stood in the middle of our oversized walk-in closet, staring at the rows of clothes aimlessly. After changing three times, I finally settled on broken-in jeans, a white tank top, and a lightweight tan knit sweater—it was fall, and I had turned into such a wimp about cool weather that I could pass as a native Californian.

Inside his black SUV, the air conditioning blasted full force—as always—and I quickly turned the fan down and the passenger-side temperature up so I didn’t freeze to death en route to our destination. Chase shifted into reverse and placed a hand on the back of my seat, shoulder-checking before he backed out of the driveway.

“How was camp?” I asked, sliding on my tortoiseshell sunglasses. They were another early birthday present from him. It was like birthday week in our house.

Chase shrugged. “It was good. Always a little rough to get back into the swing of things.”

“A little rough?” Now he was the one telling white lies about his day. He was tired, and he looked it.