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“Kirby is in Boston. You’re free to do what you want tonight.” He gazes over my shoulder before he looks me dead in the face again. “It wouldn’t hurt you to have some fun in the form of female companionship.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m not hooking up with anyone I meet at the bar.”
“Who said anything about meeting someone at the bar?” He chuckles. “Get on Nitespark, and I guarantee you’ll find someone interested in one thing and one thing only.”
“Shut up,” I say through a lingering laugh. “If I want that, I don’t need your goddamn app to make it happen.”
“So, you did meet someone at the wedding?”
“No,” I repeat my initial answer to that question. “My offer to buy you a beer expires in fifteen minutes, so move your ass.”
“You’re buying me a glass of top-shelf scotch.” He steps to the right, allowing a couple holding hands to pass him. “We both know there’s no time limit on the offer. You’ve got all night.”
He’s right. I do.
There’s no way I’m falling asleep any time soon. I can’t shake Carrie’s words from my mind. Hell, I don’t want to.
What I do want is a chance to show her how much I want her. I’ll get it. I have no doubt about that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carrie
“You didn’t respond to any of the text messages I sent you yesterday.” Telford picks a poppy seed off the bagel in front of him. “I sent maybe five of them.”
It was closer to twenty-five, but he’s obviously not counting, so I won’t either.
I slide my plain bagel toward him. “I’ll take that one. You can have mine.”
“It’s not your fault they messed up our order,” he says while plucking another poppy seed from his breakfast treat. “Besides, the last time you ate one with poppy seeds, your smile was full of them all day.”
I scrub a finger over my teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He laughs as if the notion of warning me that I have food in my teeth is hilarious.
I finally take a bite of my bagel before washing it down with a sip of coffee. “Just eat it, Tel. You can brush your teeth right after.”
He rubs his ear. “That’s true. I do keep an extra toothbrush in my bag.”
He glances to where he hung his weathered brown leather messenger bag on a coatrack by the door to our lab. It’s filled with everything he could ever need during the workday, including the toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, an extra set of eyeglasses, sunscreen, and more than a dozen other things.
I take another bite of my bagel because I’m starving.
Food wasn’t my friend yesterday. That had nothing to do with the champagne I had at my sister’s wedding on Saturday night.
My stomach was bunched in knots because of what I blurted out to Rook.
I never intended to tell anyone that I’m a virgin.
My plan has always been to change that status on my thirtieth birthday, which is just over nine months from now.
The hookup app I downloaded is the first step on that journey.
I can spend six months getting a feel for how it works before I narrow down the suitable candidates and then meet up with one for a bang on my birthday.
It’s just another milestone in my carefully crafted life plan.
“What happened after I left the wedding?” he asks as he continues plucking poppy seeds. “How long did you stay?”
