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“That one worked.” I put deodorant on under one arm. “We had a magical night together.”
I didn’t think Sal was close enough to hear the conversation. But he calls out from the other side of the locker room, “Locke, you should write a book about your cheesy pickup lines with stories about whether they worked or not.”
I picture the look on Tess’s face right before I kissed her. The hope that swirled in her eyes. I want to be the man she needs, not a playboy tallying notches on my bedpost.
“Those days are behind me,” I say.
“Bullshit,” Colby scoffs.
“I’m serious.”
He gives me the shit-eating grin he always does when he impersonates me. “Hey girl, I’m not a weatherman, but you can expect to get eight inches tonight.”
“Eight inches?” Ford balks. “From you? Only if you’re bringing an eight-inch dildo.”
“Seriously, though,” Ben says. “I have to go, but I’m telling you right now that I will kick your fucking ass if you use a single mom.”
“I’m not using her.” I glare at him, aggravation flaring. “Just because I haven’t wanted to be serious with a woman in the past doesn’t mean I’m not serious now. And she doesn’t need you to stand up for her; she’s got it covered.”
Ford claps me on the back. “I think it’s great you found someone you like this much. I hope the date goes well.”
“Thanks.”
“Where are you taking her?” Beau asks.
“Dinner.”
“But where?”
I shrug. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I can get you a reservation to the new Japanese place downtown,” Colby says. “Mila loves it.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
Tess said she can’t afford to get dressed up, and I don’t want to take her somewhere that makes her feel uncomfortable. She’ll want to go somewhere casual, where we can eat burgers and fries. I want to do everything I can to show her a great evening—and hopefully get a second date.
I’m finished dressing and about to leave the locker room when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and see that it’s not just a text but a phone call.
And the name on the screen surprises me. Tess should be at work right now. Why is she calling me?
“Hey,” I say in answer.
“Hi.” Her voice is tight; something’s wrong.
“Everything okay?”
“It is most definitely not.”
Shit. Did a pipe explode in her house? Is one of the kids hurt? The possibilities of what could make her call me from work are racing through my mind.
“What’s wrong?” I sit down on a bench to talk to her.
She exhales heavily. “Well, I’m currently driving home from Zane’s school, where I just had a really fun conversation with him and his principal.”
“Oh shit, did he get in trouble?”
“Yeah, Dom. He got in trouble.”
