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All the amusement on Terry’s face vanished. He looked as though he was thinking hard about what he was about to say, and something told me it wasn’t going to be something I wanted to hear. “Honey, he’s a prostitute. He sleeps with women for money. I don’t know about you, but he doesn’t seem like the type of person one should fall in love with. You get what I’m saying?”
I did. And he was right. I didn’t respond, so he added a hopeful, “Any chance he’s getting out of the biz?”
I shook my head, my heart in my throat. “No. He said he’s not looking for more.” Suddenly, I threw myself back on the sofa and groaned, “Jesus, Terry! What am I doing?” I was officially freaking out. “He made it clear, you know? We were just sleeping together. And then…” I felt sick, “then I fell in love with him.” I stared down at my hands and uttered a quiet, “I fucked up.”
For the first time since I’d met Terry, he went silent on me. I faced him, and his eyes were full of sympathy. I shook off the bad feeling and forced a smile. “It’s okay though. I have a plan.”
Then he smiled softly. “And what’s the plan, pumpkin?”
I shrugged. “I’ll start dating and just hope I get over him.”
He clapped. “Oh, I can help there! The woman who does my hair, Sondra, was just telling me her brother was looking for a nice girl.” Terry shot me a look. “You’re a nice girl!” He stood, retrieving his phone. “I’m calling Sondra.”
Something was building in the pit of my stomach. I knew exactly what it was.
Guilt.
Because even though Quinn and I were little more than friends slash fuck buddies, part of me still felt as though I was betraying him.
I shot to my feet. “No, wait! I don’t even know what this guy looks like!”
Terry paused, his face tilted in thought. “Okay, I’ll ask her to send a photo of him.”
Was I really going on a blind date with Terry’s hairdresser’s brother? Hell. Talk about hitting the bottom of the barrel. I sighed. “A recent photo, Terry.”
He lifted his hand in acknowledgement and added, “Recent photo. Got it.”
Within minutes, Sondra had responded with a photo of her brother, Christopher. Terry smirked and handed me the phone. I stared in shock, catching flies.
He was seriously hot. It looked as though he was mixed race. He had flawless skin the color of coffee, heavy on the milk. His eyes crinkled in the corners. His lips were full in a way that had my belly twisting. They were luscious. His soft brown eyes, outlined by long black lashes, made me jealous of him. His dark hair was buzzed close to his head, had a nice five-o’clock shadow, and strong shoulders. The photo had been taken at chest height, so I couldn’t exactly see how tall he was, but that wasn’t a big deal for me. In the photograph, he was mid-laugh, and his smile was contagious. Smiling back at the man in the photo, I turned to Terry. “Set it up.”
Terry raised his arms, fists high. “Yes!”
He texted as if his life depended on it, and when Sondra responded, he rushed over, pulling my hair out of my ponytail. “She wants a picture to show her brother.”
I supposed it was only fair. I smiled softly as Terry took the photo then sent it. His phone chimed and he smiled. “She wants your number to pass on.” He winked. “Seems he’s interested.”
I prattled off my number and Terry sent it. My gut churned as my thoughts wandered to Quinn. This was necessary. I needed to do this. For myself. For the sake of my heart.
My phone’s jingle went off in my bag and Terry rushed to grab it. “I’ll bet that’s him!” He handed it to me—well, threw it at me. “Read it!”
I chuckled at how excited he was.
The message was from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hi, Mia. My name is Christopher, but please call me Kit. My sister Sondra and your friend Terry seem to think we should meet. I’d love to take you out for dinner, if you’ll let me.
Terry hooted with laughter. “Oh my, he is sharp.” He nudged me hard. “What are you waiting for? Respond!”
I rubbed at my arm then answered.
Me: Hi, Kit. I’d love to have dinner with you sometime :) Looking forward to meeting you. Mia x
The response was immediate.
Kit: I don’t want to sound too eager, but is tonight good for you?
I smiled down at my phone. He was well-mannered. He actually sounded very nice.
Me: Tonight is actually good. Can I meet you somewhere?”
Kit: There’s this place I like downtown that does Italian better than they serve in Italy. How does 9 sound? If it won’t make you uncomfortable, I’d like to pick you up and take you home myself. My mother would be so disappointed in me if I didn’t.
With every further text, I was liking this man more and more. It seemed like his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, and that was more than okay with me.
Me: Okay. I’ll send you my address, and 9 is great. Looking forward to meeting you, Kit.
Kit: As am I, Mia. See you then.
I blinked down at my phone in confusion, then up at the wall. “That was it? That’s all it took to get a date?”
Terry burst into laughter, hugging me to his side. “Oh, sweetie, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you’d know why it was that easy. Now…what are you going to wear?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. His smile immediately made me weary. I knew I was in trouble.
As Terry went to town dressing me up like a doll, I received a message.
Quinn: What are you doing tonight? Want to have another sleepover? I promise not to touch your alarm this time. Scout’s honor.
I stared at the text and my chest squeezed. With a heavy heart, I sat my phone down without responding.
Kit was everything a first date should be. He was sweet and attentive, and his smile was the stuff of daydreams. It turns out he was in advertising, working as a consultant for high-end companies on the strip.
When he arrived at my door, I answered and looked up…and up…and up, still, to his smiling face. He greeted me with a hug then handed me a single yellow rose, but I still couldn’t get past his height. He was enormous! When I asked him if he was related to Andre the Giant, he laughed good-naturedly, explaining that all the men in his family were over six-feet tall, whereas the women tended to be on the short side.
He walked me to the car with a hand to my back, helping me in. As we drove to the restaurant, conversation came surprisingly easy. We spoke about anything and everything. He told me he was a pasta addict. I told him about the time I once fought a four-year-old at a birthday party for the last cake-pop.
Don’t worry. I won.
I noticed the area we were driving through and something inside of me started tightening. The car came to a stop and I blanched, noticing the restaurant we were parked at was only two blocks away from Quinn’s apartment building. Unease swept over me. The chances of seeing Quinn were slim-to-none. I needed to stop worrying and concentrate on my date.
Kit took my hand in his as we walked into Mama Cavella’s for what Kit promised to be the best Italian food I’d ever eaten. I teased and told him he’d pay if it wasn’t. He just grinned and wiggled his brows. I flushed, turning to hide my smile.
Why was this date going so well? Dammit.
I wouldn’t admit it, but I hoped it would be terrible and I would just resign myself to the fact I was not meant to date, leaving me in my bubble of happiness with Quinn, where we never spoke about his work and we just continued being ourselves, ha
ving a great friendship with a side of amazing sex.
We placed our orders with the waitress. I ordered the penne carbonara. Kit ordered the lamb and spinach lasagna with a salad. My brain tingled when he asked for no onion on the salad. Was that a hint? Was Kit going to kiss me at the end of the night? Maybe he just didn’t like onion in his salad. I wasn’t sure.
When our meals arrived, Kit watched me take the first bite of my meal with a wide smile. As soon as the pasta hit my tongue, I groaned in bliss. “God, this is good.”
“Not good,”—Kit winked—“the best. They make all the pasta in house.”
We ate, chatting through our meals, telling each other about college and work. It was nice. I haven’t felt comfortable with a single heterosexual male since…well…Quinn, but although Kit was nice, I didn’t feel that something extra. The spark was missing, and I knew where I could find it. My spark was lost to me, hidden in Quinn’s smile.
After our meal, I declined dessert and Kit paid the bill, even though I insisted on paying my share. He wouldn’t have it. He was a gentleman to the core. I was sure he’d find the girl he deserved, but as we approached the car, I quickly realized that girl wouldn’t be me.
We drove back to my apartment in comfortable silence, and when Kit took my hand, I didn’t object. We entered the lobby and walked down the hall to my apartment. When my eyes locked on the person standing outside of my apartment door, his hand raised to knock, my stomach sank.
Quinn turned just in time to see Kit and I approach hand-in-hand. A flurry of emotions passed over his face—confusion, realization, disbelief, and then anger. The way he looked at me scared me. I’d never seen Quinn like that before. It was chilling.
He walked down the hall to meet us, and I quickly dropped Kit’s hand. Quinn talked as he joined us, his words said slowly, carefully. “So, this is where you were tonight? On a date?” He shook his head and cursed. “Seriously, Mia?”
