AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You look beautiful,” he compliments, and I have to take a huge gulp of air to keep myself from hyperventilating.
“T-thank you,” I stutter out.
Gah. Why am I so nervous?
Immediately, I pick up my glass of water and take a sip before pondering my emotional state.
Is it because it’s been nearly a year since I’ve been on a date? Because Garrett is so dang handsome? Or is it because I feel like I’m perpetrating some kind of espionage by going on a date with him behind my dad’s back?
“It’s probably all three,” Garrett says with a smile, and I nearly choke on my glass of water.
What the…? Instantly, my eyes go wide. “Did I…did I say all that stuff out loud?”
Garrett chuckles. “I think so. I don’t think I have the ability to read minds.”
“Oh, holy shit.” I face-palm myself. Legit, hand to my face, I’m the real-life version of the emoji right now.
“Lauren, it’s fine,” he says and reaches out to gently shift my hand away from my face. “It’s kind of like an icebreaker, you know?”
“More like an icy suicide.”
Garrett laughs again, and I find myself staring at the vibrating column of his throat. It’s long and tanned and seriously sexy.
I never knew a throat could be so dang sexy.
“Hey, I’m nervous too,” he adds. “If that makes you feel any better. I don’t know how much you know about me, but I just got divorced about a year ago after…well, a pretty long marriage. I haven’t dated in a quite a while.”
“And yet, you’re running circles around me.”
He smiles. “I’m freaking out on the inside.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure.”
“I am!”
“Well, let some of it spill out, would you?” I retort. “Level the playing field a little.”
“Okay.” He nods, and a smirk consumes his lips as he taps one long index finger to his chin. “Let’s see… I, well, I changed my outfit three times before settling on this.”
“Really?” That’s at least a little embarrassing. I’d never expect a guy like him to do anything but fall into perfectly arranged clothes. And strangely, it does make me feel a bit better about myself.
He nods.
Hungry for more, I prod, “What else?”
His smile widens. “My daughter—she’s twelve—gave me all sorts of hell about my choice, even after all the effort.”
“Really?” I ask, surveying the shirt’s tight hold on his muscles. “I think you look fantastic.”
His eyebrows pop into an involuntary waggle, and I blush.
“Apparently, I have diarrhea of the mouth tonight.”
He smirks. “Better than actual diarrhea.”
“Oh my God.” I fight the urge to laugh and place my hand over my mouth.
“Too much?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Stop being funny.” I glare at him, but also, I’m smiling. “I’m trying to be aloof here.”
“Why are you trying to be aloof on a first date?” he questions, eyebrows raised in curiosity and blue eyes shining. “Is that a thing? Have I been out of the game for too long?”
“It’s a me thing. Not a ‘game’ thing.”
“Why is it a you thing?”
“Because we’re in a fancy French restaurant, and I cackle like a hyena when I laugh. Classy ladies are reserved, respectful of other patrons. Not hyenas.”
He glances around the room in fake suspicion and leans closer to me, dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “So, where would we need to be to make you feel like you don’t need to be aloof?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “Petco?”
“Let’s go, then.”
“What?” I blurt out. “Go where? To Petco?”
He nods and smiles, and my heart does a tiny little flutter in my chest.
Holy crap. I’m in big trouble.
“We haven’t even ordered yet,” I state. “Or eaten. And we’re just going to leave and go to Petco?”
He shrugs one casual shoulder. “Why not?”
“I don’t know…it just seems…”
“There aren’t any rules. Nothing says we have to stay where we start. We can go to Petco. Get some burgers or something somewhere.”
“We’re not going to Petco. That’s crazy,” I retort with wide eyes. “I just said Petco to be random. I don’t actually have a pet.”
“Why is it crazy? Sounds fun to me.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, my skin absolutely buzzing with anxiousness. I don’t even know how to handle such a spur-of-the-moment change in plans. My life is very routine. Planned. Succinct.
Other than the moments I have to make fast-paced medical decisions regarding my patients’ lives, I don’t do spontaneous or on the fly. I consider my choices painfully until all the joy is robbed out of them.
Isn’t that the way all adults are supposed to handle things?
Before I can get a bead on myself and the situation, Garrett is standing, dropping some money on the table for the time we occupied it, and holding out a hand to me.
I take it—I mean, I’m not a lunatic—and rise to my feet. When someone who looks like him holds out his hand for you and smiles, you take it. Period.
