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At least he did the proper thing and offered to buy my caramel macchiato. I let him, of course. After all, he asked me out. But once we sat down at our table by the window that overlooks Strickland University’s pristine campus, girls had come over to our table about six times, and they are not even the worst ones.
The men who stopped by to have their fanboy moment with Tyler and ask for his autograph were out of control. Grown men turn into thirteen year old boys around him. That was interesting. What pissed me off was his response to the girls who threw themselves at him, one after another without any consideration I am here with him. I guess they dismissed me because of the hideous outfit Sydney made me wear as part of our experiment.
Tyler is playing right into my research. I knew he would. Men are so predictable. The worse part about this ordeal is that he acted as though I was some homeless person he found on the street and felt sorry enough to buy me a coffee.
Now, I’m stuck sitting across from Douche Impossible, hoping Bimbo Barbie and friends will hit the road so I can bow out of this coffee date from hell and get back to work on my interviews. Despite this waste of an hour, the day was a success. I scored interviews with every player I had on my list. Between Coach, Alex, and Tyler they made sure of it.
One of the girls hovering over Tyler shakes her tits in his face and giggles, brushing her fingers along his jersey. “Oh, Tyler, you’re so funny,” she coos, sounding like a baby.
How can men find that appealing?
“Do you mind?” I spit out. “Don’t you have somewhere else you could be other than interrupting our date?”
Tyler snaps his head in my direction faster than I can say skank, his eyes widened in shock, but I don’t miss the cocky smirk forming, the corner of his mouth turned up, making him look even hotter. He oozes sex appeal, but his personality…The man drives me insane and not in a good way—or at least for the most part.
“You’re on a date with her?” Blondie points her finger at me and scrunches her nose in disapproval as if I am the scum she just scraped from under her shoe.
I squirm in my chair, my eyes narrowed at her, giving Tyler a look so hard it could cut through steel. Reading my body language, he sits up straight and shakes the girls away from him, scooting his chair further into the table and locking eyes with me.
“Yes, I’m on a date with her.” He holds my gaze for a few seconds before glancing up at the three girls. “You ladies should go now before you get me in trouble.”
“Oh, you’re already in trouble,” I mutter under my breath.
They walk away in a huff, their trail of fragrance leaving the intoxicating stench of the makeup department at Macy’s in my nostrils. Tak
ing a sip from my mug, I glance over at Tyler from beneath my brows.
He watches me, his eyes never leaving mine as we enter into a silent stare down. Underneath the boyish good looks and perfect smile, there must be an actual person. I know nothing about his personal life other than he is from New Jersey and lives in a house not much different from what I grew up in, a house that has since gone into bank auction and was sold to the highest bidder.
“So,” he says, dwarfing the chair with his muscular body, attracting more attention as he crosses his arms over his chest. I can imagine what’s under that jersey, and I hate that my mind went to that place with Tyler. He’s my favorite player in the NHL, I have a tiny crush on him, but that persona I had built up in my head has since deflated.
“So,” I add, irritated, “thanks for the coffee, but I have to get going. You wasted enough of my time for the day.”
He holds out his hand when I reach for my purse draped over the back of my chair. “Please. Stay for a little bit longer. I’m sorry about all the fans. This is part of the job. I’m sure you understand that.”
“I get it. I do.” I try my best to keep my facial expressions relaxed even though I am beyond pissed. “But I have sat here for far too long while you fondled women and had men drool over you. Like I said earlier, I have work to do. I’m a reporter, remember? I have news to report. Sitting in a coffee shop with you is not news worthy.”
“Please,” he begs, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. Damn him if those baby blues don’t make my insides melt just enough to give him another chance. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
“Why not? I’m sure you have other things you could be doing besides sitting in a coffee shop on a college campus with me. You have more than your fair share of women who are willing to hang out with you.”
He shakes his head, frowning. “Nope. I have my dog Roxie to go home to, and that’s about it, but tonight is her play date with the neighbors’ dogs.”
I chuckle, thinking he must be joking and his frown turns into a mixture of anger and irritation. “Don’t laugh. Roxie a baby, and she still needs her mom and siblings.”
His tone is so defensive, and my God, if those words don’t make me want to melt on the floor.
“I have to say I was not expecting you to be the baby daddy of a puppy. How do you even have the time with your schedule?”
“You, of all people, should know that people are not always what they seem.”
Tyler knows how to hit all of my buttons at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He uncrosses his arms from his chest and places his hands flat on the table, his body and smoldering good looks suffocating me as he closes the distance between us. “You’re wearing an outfit that looks like you dug it out of a bin at Salvation Army, yet your shoes cost about a thousand dollars. Something doesn’t add up with you.”
“How would you know a thing about the price of my shoes?”
“I hooked up with a model who did some ads for Christian Louboutin, and she wore shoes just like those all the time. The red soles are kind of memorable since you don’t see them that often. I’m not as clueless as you think.”
