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She tucked her card into the back pocket of her jeans, grabbed her things, then smirked. “Your date is tonight. I’ll text you the details.”
What?
“Wait!”
She darted outside, helped by a customer who held the door for her.
I swear I almost growled at her.
I was so not on board with this.
***
ME: I’m not happy about this.
KINSLEY: I tried to get her to stop.
ME: Not hard enough.
I threw my phone on my bed and screamed into my pillow. I had two days to get this month’s accounting to my accountant, and instead of doing it like a responsible business owner, I had to go to on this stupid date with someone I could guarantee I wouldn’t even like.
I no longer cared about the good place my friends were coming from.
They needed to move out of it.
I had no idea what to wear. I didn’t care about what I was wearing. I didn’t want to be there, and I didn’t intend to stay long.
I wasn’t going to play this game anymore. The longer I stayed at a date, the more my friends thought it was acceptable to continue setting me up.
No, I was going to walk in, sit down, and apologize to the poor guy who was wasting his time, then cut the date short.
I pulled some jeans on and tugged them right up. I didn’t care what the internet said—you could pull my skinny jeans from my cold, dead hands. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was giving them up.
I tugged on a flowy shirt, added a blazer, and slipped my feet into some low-heeled boots for good measure. At the very least, I could look nice, and with any luck, I could swing by one of the restaurants that did takeout, so I didn’t have to cook tonight.
After running a brush through my hair, I grabbed my keys, phone, and purse, and headed out. I drove across town to the Italian restaurant where my blind date was waiting for me and, after parking up, steeled myself for what was to come.
I was not having fun and I wasn’t even inside yet.
I took a deep breath and walked inside. It smelled amazing—rich scents of marinara, pizza, and pasta—and my stomach rumbled, making me wish I wasn’t so against this date.
I was hungry, damn it.
Ugh.
“Hi. Holley set me up on a blind date,” I said to Harvey, the host.
He smirked. “Another one?”
“Kill me,” I muttered in response.
With a gentle laugh, Harvey motioned for me to follow him. “She did good this time. He’s cute.”
“You take my place, then. You have my blessing.”
“Can’t. I don’t think he bats for my team.” He sighed, leading me to the back of the restaurant. “It’s always the way.”
Amen to that.
“Here we are. I’ll send someone over to take your drinks order.”
I stepped around him to my table. “Oh, that’s fine, don’t—” I swallowed when my gaze landed on the guy who was waiting for me.
Oh no.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Maverick Donovan looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “Piper. What a surprise.”
“Harvey?” I said, my voice scratchy. “I’m going to need that drink after all.”
CHAPTER THREE – PIPER
RULE THREE: IT’S NOT A BLIND DATE IF YOU’VE SEEN THE OTHER PERSON NAKED.
I slid into the empty chair opposite Maverick and flattened my hands on the table. “What are you doing here?”
His blue eyes twinkled with silent laughter. “I could ask you the same question.”
My mouth was bone dry. Where was the server to take my drink order? “My friend set me up. Which you know, because you’re here.”
“Holley.” He nodded. “I met with her yesterday to talk about doing a signing when my next book launches. My publisher was going to do it, but since I live nearby, I said I’d stop in.”
Right.
Of course.
The things I knew about Maverick Donovan could be counted on two fingers. One was that he was a superstar romance author who wooed women all over the world with his words, and the other was that he was probably the best sex I’d ever had in my life.
And I had never expected to see him again.
Ever.
“I’m going to kill her,” I breathed, burying my face in my hands. “I told her I didn’t want to have this stupid freaking date.”
He chuckled.
“I’m glad my annoyance is amusing to you.”
“What do you want me to say, Blondie? I’m not mad you’re the person sitting in front of me, despite your insistence that I’d never see you again.”
And this was why I never saw my one-night stands again.
It was awkward when you did see them.
“Okay, fine—” I paused when the server came by. I ordered a double gin and tonic because screw it, I would get a cab home. My car would be safe here, and I needed a strong freaking drink to get through this conversation.
