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Why can’t anyone just be normal in person? Muffy felt like they suckered a person in on the internet and sent someone in their place who looked and sounded nothing like them. Apparently, manners were something that people didn’t bother with anymore. Basic common sense was another attribute that belonged to a forgotten era.
Muffy picked at the napkin that held the utensil cluster together. Maybe this wasn’t going to be any better. She’d done the dinner thing again but hoped she at least made it to the part where the food came so if she was going to dine and dash, she could at least do the dining part of the routine too.
She purposely didn’t check her phone. She’d arrived early because she didn’t want Alex to be sitting there waiting, wondering if she was going to show up. She wanted to be the one to see him walk in, to see what she’d really gotten herself into.
When she glanced up to check the front area of the restaurant, for the hundredth millionth time, the sloshing in her stomach turned into a flight of angry birds, all battling each other for a stale bread crust some well-meaning old lady threw out in the park.
Alex.
He looked exactly liked his photos. Tall and stacked, broad shoulders, athletic form, tousled dark hair and square jaw that had a permanent shadow of a beard. He had the kind of face that belonged on an outdoorsman’s poster. The kind where the guy wears plaid and heaves a big ax over his shoulder and winks at the camera while his curly mustache proudly shouts that he’s a real man’s man.
Okay, so Alex didn’t have a mustache. He didn’t have any facial hair minus the shadow thing going on, but he just had that rugged look. He was a few inches over six feet. He probably played football in high school. He filled out that plaid shirt he did have on and the faded jeans that hung low on his hips more than well.
He was the kind of guy who probably had a big d-
Okay. So not going there.
Muffy cut off her train of thoughts and gave herself a stern lecture about the buzz that was going on in her nipple region and the fire spreading up her thighs. She pinched her legs together so that it couldn’t reach the intended target. Seriously? I’m just as bad as all those perverts I went on dates with. Because, yeah, she could kind of imagine greasing Alex up and climbing him like a tree.
Alex spotted her near the front and flashed her one of those perfect smiles. Perfect because his lips- oh god, his lips- were perfectly shaped and his teeth were straight and white and immaculate. It was the kind of smile that braces or extremely good genetics bought.
Muffy folded her hands in her lap. She gripped them tightly, hoping like hell that she was Alex’s type and that he didn’t find her mousy and boring like the rest of the world. My name is Sarah. Sarah, Sarah, say Sarah. Apparently, all her good sense had packed its bags and left her because she wasn’t even supposed to be into this. She was supposed to still be heartbroken over Steve. They’d dated for a year, after all. She was not supposed to be salivating on the inside at the sexy lumberjack that folded his gorgeous male body into the booth across from her.
“I’m Alex.” He reached across the table with that huge palm. A very nice-looking palm. A very, very nice hand.
The kind of hand that could do sweet sinful things to a person. Stop! Stop it right now! That heat was spreading to all the wrong spots. A jolt of straight lust hit her right in the- well- muff region.
“M-Muffy,” she heard herself respond. She extended her hand and it was immediately engulfed in Alex’s palm. It was warm. Oh god, it was deliciously warm. Damn it! Why did I say that?
“Muffy?” Alex arched one dark brow. He had the kind of brows that were a little messy and thick but were somehow still gorgeously masculine.
“Yeah. Muffy.” She was about to launch into a diatribe about why her name was so terrible and crippling and awkward when Alex smiled again and that smile stopped her heart, and her brain, in its tracks.
“I like that. Muffy. You don’t hear that that often.”
“Uh- well- most people have the sense not to give their kids the kind of name that sounds like something worse than porn.”
Alex leveled a direct gaze at her. “Are you worse than porn?”
“N-no,” she stammered while her heart raced painfully in her chest. “I- I’m an accountant.”
“An accountant, hmm.”
“I know it’s boring. Almost everything about me is boring. After five minutes, you’ll probably want to escape the date, make up some excuse about the place food poisoning you even though the food hasn’t come yet, dash off to the bathroom, and jump out of the window.”
