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Chapter 9
Dean
Asfarasdatesgo, and granted, I don’t have a whole lot of data to back this up with, the non-dates I’ve had with Abbi have been far better than therealdates she’s set up for me.
Which is a bit of a problem.
Obviously, her job, her literal employment, hinges on finding dates for me that don’t include herself. And she’s tried. The problem seems to lie with me. As far as I can tell, anyway.
Since our practice-run evening together last week, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Abbi. I thought about her on my date with Tanya. About what Abbi might do or say. What Abbi would think of the venue and the lack of a gun war on the street when we left.
I can barely muster up disappointment that the date with Tanya didn’t work out, except that it did work out. It made me realize that I’m interested in Abbi. I don’t know how to put it into words or if it’s reciprocated. I mean, she seems to enjoy my company, but I’m a client. This is her job, and she has to be diplomatic and polite to clients. She probably has to feign interest all the time, placate people, and keep them happy in order to succeed.
Maybe there’s something to this whole process, after all. I’ve never been one to get fixated on things like this. I’ve never had to think about anyone but myself, but I’m finding myself wanting to do things a bit differently.
Back home after our lunch at Benson’s Bakery, I stare at my phone’s dark screen, running over what I’m going to say. I started to compose an email but couldn’t manage to get pastDear Abbi.
Ah, the irony. Dear Abbi, indeed. A few days ago, I was dreading meeting her, and now I’m sitting on my couch worrying about how to prevent hurting her feelings or putting her job in jeopardy. I swipe a hand over my face and lean my head back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so useless. Not letting myself give it too much thought, I find her number and put the phone to my ear. A second later I lower it to the table, plagued by doubt. Thank God the call didn’t connect.
Now, I’m a capable guy. I excel under pressure, am quick to adapt, and know how to keep my cool in the most heated of negotiations. The courtroom—no problem. Dealing with angry millionaires who have problems with their private jets—piece of cake. Three billion dollars’ worth of damage to your Dreamliner’s hull where another aircraft sideswiped it—you’ve come to the right place. When it comes to romance, though, I have no idea what I’m doing.
And I have no idea what I’m going to say to Abbi.
And after yesterday’s dirty solo session, I’ve thought about fucking her six ways from Sunday.
But it’s more than that. I caught myself daydreaming about kissing her and holding her hand. When the woman at the bakery was pawing me, I wished it was Abbi. Because the truth is I want to take her out. I want to see her beautiful face, her smile, and hear her laugh. And I want it more than once or twice.
A moment later, my phone alerts me to an email. That’ll be Abbi with the details of my next date. My brows knit as I open the email and read the details. Another woman’s name, one I know I won’t be interested in, fills the screen. Abbi’s being professional, and I feel terrible. I’m obligated to go on the date so she keeps her job, but there’s only one woman I really want to go out with.
I want to see Abbi again. I don’t really want to go on the next wretched date she has to organize for me. Then an idea pops into my head, and I tap out a text to Abbi.
Dean:Is there any chance you could meet me tomorrow evening? I have to visit a client, and we can talk about the date you’ve scheduled.
Abbi:What is it you want to talk about? I can email some information to you about venues.
I couldn’t care less about venues. I want to see Abbi again.
Dean:Not just venues, I think I’d like to go over some of the elements of compatibility that make her a possible match for me.
I hope that’s convincing.
Dean:I think this will help give me the best chance at success.
Abbi:Okay, you’re on. See you then.
Dean:See you then, Abbi.
This half-baked idea I’ve just sprung on myself is going to need some work if it’s going to come off. I really hope I don’t mess this up. Abbi’s a beautiful, witty, smart woman, and I want an actual chance with her.
I jump up off the couch— I’m going to have to call in a few favors to make this happen.
Time to get busy.
