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CHAPTER TWO
GRANT
I stare, gape at, actually, the beautiful young woman in front of me, surprise wrestling with delight that she accepted my suggestion of taking her for dessert.
Coming over here was huge for me. Thankfully, my thirties are ushering in some hard-won wisdom that others seem to have grasped at a much earlier age. I’ve realized that if I don’t ask, the answer is always no. It might be no, anyway, but by not asking, I’ve taken away the slight chance that it might have been yes.
Brittany Collins, she of the bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair. A woman straight out of a fairy tale. Booking her grooming services for Tory over the phone, her warm, friendly voice instantly put me at ease. Seeing her bounding out of the brightly colored mobile grooming van, my attraction to her was instantaneous, and I wanted to ask her out.
At work, I’m cool and level-headed, a man in control.
Around her?
I get tongued tied, barely able to string two words together and revert to my flustered self, unable to flirt with her or even hold an intelligent conversation. After bombing that first meeting, I mentally berated myself for a missed opportunity.
When the same thing happened the second time, I made excuses.
Such as, maybe she has a strict no dating clients policy.
Not that I would know, since I didn’t have the courage to find out.
Or the very real fact that I’m at least ten years older than her and maybe she doesn’t date older men.
Then I boarded Tory, and they groomed him while there, losing me another opportunity to see her.
Imagine my surprise when while sitting in the restaurant waiting for my no-show date and there’s Brittany several tables away. My breath caught painfully in my chest and nerves gripped me. She looked lovely even in the dim lighting. Mood lighting, they call it. To me it makes everything look drab and depressing. Except her. She stood out like a beacon, drawing my gaze again and again.
A very large part of me was relieved when my date didn’t show. It gave me the opportunity to watch Brittany and to silently yearn for a woman I couldn’t have. I also observed her date’s ill treatment of her.
That I couldn’t tolerate quietly.
I stood, meaning to confront him, when Brittany’s grin told me my help wasn’t needed. I could have sat back down or left, since, after all this time, I doubted my date was coming. A bolt of revelation zinged through me. Seeing Brittany and experiencing the rush of feelings and longings she stirred in me showed that getting into a relationship with another woman was doing the other woman a huge disservice. I already found the one I truly wanted.
That’s when it hit me: it was now or never. I needed to stride over there, introduce myself and somehow convince her we were meant to be.
And by some miracle, my tongue worked, and she agreed.
My steps are light when I guide Brittany out to the parking lot. I inhale deeply, breathing in the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume.
A familiar light-haired man stands in the shade of the building, scowling down at his phone. It takes a moment for me to recognize him as Brittany’s date. His head snaps up, his expression turning even more thunderous, his eyes narrowed into little slits while they volley between us. You can practically hear the gears cranking slowly in his head.
“Bitch,” he hisses.
My mouth opens and I take a step toward him when a slim hand wraps around my bicep, halting me.
Brittany’s wide blue eyes stare up into my face, her lips a firm line. “He’s not worth it,” she says softly.
Looking at the other man, it’s easy to see she’s right.
I give her a grin and she leads me over to a sporty little green Miata.
“Not the mobile groomer?” I tease. Now that things are going so well, I find my nerves have mostly settled, allowing me to relax around Brittany.
She laughs and digs in her oversized lime green bag. “Sometimes I drive it around for the advertising, but this was a date.” Bright pink fills her cheeks and her shoulders tense. She peeks up at me, her lower lip clenched under her front teeth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about a date with another man when I’m on a date…” she trails off, her head lifting fully. “What is this? Not a date, right?”
Gulping, I rub my palms on my dress pants. “I would love to take you on a date. Maybe this could be a pre-date?”
Her smile returns and for a moment I’m spellbound, unable to think or look away. “A pre-date? I love that. Are you okay with me driving? I can swing you back around for your car after our pre-date.” She winks, and it’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around her and kiss her senseless. She’s adorable!
