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Hmm. I don’t know. Didn’t you say you were “too old” for me?I message back.
It takes him two whole minutes before he replies.I thought you might enjoy watching some old guys get their asses kicked.
The very bottom of my belly warms. I’d like to know what else Damon thinks I’d enjoy.
I’m tapping my thumbs, still trying to decide if joining him is a good idea, when Thad’s contact image fills the screen.
I screech, heart thumping fiercely as I stare at the photo I saved from last summer. We were on the dock of Thad’s parents’ lake house, and I thought he looked handsome with the pink and orange sunset reflecting off his cheeks.
“Come on,” I whisper, wondering what’s making me hesitate. “Answer it.”
His number scrolls along the bottom one more time before I forward the call to voicemail.
There’s no way I’m talking to him right now, not after that conversation with my mother, and certainly not after what I’ve been imagining of Damon.
I take a calming breath and open OneDate one last time.
I’m not going to let a little passing crush stop me from enjoying my time in paradise. I even convince myself that I’ll go just to get a little exercise and maybe hang out with Damon’s fiery friend Brandi.
This has nothing to do with him—or the fact that I might see him shirtless—and more to do with how long it’s been since I’ve had a good bout of dirty fun. I miss the days before my debutante when I could ride my horse, Tux, and hike whenever I felt like it.
I miss sweating and getting messy.
Back home, I’ve been primped, pressed, and neatly molded into a delicate creature whose ‘boyfriend’ only put up with the occasional Braves game so he could sit in the box and chat with the stiffs who mooch off his father.
As long as I get to partake in the ass kicking, I’m down,I finally type back.
Damon answers almost immediately.
Deal.
