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“I can come,” she suggests, surprising me.
“You want to come while I pick out a dress to marry someone else?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
But it is.
“I mean, I’m not opposed if it means spending more time with you.”
“I’m not a good catch. I want you to know that before we go any further.”
“Is anyone?” She raises a brow, and I find myself smiling at her answer.
“I’m sure many people are. A beautiful woman like yourself could find a normal woman, not someone who is destined to marry a man she doesn’t like, let alone love.”
“I want to give it a try, don’t you?” She shrugs. “As I said, I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I like you. I like your attitude, the way you hold yourself, it’s comforting and welcoming.”
If only she knew about my demons.
The dinner goes well. She makes me laugh. I make her laugh. We bond over everything pink. She tells me about her French Bulldog named Beyoncé, which also makes me laugh. Who names their dog after a singer? I guess she does.
She tells me about her first love—a woman—who was also her best friend.
I tell her I’ve never been in love.
It’s not a lie.
She asks to kiss me at the end of the night as we walk to our cars, so I reach out and grab her by the hips and pull her to me.
She giggles.
It’s perfect.
Lips as soft as velvet touch mine, and it’s in that moment that I wonder if what I’m doing is right. So why, when I kiss her, does my brain go straight to a brooding, demanding, tattooed asshole?
I hate him.
“I want to invite you back to mine,” she whispers against my lips. “But I have work tomorrow. And I know if I do, we’ll be awake all night.” She giggles again.
How can I attract someone so… nice?
But then, there is Joey.
“I have to pack anyway,” I tell her.
She smiles and leans in and kisses my lips one more time, lingering as she does. “Tonight was quite perfect.” Her hands leave me and drop to her sides.
“It was. Not sure why I always say no if it’s meant to be like this.”
We stop at a car that’s red, sporty, and looks expensive.
“What do you do for work? Can’t believe I haven’t asked you that.” I shake my head, pushing my hair over my shoulder.
“I’m a lawyer,” she replies, smiling.
Wow! Okay. I did not expect that.
“I wanted to ask you something…” She opens her car door and places her purse on the seat. “Those men that were at your shop, the ones who walked in on us. Who are they?”
