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Chapter 3
“I’m from Michigan. I moved here a year ago for work, which is basically all I do. It’s great to meet someone I don’t work with,” my date is telling me.
Stacie, an old high school friend who comes to my summer party every year, set us up. My date’s name is Kim. She’s blond, tall, and talks a lot. Over the last year and a half, I’ve been focused on growing my business. I haven’t dated much. Stacie knows this and has been nudging me to go out with one of her friends or another. I finally caved, making Kim here, the lucky winner.
“Go, Big Blue!”
I physically recoil. If there’s any one thing an Ohio State fan hates, it’s our rivals, the University of Michigan. The bad blood runs deep. Ohioans come out of the womb primed to despise the Wolverines.
“Oh crap. I forgot you played for OSU.” Her smile is coy when she reaches across our table to stroke my hand with short pink fingernails. She’s a nurse, so the pads of her fingers feel rough on my skin. It’s a unique sensation.
I’m trying to decide if I like it.
“Forgive me?” Kim’s still touching me, her smile flirty. She’s kind. Pretty. And boring the shit out of me. I know that’s not nice, but it’s true. Hell, it could be me. I’m out of practice.
“My loyalty to the Bucks runs bone deep.” I slide my hand away to lift my beer glass. I flash her a smile and try to joke. “I don’t know that this difference is surmountable. Have you ever considered converting?”
“Never.” She’s smart and knows I’m teasing her. Long eyelashes flutter over blue eyes as she grins. “I’m sure we could find other ways we’re compatible.”
Twirling her hair around one finger, she watches me with a bedroom stare. Stacie was frank when she set up this date a few weeks ago. “Kim’s been talking about how it’s been a while since she’s had a really good lay,” Stacie had told me. “Like you, she hasn’t had the time. You both work too much.”
It took Kim and me ten days to find a common time slot when we weren’t at work, so Stacie was right about the workaholic thing.
“Do you go by Jack? Jake? Jax?”
“Jackson mostly. Jax sometimes.” I can’t discern why, but my attention span is short. My patience is thin. My mind keeps wandering to work and the Lowe’s order that was screwed up. Then to Allie, who was talking on her cellphone outside while I was arguing with the delivery guy this morning. She wore short denim shorts and a T-shirt that had slipped off one shoulder. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the thin material, a fact that I, and the delivery guy, noticed. If he hadn’t had the sense to appear apologetic when I caught him gawking, I would’ve punched him.
“I like your beard, Jackson mostly,” Kim says. “Is it as soft as it looks?”
I’m saved from answering by the arrival of dinner. I’ve already decided I’m not going home with her. Which makes no brain sense but feels more like a gut-call. Maybe my gut’s sensing that she’s crazy. Or clingy. Maybe I’m just hungry.
I dig into my steak and baked potato and she picks at her swordfish and broccoli. While we eat, the flirting is back-burnered. After she refuses dessert, I sweep the check.
“Thanks for dinner…” Her voice trails off like she’s waiting for me to say more.
“Thanks for coming out.” I don’t know that I’m very good company, so I add, “It’s been a strange week.”
“Tell me about it. I treated three people who were allergic to potatoes. I don’t think I’ve heard of a potato allergy until this week and then boom, all at once.”
I nod, having no idea what to say to that. I sign the credit card receipt and down my last swallow of beer. We stand, and walk to the door in uncomfortable silence. I lift my hand to her lower back but stop short of touching her. Outside, she pulls in a breath, her hands clasped in front of her like she’s nervous. Before she can ask what I assume will be an invitation to her house, I interrupt.
“I have an early morning tomorrow.”
A little trickle of disappointment creeps onto her face before she places both hands on my chest and kisses me.
Okay. So, not disappointment.
I taste wine on her tongue when she slides it into my mouth, and I wrap my hands around her biceps out of sheer instinct. When she lowers to her heels, she licks—then bites—her bottom lip.
“Your beard is as soft as it looks.” Her fingers play along my collar. “I don’t want anything serious. Just tonight is fine.”
There it is. A gift-wrapped offer of a guaranteed hookup with zero strings attached. Stacie would be proud, and would hear an earful from Kim tomorrow morning if I agree. I know how to satisfy a woman.
“Listen, Kim—” I start.
“Oh no.” Her eyes sink closed. “This isn’t…you’re not…”
“It has nothing to do with you,” I tell her, trying to be nice. Though it doesn’t feel like a lie when I say it. Any other night save this one, I’d have been on the way to her house already. “Can I walk you to your car?”
