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“Don’t say it. Don’t take it back. Go out with me.” Then he goes in for the kill. “Please?”
It’s a losing battle. Hell, it’s a battle I didn’t even really show up for. He has me whipped from the beginning, my pulse battered without even really trying. I know what my answer is going to be, and it’s not the same as the one I should give.
“Okay.”
One minute I’m blissfully alone, living with my dad and grandparents, hating all penises for life, and the next thing I know, I’m being seduced into a date with a sexy, smooth-talker wearing work boots and tight jeans.
I’m afraid my panties might be in trouble tonight.
***
I changed my outfit three times before finally settling on a black maxi dress with thick straps, black ballet flats, and a pink sweater. Nights in Jupiter Bay are still chilly, even during the summer months. Average highs for June are eighty degrees with lows dipping down to the upper-fifties, but for the residents of Jupiter Bay, well, we’re all accustomed to the cooler, milder weather.
Fidgeting, I do my best to not pace in the living room while I wait for Ryan to pick me up. We argued for five minutes solid before I ended up caving, allowing him to pick me up for our date. It’s not that I didn’t want him to come to my house, except that it really isn’t my house. If I lived alone and not with my dad and grandparents like an almost thirty-year-old loser, I wouldn’t have fought his chivalrous act tooth and nail. Instead, I repeatedly proposed that I meet him there.
And you see where that got me, right? Standing here–with my grandparents pretending to play Gin Rummy and not completely eavesdropping in the kitchen nearby–while I wait for my first date to pick me up at this house since I was seventeen and heading to prom.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve decided to back out at least a dozen times since I got home, and I probably would have if Ryan would have given me his phone number. The jerk probably did that on purpose so that I couldn’t cancel.
I’m in no way ready to date, am I? I mean it’s only been six months since I was dumped via text from the man I was a handful of days away from giving all of my happily ever afters. It’s too soon. And besides, I’m still not a huge fan of the penis population.
Sure, I’m being unreasonable. One bad breakup doesn’t constitute labeling every male on the planet as a lowdown, dirty heartbreaker, but that one act of misery is enough to construct walls around my heart so tough, it makes Fort Knox looks like a Chuck E. Cheese on a Sunday afternoon.
These walls are thick. I’ve spent plenty of days and nights doing yoga for my relaxation and flexibility, and then following it up with a pint of ice cream. And after I consumed my cup of sugary deliciousness, I’d reinforce my heart, brick by brick. It’s better than any self-help video you’ll find on the internet, let me tell you.
Brown eyes the color of smooth, rich chocolate flit through my mind. Damn him. Yes, damn him, because I’ve known him for all of six days–spent less than a half hour in his presence–and I can already tell he has the ability to break me. Ryan Elson, with that charming, boyish smile and a body that makes me want to beg for mercy, has the complete capability to chisel away at my carefully fashioned barrier. He’s a smooth operator, this he has already demonstrated, which means I’m just going to have to be extra vigilant where he’s concerned.
The front door opening snaps me out of my self-inflicted pep talk. My dad walks in, his graying hair disheveled and his green eyes reflecting fatigue. Yet, for as drained as he appears, as soon as his eyes land on me, he smiles that same wide, lopsided grin that I’ve always known and remember. The same one that accompanied him in every photograph of our family, clear back to the wedding photo hanging in the hallway.
“You look nice, sweetheart. Are you going out?” he asks, setting his hat and briefcase down on the chair.
I glance down at my dress, wondering for the ten-zillionth time if it’s the right choice for tonight. Ryan wouldn’t tell me where we were going so I had a hell of a time picking something that could work in a casual diner or a nicer restaurant.
“Yeah, I’m…uh…I’m going to dinner.” My dad’s right eyebrow rises. “With a guy.”
The surprise is obvious, though he tries hard to cover it quickly. “Really? That’s great!”
“Is it? I mean, is it too soon to be going out? On a date?” My voice trails off until it’s almost inaudible.
“No. Absolutely not,” Dad says while stepping forward until he’s directly in front of me. “You’ve been home for six months now, Jaime. There’s no mandatory waiting period that deems when it’s appropriate for you to start dating again. Only you can say when it feels like the right time.”
There’s a pregnant pause as I let his words sink in. Going out on one date doesn’t constitute a relationship. In fact, I could easily play the field and enjoy a few free meals while getting back in the game. Of course, that doesn’t really sound like me either. I’ve never been one to jump from guy to guy, keeping it light and breezy. Casual was never my thing. Long term, commitment was the path I chose.
Maybe it’s time to add casual dating to the checklist.
Before I can say anything, a hard knock sounds at the front door. Air catches in my throat as I quickly smooth out my wrinkleless dress, one of the many nervous gestures I’ve become accustomed to whenever Ryan Elson is in the vicinity.
Dad steps back and opens the door before I can even think about moving. As if I’ve stepped into a time warp, not only am I aware of the fact that my dad has on his Dad-face and is staring down my date, but my grandparents have conveniently appeared at the kitchen doorway, both pushing the other to try to get into the room first. This is far worse than prom.
“Good evening,” Ryan says, eager eyes anxiously searching me out.
“Hi,” I croak out through a dry throat.
Ryan is wearing a pair of dark denim jeans with a navy blue Henley shirt. It’s tight and accentuates the definition in his arms and chest and instantly causes warmth to rush to my core. His worn boots are replaced with a newer pair; these free from scuffs, dirt, and everyday wear. Who knew work boots could be so sexy? Good God, this man is potent.
My brain skids to a stop of its mental undressing, quick to catch up to the fact that we have an audience. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that my grandparents are both grinning like they know a huge secret that they’re dying to share, while my father’s eyes dart between Ryan and me.
“Ryan, this is my dad, Brian Summer.” Ryan quickly steps forward and shakes my dad’s hand, exchanging courteous small talk.
