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He chuckles and turns back to Molly. “Good seeing you again, darlin’.”
“You too.” That little fucker flutters his eyes.
I watch Molly leave, mostly with amusement. “Huh.”
“Huh, what?” he asks.
“Here I was thinking you were serious all those times you asked me out, but apparently, I’m not your type.”
Ford chuckles and drains his beer. “Molly’s been trying to sleep with me for years. Still haven’t gone there.”
“Why not?”
“Not sure, really. I’m not usually too picky, can’t be around here, but I get a vibe from him.”
I’m leaning in. “A vibe?”
“Yeah, the kinda vibe where sleeping with him will just be fucking myself over. Pretty sure one time is all it’d take for us to have monogrammed towels and matching rings.”
Wow. That’s … I dunno how I’m supposed to react to that. One time with Molly and he’d be hooked for life? Maybe I should have walked away and let them have this.
“Huh.”
He lets out that bark of laughter. “You like that sound.”
“I’m … processing.”
Ford nudges the menu my way. “Process away, but while you do that, pick some food. Since you’re paying, I might as well order one of everything.”
“I didn’t say I was paying.”
“You said you were if I play my cards right, and when it comes to dates, I’m always on my A game.”
“Not a date.”
“Potato-potahto.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
His smile is crooked behind his beard, and no matter how many times I see him, I’m reminded of an overgrown child. Anevilchild who’s plotting how to take out the babysitter, and as my eyes trail over him, they catch on the bump right above his nipple. Italmostlooks like he has a piercing. “You mean I wore my only pair of clean jeans for nothing?”
“I told you there would be no putting out.”
“Ahh, you break my heart.”
Fucking idiot. I nod Molly’s way. “It’s okay. You have options here.”
“Don’t need options when I’m focused on our date.”
“Not a date.”
“Geez, so fixated on the details.” Ford pretends to turn his attention to the menu.
“I’m regretting this already.”
“No, we can’t have that. Quick, let’s order drinks.” He goes to get up, but I throw an arm out.
I’m never ashamed to tell people I don’t drink, but it’s not my favorite conversation after some of the reactions I’ve had over the years. “I don’t, ah, drink …”
