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I don’t know what’s going on in my head right now. I started the night on a date with a very nice, but slightly boring man and I’m clearly ending it with a hot, yet grumpy hunk of a man. I should feel horrible about how my date with Alan ended.
I was surprised when I received the drink. Even more surprised to see it was from Theo. I haven’t seen the man in weeks. Not since our impromptu lunch and walk. I’ve thought about him a lot. But I haven’t gone out of my way to see him.
Alan didn’t believe me when I told him Theo and I were just work associates. He had some choice words for a man who would send a woman a drink when she’s with another man. I was actually shocked to hear that come from him.
Look at Alan, he does have a backbone in there.
The thought shoots a wave of guilt through me. I like Alan, I really do, but I just don’t think I see him being the one. Which means, after tonight, I'll probably need to end things with him. Especially if I go home with another man.
Oh my, I’m getting ahead of myself, clearly. Theo only asked me to stay for a drink. He’s said nothing about us leaving together. But then why did his intense eyes bore into me when he asked about my relationship with Alan? It made me feel all the things.
It had me imagining all the dirty things that could happen between us after just one look.
The deep need to find out what emotions his face will convey when I take my top off. Will his grumpiness ebb for just a moment?
I want to find out how quickly the tingles he caused low in my belly move farther down my core when his large hands smooth over my flat but soft stomach.
Yet my most pressing urge is the need to be in his presence, so with one last look in the mirror, I return to his table.
He’s not on his phone like I suspect him to be. He sits, leaning back in his chair, twirling his full glass.
I don’t know where the night will lead, but I agreed to stay for a drink. I’m allowing myself to forget, if just for the night, that this man is off-limits and feel everything I want to feel.
So I drag my hand over his shoulder as I slowly pass by him to let him know I’m back. Taking a seat, I find another drink but also a glass of water.
“Smart thinking on the water.” I smirk as I grab my third glass of Moscato. If I hadn’t had dinner with my first glass, I’d be more than the little tipsy I’m feeling. The water will help me keep a level head.
“I figured you probably didn’t want to get wasted on a Tuesday night.” He doesn't smile, but his face is content. Maybe if he relaxes just enough, I’ll see the missing in action grin of his.
“You are correct. Hangovers in your thirties are far worse than in your twenties,” I say.
And for a minute, I see a flash of… something in his eyes. The space between us still sizzles and I can’t find anything worth saying at the moment.
A few moments pass before he gives in. “I feel like you always have something to say.”
“You would be right.”
“So tell me something.” His voice is smooth. I arch my brow, so he adds, “Anything.”
I ponder the request for a minute, snagging my bottom lip on my teeth. I don’t miss how his eyes catch the act.
So I tell him about some of the recent weddings I’ve worked. I tell him about the two troublemaker grandmas and then about a recent bridezilla. I get a few smirks, but that’s it, no full smiles.
“So a few months ago I had a client who got married in Mexico.”
“You plan destination weddings?” he interrupts, intrigued.
“I do,” I offer.
“You attend them?”
“Not always. In this case, I was hired to coordinate, not handle the full planning like what I’m doing for your sister.”
“Interesting. Go on.” He motions with his hand.
“Anyway, the bride’s grandfather was a photographer and she asked him to handle all the photos. So that was great.”
“Do you like it when clients have family and friends handle things professionals would be better suited for? Does that make your life more difficult?”
