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So I have to go big. Make Seraphina feel special and flattered by a man who is relentless in pursuing her—literally all the way to the farthest side of the city. Because according to London that’s what most women like.
But I can already tell Seraphina’s not most women.
Or at least not like most women I fuck. And chasing her down seems a bit stalkerish, even for my standards. Which as I’m now fully aware are too damn low. For me and for my father.
If I want to make him happy, I need a girl like her.
With the game in the fourth quarter, the parking lot’s still pretty full. No worries. I create my own spot in front of the white tent reserved for special events.
A clear night with a full moon brighter than the lights illuminating the field fills the horizon as I hustle toward the archway and wait at the edge of the wide asphalt path leading to the tan brick entrance.
The slow trickle of people exiting the building increases to a flood after a touchdown by the home team makes the outcome to the game clear. Mostly they’re families with little kids, many of them waving small flags featuring the team’s red and gray mascot. Tired but happy from a fun evening out with a great ending.
I can’t fucking lie. My pulse picks up when I finally see her. Something about Seraphina intrigues me.
The ingenuous beauty she conveys with her beaming smile and clear plastic bag of pink and blue swirled cotton candy swinging in her small hand is the bright spot of my entire day.
Hell, my entire fucking week.
As much as I hate to admit the truth, I really like this girl already. Between what London told me about Seraphina while she berated me during our call to my Dad’s, and then the brief meeting with Seraphina herself at the office, I’m willing to give this the shot my best friend and father want. I have to try and make her mine.
The tantalizing image of Seraphina coming toward me is ruined only by her walking with some smug bastard, who has his motherfucking arm around her shoulder and a shit-eating smirk on his face. Obvious from his swagger he’s a bigger asshole than I am.
Third date is last date, motherfucker.
I’ve claimed her, and no one touches what’s mine.
Seraphina
I force myself not to shrug off Casey’s arm around me. He pretends like the gesture is friendly and playful, although we both know it’s not. Bree gives me the look. Well aware of Casey’s crush and my embarrassment.
And guilt.
So much guilt.
He’s such a nice guy. A really, really, genuinely nice guy. Despite how much I want to, I can’t pretend feelings that aren’t there. Although I want to be friends that’s not enough for him, and I don’t know how to be honest without hurting him.
I want to feel the sensation I experienced when I met Mr. Wiseman this afternoon. In just a few short minutes, he made my pulse race and my heart flutter. Not only because he’s incredibly handsome but also confident and commanding. I get warm all over just thinking about him.
Which is wrong since he’s my employer. And silly since he’s not the kind of man who would be interested in a girl like me.
Or would he?
He did ask me to dinner. The question seemed surreal, and with my nervousness, I almost wonder if I imagined or misunderstood him. Maybe he meant a working dinner?
London has done that before with clients when there were tight deadlines. I order in food for them to eat while they work. That didn’t seem to be the case but what else could it be? Could Mr. Wiseman like me?
Casey tips his head down to mine, reminding me I need to get out of my thoughts and back here with my friends.
“Do you want to come over?”
My stomach lurches from his lips on my ear. I’m not sure why his touch makes me so uncomfortable. I try not to cringe.
Instead, I smile and give him a side hug. Patting his chest a few times, hoping to seem just as casual and relaxed, before winding out of his embrace to snuggle against Bree as we all meander to the parking lot with no one in any big hurry for the evening to end. Pretending to laugh along with my best friend’s comments even when I have no idea what she’s talking about, I hide my remorse from avoiding answering his question.
Casey’s disappointment radiates off his defeated shoulders, slumping and shaking his head at me. Even while I try to ease the blow with a sincere smile and small wave despite the fact he’s only a few feet away. Awkward and futile but I hate how wounded he acts.
“Seraphina!”
