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“I’m not pregnant, and I’ve never been married.”
But my first love is back in my life, and that has me confused. I should tell him and cancel our date. I’m not good at seeing more than one guy at a time, not that I’ve tried.
“I’ll come back another day when I have cash.” He smirks with a James Marsden smile, the kind that involves his eyes, forcing them to squint a fraction.
And just like that, I no longer wish to cancel our date.
“How did you know I was lying?”
“My grandfather doesn’t have credit cards anymore.”
I frown. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually a liar.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t?—”
He lifts one eyebrow.
I blush and shake my head. “You nearly scared the crap out of me. I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
“God! I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have come.” He returns his hat to his head. “If you don’t want to go out next weekend, I won’t blame you.”
“I hate first dates,” I say.
He glances up at me, and his anguish multiplies.
“I have to find the right outfit. My hair never cooperates. The restaurant is usually overpriced, and I hardly taste the food because I’m too focused on making sure it doesn’t stick between my teeth.” I shrug. “There are many reasons why I’m thirty-one and still single, but hating first dates is at the top of that list. So …” I turn and retrieve two soda glasses. “Do you have a curfew?” I glance over my shoulder.
His expression softens. “No.”
“Great.” I snag my keys and hold one out to him. “Lock the door, flip the switch on theOpensign, and sit on a bar stool.”
He hesitates for a few seconds before taking the key. I turn toward the fountain machine and mix up a cherry-lime Rickey and a brown cow.
“Chips, pretzels, or popcorn?” I ask with a grin, sliding the drinks in front of him.
Koen gives me that winning smile again. “We’re really doing this?” He unzips his jacket.
“I think we should.”
“Then popcorn, of course.”
I laugh. “Of course.” Stealing a bag, I peel it open and set it on the counter between the two sodas before hopping onto the sparkly red swivel stool beside him.
“You haven’t introduced me to your sidekick.” I nod to his dog.
He follows my gaze. “This is Scrot.”
“Scrot?”
“Yes. Rhymes with boat.”
“Nice to meet you, Scrot.”
He slides into a down position below Koen.
When I glance up, Koen chooses the brown cow, sipping from the stainless steel straw. “Is this a first date?” he asks.
