Another Shot At Love (7 page)

Kind of dramatic, yes. But at this point it really seemed like a better option.

“That’s not complicated at all,” he mused and twisted some pasta on his spork. Really, his eyes were gorgeous. “This doesn’t look very good.”

“I can almost guarantee it won’t be.”

“I figured as much,” he said. “So you and your ex reminiscing over champagne. Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

“Maybe. It depends on if he shows up with the stripper he cheated on me with.” He raised his brows and I said, “She’s not really a stripper, that’s just what I call her because of…”

He raised his brows. “Because of…?”

“She’s freakishly flexible.” I could feel my face blush and shook my head. “Never mind. That’s not important. The point is, I think my sisters are scraping the bottom of the barrel on the sheer fact they’re worried I’ll take him back.”

He abandoned his fork and went for a piece of garlic bread. “Will you?”

“Hell, no,” I was quick to deny. “Seriously, it’s been months.”

“Are you dating again?”

I tilted my head and peered at him. “No, but how is that relevant?”

“If you’re not dating then it looks suspicious.”

I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not. His lopsided grin and dimples were distracting and deceiving. Maybe this was his super power, hypnotizing women. I blinked a couple of times and answered him before he wondered if I was slow.

“It is?”

He laughed. “That’s what I’ve been told. I have a younger sister who’s always got all sorts of ideas I’ve never entertained myself.”

Sounded like my sisters. I shrugged. “I am dating. Sort of. I’ve been blind-dating.”

“Blind dates never work out, from my experience.”

“I agree—from experience.” I dropped the straw wrapper I had formed into a tiny ball and it landed beside my plate of spaghetti. “I’ve decided to boycott the whole dating thing for awhile. Then I don’t have to worry about guys dumping me over spaghetti or them cheating on me with big-breasted bimbos.”

He threw his head back and laughed and I crossed my arms. He held up his hands, still laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just been awhile since I’ve been around a woman as blunt as you. I think most women might have toned that down a bit to, oh…”

“Save face, maybe?” I asked and he nodded.

Matt picked up the check off the table and dangled it in the air. “That guy is a piece of work.”

I snatched it from his hand. “It’s not funny. Knock it off.”

But I couldn’t stop smiling, not with a face like his smiling back at me.

“It’s a little bit funny, isn’t it?” he asked and measured the air with his fingers. “I thought for sure you were going to jump across the table and strangle him. Which is why I decided to stick around instead of taking my food to go. Just in case I needed to save you from an assault charge.”

“That’s very chivalrous of you.” I grinned back at him and covertly checked out his ring finger—no shiny band.

“So what are you going to do about your ex?” he asked and was back to poking his pasta.

“I don’t know. I hate having to think about him. He’s kind of like those gray aliens, you know, the bad ones,” I said, only half joking. It was those damn documentaries I’d been watching. Brent definitely had gray alien attributes—like cheating. I had a good idea that gray aliens cheated on their gray alien mates. Bastards.

He chuckled. “Gray aliens?”

“It’s this thing,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Alien documentaries. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a month.”

“So why do you keep watching?” he asked, and I had a feeling I was amusing him.

“It’s addicting.” I shook my head and sat up taller in my seat. “Anyway, that’s not the issue. The whole engagement party thing is ruining my life.”

“When’s the party?”

“It’s in July.” My eyes were on his lips again—they really were marvelous. The sudden, outrageous idea to ask him, a complete stranger, to be my date crossed my mind. But only for a second. I’d already been humiliated enough for one night.

“Two months,” he said.

“After this,” I waved my hand with a heavy sigh, “I think I’ll just go solo. I’m giving up dating for an indefinite period of time. It’s too much work.”

He chuckled. “It really holds no interest for me, either, so I sympathize.”

On a normal night, I might have asked him why, especially given he was a gorgeous guy with insanely kissable lips. But this was not a normal night. This was a night from hell.

I stood. “I think I’ll go home and eat a box of cupcakes or something.”

“A cupcake will fix anything, especially if they’re chocolate with sprinkles.” The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“A man who knows his cupcakes. I like that.” I slung my purse strap over my shoulder. “Enjoy your dinner, Matt.”

When I turned to walk away, he touched my arm and the effect was immediate—racing heart, butterflies, expectation. When I focused on his face, his gaze was intense. I wouldn’t have been able to look away from those hazel orbs if I tried. But that was beside the point—I didn’t want to look away.

“Gen?”

“Y-yes?” I hated how my voice cracked. I sounded like one of the teeny-boppers at the table next to us.

“See you later.” His lips turned up and I sucked in a breath. It was just a smile,
sheesh
.

What is your problem?
My mind had gone blank. I stared down at him like some sort of weirdo in a besotted trance.

“Okay,” I said, my voice so soft I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me. I didn’t wait around to find out; I gave him a small finger wave and bolted. When I got to the cash register I realized I should have asked for his phone number. How could there be a “later” if I didn’t know how to get hold of him?

Real smooth, bozo.

I glanced back to the table, but Matt was already gone. Just as well. He’d turned my brain to mush in the short time I’d sat with him.

Chapter Three

I stepped outside and sucked in a heavy breath of humidity. The heat wasn’t something I’d complain about. It had been a long winter, and after an almost non-existent spring, May had rushed in with low-to mid-ninety degree weather, as if summer had never gone. The wind caught the skirt of my dress and I used one hand to bunch the material together and hold it down against my legs. That was when I noticed him leaning with his back to the building a few feet from the door.

Crossing my arms, I asked, “Is this later, then?”

I had to tilt my head to look up into his face, even with him leaning against the wall. But at five foot four, almost everyone towered over me.

“Yes, it’s definitely later,” he said and flashed a lopsided smile.

I wondered if he realized how sexy he was, standing there in his suit, his jacket thrown over his shoulder. His tie was still loose at his neck, slightly askew as it lay over his shirt. The five o’clock shadow of his beard added to the dark and dangerous thrill running up my spine. My forehead beaded sweat, and I had a feeling it had a lot more to do with Matt than with the early evening heat.

He stepped closer, and I sucked in a breath, already lost in his eyes.

“Okay, then.” Another gust of wind had me holding down my skirt again. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

When he handed me a business card, I took it after only a moment’s hesitation and peered down at it:
Matt Sesnick, Financial Advisor.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. Something…else,” he said. My heart still beat an erratic
thump-thump
in my chest. “I noticed you hadn’t touched your dinner and I wasn’t interested in taking a chance on the Alfredo.”

“I don’t make a habit of walking off into the sunset with strangers.” My mom would be horrified to know I was seriously entertaining the idea of it tonight, though.

“It’s just dinner, I promise,” he said. “No strings attached.”

“No strings attached,” I repeated, and blushed because it reminded me of Roxanna’s concept of modern dating—going Dutch and no-strings-attached sex.

“Just a hungry man who wouldn’t mind sharing dinner with a beautiful woman whose story is the most intriguing one I’ve heard in awhile.”

How could I say no to such an invitation?

I grinned. “You really need to get out more.”

“Probably.” He slid his hand into his slacks pocket and his eyes smoldered at me. “What do you say?”

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m going to text my friend where I’m going just in case. And…”

I flagged down a woman wearing a blue sundress and oversized shades.

“Hi,” she said, a bit of suspicion in her voice.

“Hello.” I held my phone out to her, and she set her shades on top of her strawberry blonde hair before taking it from me. “Would you mind taking a picture of me and my friend?”

Matt raised his brows, but didn’t say anything. “Sure.” Her words were for me, but her attention was captivated by Matt. Not like I blamed her. He didn’t even seem to notice her staring.

I poked Matt in the side. “This way if you’re a psycho—or an alien—you won’t get away with cutting me up into little pieces or melting me into a green glob.”

The woman’s eyes widened in alarm but Matt used his super powers on her—dimples and eye-twinkling—and she was instantly relieved. He said, “She’s just kidding. Gen has a strange sense of humor and an obsession with aliens.”

He settled his arm over my shoulder and I snuggled in, taking advantage of the moment to get close. The corners of his lips were lifted into a ghost of a smile; just enough to reveal dimples as he stared down into my eyes. The woman cleared her throat and I turned my attention to her, smiling brilliantly because when the night was over, I would have a picture to remember him by.

The woman took two pictures then handed the phone to me.

“Thank you very much,” I said, my eyes glued to the first picture. In the picture we could pass for a couple, and there I was, very content as I clung to him.

He peered over my shoulder at the picture and his breath ruffled my hair when he said, “Not bad.”

“Very good insurance.”

“I wouldn’t dream of misbehaving,” he said and a thrill of excitement pulsed straight down to where it counted.

Honestly, four months of celibacy and I was panting over a stranger like a dog in heat. Shameless.

He put his arm around me and turned us in the direction of Grace Street. “Let’s go, Beautiful. I know a place that makes great burgers.”

We fell into step, strolling down the sidewalk at a lazy pace despite most of the people around us speed walking, in a hurry to get wherever they were going. I wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere, not now.

“I thought that pasta robbed me of my appetite, but I’m actually really hungry,” I said.

“Lucky for you this place doesn’t serve lumpy food.” He steered us around a couple talking in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Tell me they serve beer,” I said, and he gave me a sidelong glance with an adorable chuckle.

“They do.”

“Good. A beer sounds fantastic about now.” I was in no hurry, but still, I was nervous. Maybe a beer would kill the edge. Even though Matt was easy to talk to, he was still a stranger, and I was a woman who hadn’t been on a date with a new man in years. The last four dates from hell, compliments of Catherine, didn’t count. And after my breakup with Brent, I’d decided not to count him as anything in my life ever again.

I kept my gaze forward in an effort not to get caught up in his eyes and trip over my feet. When we turned the corner at the end of the street, I asked, “So you know why I’m burned out with the whole dating thing but you haven’t told me why you are, too.”

He hesitated before answering. “Bad timing, I guess. I’m just not interested in jumping into a serious relationship any time soon.”

“I’ve had enough of serious for a while,” I said. “Dating is supposed to be fun, but this whole must-find-a-date-
now
pretty much took the excitement out of it. I guess really what I’m looking for is someone to hang out with, minus all the complication.”

“Casual,” he suggested.

“Yeah, casual I guess.” I glanced over at his profile. He was all chiseled lines and lean muscle. “You know, going Dutch.”

“Makes sense. I like that.” He pointed down the street. “See that place?”

“Big’s Burgers & Beer?” It was a squat cement building painted a shade of burnt sienna with a large red sign above the door. When I was in high school it used to be an appliance repair shop. “You come here often?”

“I’ve stopped in a few times. My friend’s cousin owns the place.” He took my hand and started across the street, careful to match his pace to my much shorter one. When a pickup truck turned the corner toward us, I broke into a jog beside him. He didn’t release my hand when we stepped up onto the curb and I wasn’t interested in taking my hand back. He said, “You can explain this interesting obsession you have with aliens over the best onion rings you’ll ever eat.”