Page 25 of Falling for my Best Friend

“The one in the blue bottle. Mr. Suave, I think?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed to know what kind of mousse you use in front of me, Brad.”

He smiled. “What should I be using?”

“Mahalo’s a good brand. It’s a little more expensive, but they don’t test on animals.”

I could tell by his face that he wasn’t going to switch.

“Are you guys ready to order?” the waitress said, appearing with a notepad poised at the ready.

“I’ll have the pulled pork wrap,” Brad said.

“Make that two,” I added.

“And to drink?” she asked.

“Two raspberry lemonades,” Brad said, turning towards me. “Trust me on this one.”

I nodded and the waitress disappeared.

“So what do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a personal trainer.”

“Cool,” I said, trying to picture him naked. “Where do you work?”

A smile spread across his face. “In the hotel across the street.” His eyes dropped down to my cleavage before rising back up to my face.

I looked across the street at the four star hotel. It was the type that had its own flag over the entrance and men in charge of opening the doors so no one smudged the spotless glass.

“Interesting,” I said. “What kind of job perks do you get working in a swanky place like that?”

“The right kinds.”

It felt like I’d known him forever. I glanced at his hands. His fingernails were clean. I let my eyes travel up, admiring the way his sleeves squeezed his arms.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with our wraps and drinks. I went for a sip of the raspberry lemonade first.

“That’s delicious,” I said.

“They brew it here.”

“I suppose being a personal trainer means you watch what you eat?”

Something flashed in his eyes. “Oh yeah. I have a very particular diet,” he said, picking up his wrap. “And a very healthy appetite.”

I laughed. I thought maybe he’d used up all his innuendos in our messages before the date. Not so apparently. “And I guess you’re on Tinder because you want to meet your soulmate?”

He covered his mouth and laughed.

I waited for him to finish chewing.

He swallowed. “Of course. Isn’t that why you’re on it? So you can meet the father of your unborn children?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “If anything I’m on it to weed out the people I definitely don’t want fathering my children.”

“Perfect,” he said. “When we’re done eating, I’d love to show you all the reasons I’m an unsuitable candidate.”

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