Page 9 of A Different Kind of Hooker

Everything female in me had my fingers typing a mile a minute.

What’sNextwEliza:Yeah, a picture might help.

My chest felt tight as I waited for the picture to come through. I needed to remind myself that whatever he sent could have been stolen also. I mean, what were the odds of the real Heron Treyton reaching out to me? The man played professional rugby and put out fires, for Christ’s sakes. Did the man really have time to reach out to me?

RapierHooker:I took the picture in front of my home computer, so that you could see the time and date for yourself. (attch)

I could feel my mouth drop open at the picture of Heron Treyton standing in front of his computer, the date and time stamp matching what was on my phone, and Holy Mary, Mother of God. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and a simple pair of grey sweats, only nothing looked simple on the man. Heron Treyton was a straight-up god, and every part of me started panting.

What’sNextwEliza:Thank you for that extra effort.

Honestly, I didn’t know what else to say. While I wasn’t a blushing virgin, I knew when someone was out of my league, and I was pretty sure that Heron Treyton was out of most women’s leagues.

RapierHooker:A woman can never be too careful when a stranger from the internet reaches out to her. I can appreciate you being cautious.

What’sNextwEliza:What about Saturday or Sunday around noon?

RapierHooker:Saturday works for me.

What’sNextwEliza:Great. See you then.

RapierHooker:See you then, Eliza.

I clenched my phone in my hand, hoping and praying that he wasn’t some creep.

Chapter 5

Surprise!

Heron~

Like a besotted fool, I had spent all week messaging Eliza, and even sending her pictures of me at the stadium, during the matches. I’d wanted her to feel comfortable meeting me, and I’d wanted her to know that it really was me in every single one of those pictures. Even though we were meeting at Chloe’s in broad daylight, I could still be a scammer trying to steal her life savings.

People were horrible.

With my heart in my throat, I watched as Eliza walked into the café, and she looked every bit as beautiful as she did on her shows. Her auburn-colored hair was thrown up in a bun again, her face looked free of makeup, and she’d dressed casually, though there wasn’t anything casual about those fucking curves of hers. Without that damn kitchen island in the way, I could finally see the woman from head to toe, and it was a shame that she had to wear clothes in public.

I stood up as she approached our table awkwardly. Eliza had a smile on her face, but it was easy to tell that she was nervous, and I didn’t blame her. Hell, I’d been the one to initiate this meeting, andIwas nervous.

“Hello,” I said as I reached over to pull out her chair.

She looked a bit surprised. “Oh…uhm, hello.”

Once she was seated, I sat back down in my chair. “I waited to order,” I informed her.

Her russet-colored eyes looked like a mixture of a million different shades of chocolate. “I usually order the grilled chicken salad and peppermint tea for lunch. I don’t eat here often, but when I do, I never go wrong with their salads.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “They’re supposed to be healthy, but they put way too much chicken in the salad for it to be healthy. Plus, they have every dressing under the sun here, so by the time I’m done drowning the salad in calories, I might as well have ordered a cheeseburger.” She shrugged, and I was pretty sure there went my heart.

“I’m usually on a strict diet while the season is going,” I told her. “While I eat a lot of calories, they’re healthy ones.”

“Well, I can-”

“Let me go place our orders, then I’ll be right back,” I said, interrupting her, hoping that she wasn’t the type of woman that insisted on paying. While I understood it, I had invited her to meet me, so it stood to reason that I’d pay.

“Oh, okay,” she replied softly, smiling at me.

Making my way over to the counter, I had to will my dick to go down. We weren’t here for that, much to his dismay. It wasn’t easy to balance respect for women with wanting them, but I tried. If we respected them too much, then we friend-zoned ourselves. If we didn’t respect them enough, then we were assholes. The balancing act was doubly hard when you weren’t sure what type of woman you were dealing with. Did she want you pulling her chair out for her, or was she going to feel undermined because she could do it herself? It was hard to tell nowadays.

After placing our orders and paying, I headed back towards our table, taking my seat, and the fact that she hadn’t been scrolling through her phone was another plus on my list. I couldn’t think of anything ruder than being on your phone, giving off the impression that you’d rather be doing something else.

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