Page 10 of Romancing the Rude Guy

“If I would have known you were in a wheelchair.”

She didn’t know.

My stomach churns and I feel foolish for hoping that she knew and came on this date with that knowledge. For thinking that she wanted to meet me despite it.

I should have known better. A woman as sweet, gorgeous, and intelligent as Alice doesn’t need to go on dates with guys like me. She can have her pick of any able-bodied man.

Keeping up the pretense of this being a date that went well, I accompany her to her vehicle, not surprised to see her ride is a Porsche. Despite our age difference, she’s no doubt making close to what I do. She’s a successful career woman, a woman that truly has it all.

We exchange numbers and the next day I call and leave a message thanking her for a nice evening. Despite knowing it’s a lost cause, I also reiterate my desire to see her again. It’s pathetic how much I still want a chance with her.

I’m not surprised when she doesn’t call me back. Though I won’t admit how much it hurts.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALICE

I listen to Marcus’s message for probably the fourth or fifth time while at work. My skin prickles as heat flares through me at the sound of his deep voice saying my name. I’m thankful for an office with a closed door so nobody can see my reaction because I’m positive a guilty flush is burning my cheeks a bright red.

Despite a somewhat rocky start, I thought the date was going well until the end. I don’t know what I said or did, but it was like a curtain dropped over Marcus’s face. Gone was the engaging grin. In its place was a glower.

When we exited the restaurant, I became aware of the difference in our heights due to him being in a wheelchair. I tried not to be too obvious but couldn’t help sneaking peeks at his legs.

He was wearing dark dress slacks that matched his suit jacket and his feet shod in shiny black dress shoes were on the footrest, with a blue strap going around his calves. I suppose that was to keep his legs in place. I didn’t want to stare or ask. It seemed far too personal of a thing.

I was kinda hoping for a kiss when we reached my car. Instead, Marcus asked for my phone number while he rattled off his. After that, he wished me a good night and wheeled away.

I was left wondering if he had a ride coming to get him or how he’d get home. It was on the tip of my tongue to call out and offer him a ride when I came to my senses. I love my car, but I didn’t know if I could even fit his wheelchair in the trunk.

Or if I would need to help him into or out of the passenger seat. I’m pretty fit, but Marcus didn’t look like a small man, and I doubted I could lift him without hurting myself and possibly him.

I’d never given much thought to how people with disabilities got around, other than seeing the mobility scooters at the grocery store. Part of me felt guilty about that.

Now sitting here relistening to his message and realizing I’m attracted to him even with the wheelchair causes the buzz of guilt from last night to grow louder in my head. I shouldn’t think of it like that. A wheelchair isn’t a bad comb-over, this is something he has no control over.

A tiny voice inside my head insists that I’m merely being realistic. I’ve never been out on a date with a man in a wheelchair before, or anyone with a physical disability. This is all new and unchartered territory, so it’s okay to be somewhat apprehensive.

Clicking away from my voice messages, I begin to look up a few things on my phone. No way I’m going to do that on my company laptop. That’s all I need is one of the sites I look up dinging the company’s monitoring program. Even if this isn’t anything bad like porn, I don’t want my boss or anyone else aware of what I’m doing on work time.

Instead of it being a quick search to satisfy my curiosity, I find myself going down a rabbit hole instead. I don’t know Marcus’s level of disability, so I concentrate on just lower body paralysis.

It’s a lot to take in.

And even at home I’m still turning things over in my head when grammy calls.

“Alice, how did the date go?” she immediately asks.

“You never mentioned he was in a wheelchair!” I blurt out.

“What’s that, dear?” she asks sweetly.

I pull the clip out of my hair and run my left hand through my strands as I begin to pace around the room. “Wheelchair. He’s in a wheelchair, Grammy Brooke.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

Stumbling to a stop, I stare at the wall, not seeing anything. “You set me up with him. How could you not know?”

I don’t miss the soft sigh she lets out. “I never met the man.”

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