Page 48 of Misadventures Of A Single Mom

She would, too.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it!” she yelled. A kid screamed in the background. “Shoot, I’ve got to go. Caroline blew a bubble and it popped all over her hair.”

Click.

I fellasleep on my bed, face first, with the bags from the shopping trip at my feet. I’d bought two dresses, a pair of black strappy heels, and underwear from Victoria’s Secret at the mall. Kelly ordered me to get matching sets, so I ended up with black lace, red satin and an ivory pair that were made out of some sheer material that left nothing to the imagination.

Initially, Kelly had been disappointed I’d given her coffee away, but forgave me when she learned it was for Dex. Skeptical at first, she grew to the idea of me going to dinner with him. Although she was wary of me going out with a guy who gave me the heebie-jeebies, she’d chalked the whole date up to practice. The more I got out there with guys I knew weren’t keepers, the better I’d be once I got to the one who was. Besides, all I had to do with him was eat. Nothing else. Gourmet sex was optional.

Maybe the keeper was Ty. At this point, I didn’t know. I had feelings for him. All kinds of feelings. Did they include love? It was possible but, for now, it was all clouded by the whole someone-wanted-me-dead issue.

At six, I rolled out of bed, showered, shaved, primped and spritzed, and was out the door by seven. Only a little bit late. I’m usually a stickler for punctuality, but I took too long debating what to wear. Did I choose the new black dress or the new red one? The red one screamed fuck-me-now and I didn’t think that was the image I wanted to get across with Dex. My other option was my usual black capris and white shirt, but Kelly warned me she’d shoot me dead if I went in that. So, little black dress it was.

Dex was waiting at the bar, but joined me at the hostess stand when I came in the restaurant. He wore clean Wranglers, boots and another crisp, white shirt. His brown hair was neat, his face shaven except for the handlebar mustache. I had to admit, he looked good. As he approached, his gaze raked over me from head to toe. From the look in his eyes, maybe the black dress screamed fuck-me-now, too. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You look lovely. Would you like a drink?”

He guided me by the elbow to the bar where he’d left his beer and white cowboy hat. The bar was crowded so Dex stood and gave me the tall stool. I sat and crossed my legs. Crap, my dress rode up my thigh just shy of slut. Dex definitely noticed.

I took a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. “Um, beer’s fine.”

He signaled to the bartender, and then turned to me. His leg brushed mine. “I’m glad I ran into you today. I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” he said, without any of the nervousness most men had when admitting their feelings. Dex was one confident man.

My drink came in an icy pint glass. I took a sip. “Really?”

“Like I said at the coffee shop earlier, I think we should start again.”

The hostess approached and showed us to our table. Dex, the gentleman, held out my chair for me. Gilly’s was an upscale restaurant on Main, located in the basement of one of the olderbuildings. The ambience was warm, the lighting dimmed and the food excellent. We sat at a table in the back where it was quieter, a small candle between us.

Kelly had told me to use this as a practice date. I wore a dress and heels, had on makeup and earrings. This in itself was out of the ordinary. I definitely needed practice in the super high heels.

Usually I held my feelings and opinions close, especially with someone new. But with Dex, knowing this would be the first, and only, date, I could lay it on the line, stick it all right out there. Like the top half of my breasts in this dress.

It didn’t matter what I said. I wasn’t trying to impress him. I wanted to make him not like me so there wouldn’t be another date. And this wasn’t actually a date. It was dinner where I could learn more about Morty Moore. He was the key to finding out who wanted me dead. If dressing up and wearing high heels—and dealing with Dex—was the price for information, I could handle that. For about two hours. Then I turned into a pumpkin and went back to my regular life and comfy clothes.

“Start again? I think you made yourself very clear about what you wanted with me the other times I met you.” I held the menu in my nervous fingers.

Dex nodded. “Yes, I did. I still think I’m right.”

Really?I raised my eyebrows.

“Just hear me out. I took you for someone who was a submissive or possibly interested in being one.”

I was offended because that wassoooonot me. “How could you tell by looking at me? You didn’t know anything about me. You still don’t.”

The waitress came for our orders.

“What would you like?” Dex asked me.

“The fish,” I said as I looked at the waitress.

“She would like the fish and I’ll have the steak, rare.” Dex took my menu and handed them both to the waitress.

“I can order my own food,” I commented, my hackles raised. I’d never had someone order for me, except my mom when I was six.

“I have no doubt. But why would you want to? Don’t you find comfort with me taking care of your needs, protecting you?”

“From the waitress?” I asked sarcastically.

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