Page 39 of Clueless Romeo

Nate leaned back in his seat and bit his lip. "He's not wrong. But while I'm waiting, I see no reason to remain abstinent, CJ. I'm attracted to you. It would be a shame to waste the night, don't you think?"

As far as I was concerned, the night had already been wasted. And now that I was sure Roman had no intention of setting me up on a date that would lead to anything more than disappointment, I needed a beer and a quiet place to think.

"Tempting." I forced a laugh. "But I think I'm going to call it an early night. I'm sorry I wasted your time, but I feel like Roman may have mixed things up."

Nate frowned. "Roman doesnotmix things up."

He was only confirming my suspicions. This had been deliberate.

"Maybe there's a first time for everything." I pushed my chair back and pulled my wallet from my pocket, ready to pay for the food I wouldn't be eating.

Nate waved away my attempt to hand him cash. "Don't worry about it. I hope in time you'll reconsider. Now that I know what you like, I'd like to try again if you're open to it."

I wasn't. The same spark I'd felt when staring into Roman's stormy-blue eyes wasn't there. My pulse didn't quicken just from being in his orbit. Only one man held those claims, and I was mad as hell at him. Standing, I dipped my head in apology. "I'm sorry, Nate. I apologize for wasting your time. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

He gave a disappointed nod as I turned away, ignoring the curious stares aimed my way and the questions filling the staffs' gazes as I requested my coat.

Once I was outside, I breathed in cleansing bursts of air that worked to calm my frazzled nerves. Heading toward my Jeep, I could finally relax.

I needed a beer. I needed to think. And then I needed to confront Roman because I was convinced the whole setup had been exactly that.

A setup for failure.

Twelve

Roman

Pacing my living room floor,I scrubbed my hand over the stubble that had needed to be shaved two days ago, which now scraped my palm.

Wearing a pair of loose basketball shorts and a t-shirt, I'd planned on relaxing in front of the TV. Instead, I was losing my fucking mind. And it made no sense.

CJ was now a client. Nate was a client. Together, they made sense. Both athletes. Both good-looking. Both good people. Unlike myself.

They made a great couple, both in appearance and common interests—if you didn't count the financial gap and different levels of taste.

Finding perfect matches was my job. My plan wassucceeding. The two of them were on a fucking date, and I should be ecstatic that my record could possibly remain nearly perfect.

Instead, I was agitated over a guy. I'd stupidly pulled back from a first kiss that I now wished belonged to me, even if I didn't deserve it. Fuuuck. I didn't want to picture Nate kissing CJ, but I couldn't stop the image that crept into my mind. I gripped my phone tighter, threatening to crack the case.

I wasn't proud of using their vast differences as a weapon of sorts. In fact, I felt like a horrible person, but it didn't trump my selfish need to prevent them from becoming one of my success stories. At the very least, I hoped they were having a terrible time. I was such an asshole.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Frustration with myself and the situation only strengthened the more I thought of their date.

What were they doing?

We're they still at the restaurant?

Was CJ dying of boredom and just waiting to get the hell out of there?

I found myself hoping he was ready to bail, but at the same time, I hoped they were hitting it off. Lie. But it was what I told myself anyway.

CJ would be matched. Nate would be matched. And I could get rid of the conflicted thoughts ricocheting in my head.

Maybe.

Probably not.

"Fuck," I growled as the urge to text CJ became overwhelming. Selfishly, I needed to stop whatever connection they might be building. I mumbled under my breath, "Why the fuck do I even care? I don't."

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