Page 21 of Perfect Score

"Taking women on dates doesn’t make me a player," I say, my tone steady.

I hear Zoey scoff instantly, her eyes narrowing. "That sounds exactly like what a player would say."

A text comes in on Zoey's phone—I can see Phoebe as the contact from the corner of my eye. I'm sure she is asking why we aren't there.

I turn left at the next light wondering how I'm going to get through to her—convince her that I'm not who she thinks I am.

"I'd have toplaysomeone to actually earn the title," I tell her. "And you act as if I’m leading every woman I take to dinner on some false pretenses.”

She crosses her arms, giving me a hard look. "Sounds like you’re splitting hairs here in order for you to clear your conscience. What are you going to tell me next? That you don’t sleep with any of them?"

"I'm not going to tell you that because we both know it would be a lie," I ease into the breaks at a red light. "But I'm upfront about what I can offer and what I can't, and the women I date are on the same page. We're both adults." I glance over, giving her a single raised brow. "And I don'tsleepwith any of them. I sleep better in my own bed… alone."

"Alone… see, I'm guessing that's exactly why your grandmother is trying to set you up. She's worried about you."

"Really? Is she the only one that worries about it? Because you’re the one wanting to have this conversation. Why exactly do you care if I'm a player or not? Or if I'm photographed with a different model every week?" I ask, easing back on the gas when the light turns green.

She cocks an eyebrow—an annoyed look on her face.

She clears her throat and tries to pass off an uninterested expression, but she wouldn't be this defensive if she didn't care. What I don't understand is why?

"I don’t care. Stay single forever if you want, it doesn't change my life in the least. But I’m here because you had to lie to your grandmother so that she wouldn't set you up this weekend. She must have a reason to think you’ll end up a bachelor for life."

Hearing her say that her life isn't affected by me being single stings in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"Maybe I just haven’t met the right girl," I say casually, though the weight of my statement lingers between us.

She wasn't expecting me to say that, and maybe I'm surprised by it too. Not because I planned on being a bachelor for life, but because I admitted it to Zoey.

Her voice softens. "Will you actually settle down if you find her?” she asks, turning to look at me.

I meet her gaze, and I don’t mean to, but my eyes drop to her full mouth for a split second before returning to the road. I can’t count the times I’ve thought of kissing Zoey, though I’ll never get the chance. She’ll never belong to me.

Another text comes in on Zoey's phone. I don't have to guess that Zoey's text is from Phoebe again.

"Yeah. When I find her… I’ll settle down," I admit, but Zoey is enthralled in her conversation with Phoebe, probably telling her that us being late is my fault.

I turn the steering wheel to the right and into the hotel parking lot.

It's just as well. This conversation was getting past the depth I planned on getting with Zoey this weekend. In fact, I didn't think she'd speak to me at all.

She might think of me as a player, but in the last several hours, she's spoken to me more than she has in the last ten years.

It's an improvement.

Chapter Seven

Zoey

Brent pulls under the large, covered parking area by the front glass doors of the hotel to let me out.

“Why don’t you go in and get our room keys while I unpack the back of the SUV?” Brent offers.

“Good idea,” I tell him, grabbing my purse off the floorboards. Then I text my sister to let her know that we just arrived.

A text comes through almost immediately with a large amount of dirty emojis. She must already be a few drinks in if she’s feeling that frisky.

I walk into the ritzy wide-open lobby with a ten-foot Christmas tree sparkling in the corner by the reception desk, wreaths and twinkle lights strung up through-out.

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