Page 2 of Play Book

“I’m going to leave it here and call an Uber,” I say.

“Well, come inside,” he says, gently taking my elbow. “You don’t want to wait out here by yourself.”

“Thank you.” I follow him inside his shop, which smells faintly of tobacco and whisky and something earthy. I love being in his store, even though I don’t smoke cigars.

“I’d be happy to drive you, but I don’t close for two more hours.”

“I know.” I smile. “Don’t worry. I actually have a date.”

“Is there a young man in your life?” His eyes twinkle with amusement.

“No.” I make a face. “It’s a blind date. And I’m currently regretting all my life choices.”

He cocks his head. “Beautiful, successful, young woman like you needs to be set up on blind dates? Oh, to be forty years younger.”

I laugh. “I’m thirty-one, so not considered young by dating standards anymore. And you wouldn’t believe how much harder it is to meet nice men when you’re both a little older and successful and independent.”

He shakes his head again. “Well, they’re losing out. I don’t suppose you’d consider dating a man old enough to be your grandfather?”

I laugh. “Of course, I’d consider it. But tonight, I have to be polite and show up. He’s the nephew of one of my customers who spends a ton of money in the gallery. I felt obligated, but in retrospect, I should have made up a boyfriend or something.”

“Maybe he’s nice,” Rudy offers. “You won’t know until you meet him.”

“I don’t have high hopes, but we’re meeting at a popular restaurant, so I’ll be able to escape if necessary.”

“Good.” He turns as a customer comes in.

According to the app on my phone, there’s a driver available who is two minutes away, so I wave to Rudy and go out front to wait. The sooner I show up, the sooner I can get this evening over with. I shouldn’t have let one of my best customers coerce me into saying yes. I hate dating, and I’ve never gone out on a blind date in my life.

I have to admit I’m lonely sometimes, though.

Despite having friends, a successful modeling career, and now a busy, profitable art gallery, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a couple of years. I date here and there, but guys are either looking for a woman to take care of them, looking for someone to stay home and take care of a family while they focus on their careers, or are simply infatuated with Saylor Bonetti, the former supermodel.

I want something else.

Something more.

If I’m going to settle down and share my life with someone, he needs to be supportive of all the different professional irons I have in the fire. I’m still modeling, and I teach at a local modeling school. I have a recurring role on a primetime television show. And of course, I have both my gallery and my art, which take a lot of time.

The truth is, I don’t have time for casual dating or for a man who wants a woman content to be a wife or stay-at-home mom. Hopefully, once I make that clear, I won’t hear from this guy again.

I’m late getting to the restaurant, and of course, this is one of the few days of the year where it’s pouring down rain in Los Angeles. Since I don’t have my SUV, I also don’t have the umbrella I keep in the back seat, and I’m damp when I get inside.

My date, Russell, is standing right there when I walk in, a big smile on his face.

“Saylor! Hey, it’s great to meet you!” He pumps my hand effusively, and I manage a polite smile.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Except it isn’t.

He looks older than the thirty-seven he’d said he was, by about a decade, and although I’m sure someone might find him handsome, it isn’t me.

“Our table is ready! You want me to tell the hostess to seat us?”

“I need the ladies’ room so I can freshen up first,” I say quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

I should know better than to agree to a blind date, but Bertie wore me down. She’s also bought four paintings and has sent me half a dozen new customers in the last few months. One of them commissioned a piece of art I’m charging upwards of ten thousand dollars for, so I don’t want to lose the business. Or Bertie’s friendship, for that matter.

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