Page 6 of Play Book

Well, either way, it’s not my business.

I’m about to avert my eyes when I see her scowl.

Obviously, the date isn’t going well.

Then she abruptly gets up and hurries toward the restrooms.

I should leave it well enough alone—it really isn’t any of my business and I barely know her—but I can’t seem to help myself. My feet propel me in the direction she’s gone before I even realize what I’m doing.

Now what?

I stand in the hallway as she disappears into the ladies’ room and finally just lean against the wall. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or something like that.

She’s not in there long and I smile when she comes out.

“Hey, Saylor.”

“Canyon. Hi.” For some reason, I like hearing her say my name.

“How’s the gallery?”

“Wonderful.” Her eyes light up. “It’s going better than I ever imagined.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She leans against the wall and sighs.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Don’t mind me. I’m on a terrible blind date and desperately trying to figure out how to get out of it.”

“Oh.” A blind date? What the hell? Why does a beauty like her need to be set up on blind dates?

“A client set us up,” she continues. “It’s her nephew. But he’s boring and self-absorbed and a bit of a misogynist. We have nothing in common and—” She abruptly cuts herself off. “Sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want to hear about is my disaster of a love life.”

I chuckle. “Believe me, been there, done that. Look, if you need rescuing, I’m happy to jump in and be the jealous ex or overprotective big brother or whatever else fits the bill.”

She worries her lower lip. “I really don’t want to upset his aunt. She spends a fuck ton of money at the gallery.”

“It’s probably best not to mix business and relationships. You should be straight with her and tell her that the two of you didn’t hit it off.”

“I know, but I can’t just invent a boyfriend that didn’t exist last week so I can leave.”

“No, but you can invent an ex-boyfriend.” I wiggle my eyebrows lasciviously, making her laugh.

“The worst part is, I don’t even have my own car. When I came out of work, I had a flat tire and didn’t have time to wait for roadside assistance.”

“I’ll take you home,” I say, throwing it out there before I can stop myself.

What’s wrong with me tonight?

I’m not an overly helpful kind of guy.

Obviously, if someone falls right in front of me, I’ll offer a hand, and I’m always there for my friends, but I don’t owe Saylor anything.

And yet, I’ve just offered to drive her home.

“You don’t mind?” She looks at me with so much gratitude, I can’t help but smile.

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