Page 8 of Play Book

Just one night.

Maybe two.

I could buy her dinner, maybe take her for a walk on the beach.

I don’t believe in love, but romance is okay.

Again, in small doses.

She looks up and catches my eye, hers practically pleading with me to come to her rescue.

Ah, shit.

How did I go from not getting involved to being totally involved?

“Where are you going?” Marty asks, following my gaze.

“Uh, it’s a long story.”

“That’s Chey’s friend Saylor, right?” He and his wife had been at her gallery’s opening as well.

“Yeah… and I kind of offered her a ride home.”

“You kind of offered her a ride home?” he asks, quirking up one brow.

“She’s on a bad blind date, and the words just kind of popped out. I have to go.”

I don’t wait for him to respond—and more than likely give me shit—as I head in her direction.

“You ready to go?” I ask.

“Yes. Thank you.” She quickly gets up, giving her date an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Russell. Take care. And please give my regards to your aunt.” She practically snatches her card from the waiter, scribbles her signature on the check, and then slides her arm through mine.

I catch Marty’s look of surprise, but I don’t have time to worry about that.

I just want to get Saylor into my Ferrari and spend a little time with her.

I’ll worry about why later.

THREE

Saylor

I don’t have escape-a-bad-blind-date-with-a-hunky-hockey-player on this year’s bingo card, but I’m currently in said hockey player’s gorgeous Ferrari speeding away from Russell and the date from hell.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Hell, it isn’t even in the top five bad dates I’ve ever had, but it was awkward, and everything is exacerbated by the fact that I care about Russell’s aunt. She’s more than a customer. She came into the gallery while I was still setting up a few days before the show and immediately ordered several pieces to be delivered.

Then she sent me a handful of friends who showed up at the grand opening and practically wiped me out of inventory. They also commissioned a few pieces that will pay the rent at the gallery for the next year or so.

It’s a big deal, but that’s not the only reason I don’t want to ruin the relationship.

Bertie is smart and funny, and we’ve become fast friends despite the age gap, since she’s old enough to be my grandmother.

“You okay?” Canyon asks me as he pulls into traffic.

“Yeah. Just thinking about Bertie and hoping she’s not upset with me.”

“If she cares about you the way you care about her, she’ll understand it wasn’t meant to be. I mean, she has to have an inkling about what kind of guy her nephew is.”

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