“No, Greatest Generation, that’scordonbleu.”
“Excuse me, I’m a millennial.” Barely, but I made the cutoff. She can’t be that young. She’s drinking, so she’s at least twenty-one. And I don’t feel forty-two.
She raises her eyebrow.
“Okay, fine.Eldermillennial. On the line of Gen X, but that’s the cool generation. How old are you?” I ask.
“Just turned twenty-three.” She takes a sip of her drink. Shit, I’m almost twice her age.I could be her fucking dad. “How old are you?”
She knows how old I am. It was obvious she did her homework when she brought up my sponsorships and career highlights earlier.
“Does it matter?” I ask. That’s the important question.
She looks down and straightens her cocktail napkin, pausing before she answers. “No.”
The tension between us is building. I’ve dated on and off for almost a year and not once have I experienced the attraction I share with her. Maybe it’s true what they say: you find someonewhen you’re not looking. I’ve all but given up on dating, and she practically falls into my lap. I file that image away for later. How do I sayNo, I don’t want to do your show, but would you like to go out to dinner with me?without sounding like a complete asshole? Like I’m haggling for a lower price, handing over a hundred, and asking for change.
It’s a dick move. Man, my luck sucks.
Other than the fact that she’s trying to set me up with other women, there’s not one thing I dislike. I’m not doing Kendra’s show…I could do Kendra, though. She’s gorgeous, funny, and sweet. She’s fun and easy to talk to. The past few months of dating have taught me there’s a difference between nice and kind, Kendra is the latter. Those captivating silver eyes are difficult to turn down. And she’s right, I want to find love, but not in front of a camera.
I like this girl. I like her a lot. I like that her clothes are vibrant and she wears too many bracelets. I like the way she tells a story, her voice, how she occasionally touches my arm when I make her laugh. I love the look and feel of her hand when it lands next to mine. Hell, I like that she does her research before going to a business meeting. She’s motivated and on top of her game and can still have fun. She’s got a brain full of big ideas and plans for her future and is determined to see them through. It’s sexy as hell.
She peeks at her phone. “Whoa, we’ve been here over three hours!”
No wonder the wait staff has been checking on us so often.
Feels like twenty minutes. We’ve got that lose-track-of-time connection. The one I’ve been looking for.
“Time flies.”
“So…” she says. “What do you think about the show? How about you take a couple days to think about it?” She bites the corner of her lower lip.Fuck me.
I lean back in my chair and rub both hands down my face.Just bite the bullet and get it over with.
“Kendra, I’m sorry. I can’t do the show. It’s not for me.”
She pauses for a moment, lets her head fall forward, then nods. She’s not happy, but I suspect she knew it would never happen. Still, seeing her bright eyes turn disappointed is harder than I imagined it would be.
“I get it,” she says. “No worries. Thanks for coming out tonight.”
She gives a tight wave to the server to let her know we’re ready for the check. Damn, I’m losing her. Maybe I should have tried to prolong my answer. I don’t want tonight to end like this. I’m still gonna shoot my shot.
“Hey, I’m starving, have you eaten yet?”
She takes the last sip of her drink. “I’m good. I had a protein bar on the way over.”
“That’s not a meal. Come on, let me get you dinner. I mean, it’s the least I can do after turning down the show.”
Her eyes narrow as she seems to consider my invite. It’s more playful than scrutinizing. It’s a good sign. “It really is theleastyou can do.”
“Then let’s start with dinner and go from there.”
We drive around for a little while, but there’s not a lot open.
“What’s your favorite late-night food?” I ask.
“Breakfast.”