Page 9 of The Player's Obsession

“Right.” Shit.I like old school.“Fine, I’ll text you tonight.”

With a smug look, he drops the keys into my open hand.

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“Bye,” I spit out in frustration. The man is infuriating, controlling, and oblivious to the meaning of the word “no.”It would be rude not to end the conversation before I leave, right?

I whirl on my sneakers and make a beeline for my car. Did I just agree to a date? And I have to text him. Did he say he’s looking forward to it? What the hell just happened?

I’m pissed at myself. I’m going on a date with a football player.

Yuck.

I stomp back to my car, unlock it, and put the caddy in the trunk before closing it.

I start Bess and back out of the driveway making sure I look carefully for cars. I don’t need another embarrassing incident today. Falling over the vacuum was enough.

What is it about him that rubs me the wrong way but makes me want to be around him at the same time? Maybe it’s because I’m a woman in her prime living like a monk. I’m sure my ovaries are in their prime. The laws of nature are working against me.

On the bright side, Oliver will probably pick an impressive place to eat. People who go out often always know the best places to go. Plus, I can use the experience to brush up on my dating skills which are collecting dust faster than the blinds in my apartment. I hate dusting. I hate being forced to do anything. Dusting is one of the cleaning items I push off to once a month at my apartment because I detest doing it, but it must be done in the end.

So why does Oliver intrigue me?

He has plenty of money and success. Why isn’t he married?

The trick to dating is obtaining information without sounding like a job interview or a questionnaire at the doctor's office.

The big questions like job and age can be answered with a simple Google search. I’ve already met him, so that removes the anxiety of meeting for the first time. I want to be in love, it’s been so long since I had the butterflies in my stomach when a man looked at me. I forgot what it feels like.

Until today.

Why does he want a date with me when I’m so clumsy? Did it start as a pity date and turn into a challenge when I said no? Or, does he hit on the women who clean his house?

I’m being absurd. I doubt he put much thought into anything of the sort. He wants to apologize for laughing at me. That’s all. One date, how difficult can that be? I know I won’t get stuck with the bill. I'm pretty certain he has a reputation to uphold. Highly affluent places are like that, everyone will know him.

I wish I could wipe that smug grin off his face. He dangled my keys in front, knowing he had control over the situation. And I caved like an over-baked soufflé.

I spent the drive home replaying and dissecting every line and look that passed between us.

I wish he didn’t smell so incredible. I wish he never touched my fingers. His touch was light, his fingers were softer than expected. I’ll never admit that he sparked my interest.

And something a bit further south, as well.

I arrive home with no memory of the drive. I was lost in my thoughts about Oliver, and the time flew.

I lock my car and unlock the door to my apartment. I have to call Lucinda. I wonder if she knows more about Oliver than she’s letting on. How did I happen to be at the house when he came home? Lucinda is a perfectionist, and she would never make a mistake when it comes to scheduling. holiday week or not.

Did she set me up?

CHAPTER5

Oliver

Touchdown! I've finally nabbed exactly what I was after, and I can't help but let a triumphant smile spread across my face. 'Penelope' – now that's a name that I don’t hear every day. 'Morelli' sounds Italian, though its origin is hardly a concern. Lately, I've been so lost in my own thoughts that I completely spaced on securing a date for the upcoming wedding. The event is mere days away, and here I am, scrambling. My plan? To make Melanie regret leaving me. If I show up with a woman like Penelope, she’ll gain attention from the guys and make my ex green with envy. I’ve met enough wives and girlfriends to recognize the flaky ones, and that’s not my style.

Why did I procrastinate on finding a suitable date?

It’s because of her—the one who got away. Some part of me believed Melanie would come to her senses and return to me. I mean,let love go, and if it’s yours, it will come back, if not, it was never meant to be, right?

---