Page 68 of The Love Wager

You know, I was thinking…

Don’t hurt yourself, red.

Shut up. I was thinking that we really don’t know one another. The circumstances of us were… different.

You want me to sweep you off of your feet all over again?

You’re something else.

We have all the time in the world to get to know one another. But if you want me to take you on a date, all you have to do is ask.

Can you be serious?

Let’s do it. Let’s go on a date. I won’t rush you. If anything, I’ll get more time with you before you toss me back into the ocean of discarded men.

Stop it.

Tomorrow night? I’d say I would pick you up, red, but this is your city.

I’ll come get you at six.

I’ll be waiting.

This picture is of her hand sunken further under her panties, and the angling tells me she’s arched, and her fingers are deep in my favorite place.

So, I hit Facetime.

TWENTY-FIVE

Indie

Ipeel off the skintight dress, shimmying and twisting to get it past my shoulders before flinging it behind me.Another one bites the dust.I don’t know why picking something to wear for this date is so hard. It’s technically not our first date, but it feels like it. This is the first time we won’t have the crutch of the wedding or the wager to fill our time with easy conversation.

My fifteen-minute warning alarm goes off, and I let out a frustrated screech. I pause momentarily, surveying the wreckage of my tiny bedroom—the floor littered with discarded clothes and accessories. I will anything to jump out at me and save me from this indecision.

Fuck it. Why am I trying so hard to impress him?

I spot my favorite, well-worn jeans and pull them on with the first tank top I can find. It’s soft, comfortable, a little loose, and nothing fancy, but it’ll do. I shove my feet into my sandals, barely pausing to fasten the straps before grabbing my purse and throwing it over my shoulder. I’m out the door with five minutes to spare and heading for the car with just enough time to make it by six.

Brooks’ hotel isn’t far from my place, but it’s far enough that I’m not walking. Plus, the restaurant we’re hitting for dinner is down at the pier in the opposite direction. The spring sun is hanging low on the horizon as I drive, painting the sky in bright hues of pink and orange.

I pull into the hotel’s parking lot, steering clear of the valet, who would undoubtedly try to charge me thirty bucks just for sitting there. Realistic and chill—that’s the name of the game tonight. If Brooks really wants to get to know me, he should know that I’m a low-maintenance girl. Until recently, I didn’t have money to blow on fancy dates—I saved every penny, pouring it back into my business.

Now that business is finally booming I could’ve taken him to one of those high-end spots by the water, especially knowing Brooks would never let me pay for dinner in the first place, but that’s just not Brooks’ style. A knock on the passenger-side window startles me, and my phone flies across the car. The locks click open, and Brooks slides into the passenger seat with a grin.

His large frame fills the small space, and the moment he shuts the door behind him, his scent—clean, woodsy, like he just got out of the shower—engulfs the air. My pulse always does that funny little flip when he’s near.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets me with a playful grin, his eyes flicking down to take me in. His gaze lingers on my outfit, noting the casual look, and I feel a little spark of satisfaction. I made the right choice.

“Hey, yourself,” I reply with an easy smile, trying to keep it casual, but there’s a warmth in my chest I can’t entirely ignore.

“I looked up a couple of places around here for dinner. What are you in the mood for?” he asks.

I glance at him, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. “Actually,” I say, “I thought I’d show you one of my favorite places. How do you feel about an ocean view for dinner?”

There’s shockingly no traffic, and we make it in ten minutes. I almost wish there was, so we’d have more time debating the right music to set the mood in the car. You can learn so much from the music someone picks. Ultimately, we settled on a random station and turned it down so he could ask me about the places we passed.

We step out of the car in the public parking lot across from the row of high-end restaurants that line the oceanfront. What Brooks doesn’t know, though, is that the best part is just around the corner: a long pier, aside from the fancy restaurants, where the best fish tacos in the city are served.

---