Page 3 of Fumbling for Perfection

My heart picks up its already erratic pace in my chest. He could be the answer to crossing an item or two off my bucket list. Propositioning a man who is way out of my league is not something I’m used to. I inwardly snort. Propositioning a manperiodis not something I’m used to.

Tingles of pleasure between my thighs have me squirming in my seat. If I’m going to maybe-possibly-hopefully-I’m-not-sure sleep with this sexy hunk of a human being, I should at least know his name.

“What kind of business do you do, mister...”

“Walker.”

I rest my chin on my hand and tap my cheek with my finger. “Is that your last name or first?”

“First.”

“Hm.”

“What’s with thehm?”

I lift my shoulder and don’t miss how his stormy eyes caress my bare arm. “It’s not a common first name is all.”

“Would you rather my name be John or Dave or Bill?”

“You’re definitely not a John, Dave, or Bill.”

“Meaning?” He sets his bottle down and mirrors my pose.

“Meaning you’re too...” I wave my hand through the air. “Tooyouto have such a plain name. No offense to the Johns, Daves, and Bills out there.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment?”

I nod. “Most definitely. Do you have a last name, or do you go by Mr. Walker?”

The easy-going smile drops for a split second before it’s back on his face. “My last name isn’t as exciting.” His lips turn into a panty-soaking smile. “Now that you know my name, it’s only fair I know yours.”

“Riley.” I hold my hand out across the table, and instead of shaking it, he brings my knuckles to his lips and places a soft kiss on them. “Oh,” I sigh.

“Riley. Is that your first or last name?”

I stare at our joined hands. His is huge. Masculine. I don’t have dainty hands, but they’re dwarfed in his. I blink back my lust and roll my tongue up from the floor.

“Um. My last.”

“Really?”

I tear my gaze away from our hands and meet his eyes. “Yeah. I hate my first name. I was a tomboy in school. I still am, really. Everyone calls me by my last name.”

“What’s your first?”

I laugh. “Not a chance in Hell.”

“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s notbad.It’s just...it makes me sound like an old lady. It’s a family name, otherwise I would have legally changed it when I was eighteen.”

“Aren’t old-fashioned names back in style?”

“Yeah, if you’re a toddler. Not if you’re thirty.”

“Helga?” I shake my head. “Prudence? Olga?”

I can’t help my rum-induced giggle. “No, no, and no.”

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