Page 23 of Fumbling for Perfection

With limited clothing options, it doesn’t take me long to dress. I look up the Thai restaurant she suggested and see it’s super casual. My clothing options are two suits, workout clothes, and jeans. I shrug on the jeans I wore on the plane and a navy blue, nondescript sweatshirt.

With forty minutes to spare, I respond to an email from my agent and scroll through the real estate app I recently downloaded. At quarter of, I check my pocket for my wallet, hotel key, and phone, and head out to meet the woman who’s held the starring role in my dreams for the past three weeks.

It takes me less than five minutes to reach the restaurant. Could be because of my long legs or it could be because I practically ran here. When the hostess greets me with a warm smile, I glance around the restaurant.

There’s only one room with no private nooks, and a quick look tells me she’s not here yet. Good.

“There will be two of us. Is it okay if we take that table?” I nod toward a small table near the back that’s semi-private.

The hostess responds with a smile. “Sure. Follow me.” When we reach the table, she sets two menus across from each other at the square four-seater table. “Can I get you a drink while you’re waiting?”

“Two waters for now. Thank you.” When she leaves, I move the other menu to the seat next to me.

Usually, I like to sit where I’m not as conspicuous. I don’t mind the fanfare and autographs, but I prefer my privacy when eating, whether alone or with my teammates. And sometimes a woman.

Since I’m not as known in Boston, I’m not as concerned, but I take the seat that keeps me out of view anyway. I keep looking over my shoulder for Riley. When I see her, I stand and cross the restaurant like it’s on fire, wanting to be the first to reach her. It’s not like I’m worried someone else is going to snatch her away from me, but I can’t help it.

“Hey,” I say as calmly as I’m able. “I got us a table already.”

“Okay.”

I place my hand on her lower back, and even through the thickness of her sweatshirt and puffy vest she’s wearing, I can feel her heat. Okay, maybe it’s my imagination, but my imagination has been getting an intense workout these past few weeks.

Pulling the chair out for her, I offer to take her vest. She shrugs out of it and I drape it over the empty chair across from her. Once she’s seated, I settle next to her. Our knees brush up against each other just as I envisioned.

Her cheeks turn my favorite shade of nipple pink and I pick up my menu, pretending not to study every perfect feature on her face. “Anything in particular you recommend?”

Those wide, chocolate eyes framed by long lashes stare at me, and I concentrate on the menu, not reading a single word, cursing my dick for twitching behind my zipper.

Riley picks up her menu and I steal a glance at her. She sucks in her bottom lip and blinks at the menu in her hands. If I’m not mistaken, she’s not reading the words either.

“How was your day?” I ask like we’re a normal couple having a normal dinner.In my dreams.Because I’ve never wanted this as a reality.

“Um. Good I guess.”

“Crisis averted?” I set my menu down and fold my hands over it.

“Crisis?” She closes her menu as well and picks up her water glass, taking a sip.

I don’t like how she’s nervous around me. I’d hoped we were beyond that. “This afternoon? You said you had to deal with something at work?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders drop and she finally relaxes. “A double-booking of clients. Ruthie is a bit...extra. She’s quite particular about who trains her, and she wasn’t happy about it being Lisa and not Brad.”

I’m still not thrilled about her being nervous. Almost like she’s hiding something or expecting something bad to happen. “What’s wrong with Lisa?”

“Nothing. She’s amazing. But she’s not Brad.”

“And what makes Brad so great?”

“His looks and personality.” I bite back the jealousy that runs through my veins. “He’s married. And faithful to his wife. He dropped Ruthie as a client after she continued to hit on him and grope his muscles.”

Muscles.I’ll show Riley muscles. The only thing savingBradfrom me is his faithfulness to his wife. At least I don’t have to worry about him hitting on Riley while I’m away.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Not really. Ruthie’s a marathon runner. We met at a half-marathon we both ran a few years ago. She’s been a member of Boston Strong ever since. When I hired Brad a few months ago she requested to work with him instead of me. Her reasoning was the importance of trying out different trainers so her body wouldn’t plateau with the conditioning exercises I’ve been writing for her.”

“While there’s some validity to her argument, it’s a slap in the face to drop you.”

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