Page 37 of Hard Hat Hottie

Before I can tell him it’s okay, that I’m heading out, he’s gone in a flash. I dab at my eyes with the back of my hand, hopingthe puffiness I thought I’d managed to control from earlier in the week hasn’t taken residency under my eyes again.

The door flies open, and Rob juts a folded piece of paper in my direction.

“What’s this?”

“Jimmy and I went to the Bingo Hall last week. I won this.” Rob beams at me with pride, like he just earned his first paycheck in months.Bingo hall? Sheesh. Is that what Jimmy resorts to when he owes his bookie the juice?

Unfolding the paper, I see it’s a gift certificate to The Conch House.Hmmm…I’ve never heard of this place. It’s for a meal worth up to $50. “Rob, this is huge. Why would you give this to me if you and Jimmy could go?”

“Hell, Harlow, I couldn’t afford the gas to get to that place. I wouldn’t want to go there alone. And $50 in a place like that probably wouldn’t cover much if Jimmy and I both went.”

Maybe this could work. I glance at my watch. It’s still early enough for me to go home, get dolled up, and treat myself to a night out. I can’t remember the last time I did something just for me. “Thanks, Rob. For everything.” I lean back in, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while.”

He cups my cheek. “You deserve it far more than once in a while. I’m going to do better, Har. You watch.”

As I make my way back home, I should feel lighter. More optimistic about life after that impromptu conversation with my ex. But I’m so overcome with emotion, I can’t stop crying. Had I gotten my calendar wrong, and it was getting close to that time again? Because I feel hormonal.

But I know that isn’t it. When you work hard and try to do the right things, just to have someone you cared about treat you with such blatant disrespect, it does something to you. It wasn’t about him cheating. It was more than that. His words cut through me like a knife.

Fuck, I’d never actually date someone like her. She’s only good for one thing.

Even when you’re confident in yourself, hateful vitriol still hurts. Especially when you hear it from someone you thought cared for you.

An hour later, I’ve had a good cry, a hot shower, and I’m ready to treat myself. Rob’s right. I deserve better. It’s about time I start acting like it.

My eyes flick over the navigator app on my phone, and I grin as I see The Conch House is only a few feet ahead. This area is gorgeous. The restaurant is right on the water and appears to be a smaller establishment. Not some big, loud family buffet style with a blinking marque out front that you find in so many beachfront tourist destinations. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when I saw the gift certificate.

Parking the car, I step out and run my palms down the front of my dress. It’s a flowy, one-shouldered number. I’d purchased it as a bridesmaid’s dress several years ago. It isn’t overly formal. There’s a soft, sheer overlay that makes the garment appear delicate and feminine. I particularly like the contrast of the gossamer fabric against the ink on my arm. And the satin material beneath is a light shade of green that brings out the color of my eyes.

I’d stood in the bathroom, meticulously applying natural appearing makeup before stepping into the dress. Another Shania Twain song, “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” played on repeat in my head as I stared back into my mirror. Everything about this dress made me feel happier, and tonight was no exception.

“Good evening, Miss. How many?”

Why does this question always bother me? I know I’m being ridiculous. There’s no judgment from this man. He merely needs to know where to place me for dinner. But I always feel so defensive when I answer, “Just one.” I’m not “Just” anything.

“One, please.”

“Absolutely. Follow me.”

Clutching my purse, my eyes roam about the room. The place is breathtaking, but as I notice all the couples sharing an intimate evening together, I start to feel conspicuous. As much as I’d like to embrace strong, confident, hear me roar, Harlow tonight, I don’t know that I want to do it at a table for one. “Excuse me.” I tap the host on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Is there any chance I could dine at the bar?”

I’ve clearly caught him off guard. He looks stunned for a moment. “Why, of course. If that’s what you’d prefer.” By the looks of it, he was giving me a prime seat near the wide expanse of windows overlooking the Florida Bay. As beautiful as that might be some other evening, I’m afraid I’d sense all of the eyes in the place on me. Literally feeling I was in a fishbowl instead of relaxing to the unobstructive view of the waves crashing on shore. Everyone wondering if I’d been stood up or something.Ha, I’m sure normal people wouldn’t understand why I got all dressed up for a date with myself.

The bartender approaches with a menu as I adjust myself on one of the most comfortable barstools I’ve ever sat on. I could relax here with a cocktail for hours. “Can I bring you something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“Yes, can I have a glass of Pinot Grigio, please?” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a loon. How had my week turned into this?

“Hi, there.”

Spoke too soon.

My head snaps to my left, where an attractive man is sliding into the seat next to me. Leaning forward, I look past him to confirm there are six chairs on the other side which all remain vacant. It’s clear what his agenda is.

“Hi.”

Thankfully, the bartender returns with my wine, and I’m able to place my order before having to entertain any further chatter with this interloper.

“I hope I’m not intruding by sitting here.”

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