Page 34 of The Wingman

His eyes flash with something at those words, but I barrel on.

“But imagine having to do thisevery year?” I make a face. “Flowers, making the dinner reservation, buying gifts? It’s a lot.”

His gaze is full of an emotion I can’t place. “Like I said, it doesn’t sound so bad.”

I chuckle. “I think this is a ‘the grass is always greener’ kind of situation. It’s totally okay if you’re not cut out for monogamy like that. Not everyone is. With your way, no one gets hurt, no one gets disappointed.”

He clears his throat and his eyebrows bob once. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Something in his expression gives me pause, though. A quiet vulnerability.

“I’d be doing the women of the world a disservice by taking myself out of the game.” His cocky grin is back, but there’s a bitter edge to his words.

I don’t like the way he says this. My eyes narrow. I’m learning to be a player because Hayden has the perfect life, but now I wonder if I was wrong.

I wonder if Hayden’s as happy as he seems.

“Or you’d make one woman really, really happy,” I blurt out, because I don’t like him talking about himself like this.

He laughs, but there’s a humorless sharpness to it, like he doesn’t believe me.

“Anyway.” He leans forward and glances around the restaurant before his eyes meet mine. “I’ve never brought a date here. I called the owner first thing this morning and begged for a reservation. I told her I wanted to bring a beautiful girl here so she could eat the best food in the city. We do team dinners here sometimes, so she was happy to help me out.”

Our eyes hold, and my throat tightens.Beautiful, he said. The word flits around my head like a butterfly.

His eyes skim over the drink menu. “You like merlot, right?” He frowns in concentration, thinking. “We should probably get a bottle.”

I nod, giving him a strange smile. The server appears, and Hayden orders with a familiarity that surprises me. The guy I know from university drinks whatever beer is on tap.

“Do you want anything else to drink?” he asks me, and I shake my head, at a loss for words.

The server dashes off, and he gives me a funny smile as I sit there, staring at him.

“Something you want to say?” he prompts, smiling wider.

“You order wine like an expert. I’ve never seen you drink wine.”

“Sure, you have.”

“No, I haven’t.” I’m wearing a goofy smile. He’s better at this dating thing than I realized. I don’t know why he was so nervous tonight. “I’ve seen you do a two-story beer bong on one knee. You made five hundred Jell-O shots for a party you were hosting. And you always order beer when we go out.”

“Darcy, don’t be ridiculous.” His expression turns serious. “I already checked, and they don’t have Jell-O shots here.”

I burst out laughing, and a pleased grin cracks across his handsome features, like he loves to make me laugh.

“And maybe you don’t know everything about me,” he adds.

My pulse trips. Living together, I’ve lost count of the things I never took notice of with him—how tidy he is, how he takes his elderly neighbor’s recycling out, how he’s happy to take a photo or sign something for anyone who stops him on the street.

“Maybe I don’t.”

He knows how to order wine at a nice restaurant because he’s well-practiced at wining and dining women, I realize with a pinch behind my ribs. Maybe he’s not datingright now, but soon, he’ll be back to normal. Bringing girls home. Sleeping with them on the other side of the wall.

Things I should be learning to do. I pull my mind back to the present. I’m not going to think about the future; I need to focus on why we’re here—so I can practice.

“So, if you were on a date right now,” I ask, “what would you talk about?”

He shrugs. “Just regular things.”

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