Page 23 of Relationship Goals

There’s no valet.

He’s right, this place isn’t fancy, or LA at all, and it makes this feel…real. Like he did want to get to know me, and he meant what he said about me being gorgeous, and he actually wants to help me learn more about soccer and the IFF.

I smile to myself, feeling pleased and warm all over.

He didn’t have to dress up for this restaurant or the LA scene. He dressed up for me.

I like that. I like that a lot.

Chapter Five

Luke

Abigail Hunt ischaos in an adorable strawberry-blond package. The spray of freckles across her nose captivates me, and I don’t know how I missed them this afternoon. She’s barely stopped talking since I met her at her door, and her stream-of-consciousness chatter is both unexpected and hilarious.

I can’t say I’ve ever had a first date accuse me of jerking off to the sounds of the cello.

Then again, I’ve never asked a woman out because the owners of my team wanted to sell more tickets.

I sneak a look at Abigail, though only the top of her head shows past the menu she’s staring at. For a moment on the way here, I thought she was trying to tamp down an anxiety attack, and I was ready to step in just like I used to with my sister when we were younger.

But she pulled it together.

The table jostles rhythmically, and a surreptitious glance tells me she’s still shaking her leg, ceaselessly.

For all that she radiates sunshine from her pores, Abigail Hunt is definitely anxious.

I don’t like that.

I don’t want her to be anxious around me.

Fuck.

Ishouldwant her to be anxious around me, I should want her to dislike me intensely, just like the rest of this stupid city, so I can throw in the towel on this farce with her.

But for all her weirdness, she’s sweet. Genuine.

And I don’t know the last time I could say that about anyone.

“I can’t decide what to get.” Her mismatched eyes are narrowed in concentration.

“Buonasera, Mr. Wolfe.” The owner, Mateo, sweeps in front of our table, a delighted expression on his face. “And who is this bellissima signorina? You have never brought anyone here with you before.”

“Hi.” Abigail grins at him. “Does Luke come here a lot, then? By himself?”

“Oh, yes, he’s here at least once a week. Never brought anyone, much less a woman like yourself.”

He beams at her, and I loose a resigned sigh. Mateo loves to talk. Abigail loves to talk.

I might as well just leave and let the two of them yap at each other.

“Oh, is that right? Does he often listen to cello music while he dines?”

“Pervert,” I tell her, an incredulous chuckle making its way out of my mouth.

Mateo shoots me a confused look, and Abigail lets out a little laugh.

“No, but if you would like me to put some on to set the mood, signorina, I will.”

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