Page 30 of The Boyfriend List
“Amen,” Gloria says, lifting her ice cream in a mock toast.
“Well, I have to get going, but Gloria, let’s catch up sometime!”
“Yes, let’s get coffee. I’ll text you!” Gloria says as Sasha walks toward a table with an older woman who looks like her mother.
As we finish our ice cream, I can’t help but wish that I had been the one to take her on a date instead. That Sasha’s assumption about us was correct.
But of course, I can’t.
While I drive her to her car, which is parked at a cafe near her apartment, I gather up the courage to ask her. “Do you want to help me babysit my nieces this Saturday? I’m taking them to their horseback riding lessons.”
Gloria tilts her head to one side. “I’ve never met them before. Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? Does your brother even trust me to watch them?”
“You’d be with me. And it’s not like we’ll be doing any heavy lifting—they have an instructor, so they just need someone to supervise and bring them to and from. Brooklyn and his wife had their wedding anniversary last week, so I think they’d still appreciate some alone time away from their kids.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you to do that for them.” Gloria puts her hand on my forearm as we stop in front of my car. “Sure, I’d love to do that. I’ve never been horseback riding. Wait, haveyoubeen horseback riding?”
“Once or twice,” I say.
“Is this the part where you tell me that on the weekends, you wear flannel shirts and steal big city girls from their high-powered, financial executive fiancés?”
When I stare blankly back at her, she continues. “You know, like a cheesy movie. He’s the lumberjack who owns a struggling Christmas tree farm and she’s a marketing genius who’s in town to help her ailing grandmother…”
“I am definitely not a lumberjack who owns a Christmas tree farm, but if I did, it wouldn’t be struggling.”
She laughs. “Oh, because you’re so great at Christmas tree farming and you have lumberjack muscles?”
As if to illustrate her point, her hand moves up my forearm and squeezes my bicep. I swear her breath hitches as she does so.
“Maybe I do. Are you volunteering to come watch me chop wood?”
Her laugh is more strained this time and she drops her hand from me like she’s been burned. Maybe I’m imagining things. She probably thinks I’m weird. “I think we can start with the horseback riding and work our way up to wood chopping. You know, after I try axe-throwing.”
We get into my car and I take her back to hers. As I watch her get into her vehicle and drive away, I wish this hadn’t been the end of her date with some other guy. I wish it had been been the end ofours.
Chapter Eleven: Gloria
Iappear at London’s front door at seven am on Saturday. Too wired to sleep in, I got up at five, went for a run, made breakfast, worked on a case for a bit, then drove to his apartment so we could carpool to pick up his nieces.
He doesn’t answer my knock. I get that I’m early, but I figured he would be awake by now—
The door flies open and a bleary-eyed London appears at the door, yawning. “Come in.”
I blink, needing to distract myself from the fact that I’ve never seen him dressed so…casually.
He’s shirtless, in a pair of dangerously low-slung joggers.
I still regret squeezing his bicep on Monday after we got ice cream! I can’t handle seeing him shirtless!
London definitely has enough muscles to be a lumberjack on a Christmas tree farm. I take back everything I said. I would definitely move onto his Christmas tree farm and ditch the big city business fiancé that I don’t have for him. All of his muscles are in full display as he leans over to grab a hoodie on the couch and pulls it over his head.
He has back muscles that flex as he tugs the hoodie on. Like they’re taunting me with a glimpse before disappearing under soft terrycloth.
“Good morning,” London says. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
If I have coffee, my heart will explode. I think the image of him shirtless was enough to keep me awake for the next thirty-six hours.
“Do you have instant milk tea?” I ask hopefully. He doesn’t drink it—I mean, I assume he doesn’t, since it’s full of sugar and I now have incontrovertible proof that he has a six pack—but I like it.
