Page 33 of The Ruse of Romancing
“I’m not scared.”
“Maybe you should be because if I’m getting chased by a chainsaw wielding clown, you’re going down.” Nice, Dani. Impress the man with your willingness to sacrifice him to a horror movie monster.
“That is one very specific scenario. Do you spend much time pondering things that would motivate you to run? Most people keep initial conversations light with invitations to try the world’sbest chocolate-filled donut or something. You went straight for the darkest option: murder by creepy circus person.”
“Most people aren’t published authors who make their living imagining worst case scenarios to inflict upon their characters.” I wished that observation wasn’t so true but there was a reason Hercules was literally the biggest dog I could reasonably own while living in a townhouse. He was my protector when my imagination got the best of me and I became convinced weird sounds were intruders trying to kidnap me. Forget that Hercules was a bit of a chicken. Potential intruders didn’t know that.
Our conversation continued as we wandered a bit further before deciding it was time to turn back. I had a novel to write and a sister who would start texting me in a panic if I didn’t message her soon with another progress update. She really needed a hobby or a man or something other than work to distract her from her breakup with Sir Dunce Cap.
Also, I probably needed to break this entire exchange down for the cousins for their full analysis.
When we reached my car, Allen lingered. I hoped he was as hesitant to see our morning together end as I was. It was the best edited second interaction I’d ever had with a guy, and I was hoping he’d ask for my number so we could have a repeat in the near future.
“I don’t know about you, but I hate to the see the morning end,” he said, leaning in close enough I caught a whiff of lumberjack and bakery again, but this time mixed with a hint of the sea.
“Unfortunately, I do have to get back to my responsibilities. You know, I have a deadline,” I said, watching as his face fell at the pronouncement. “But,” I hurried to tack on, “I could be persuaded to delay being responsible for the right reason.”
Chapter 17
Mason
Iwasnotproudabout how my heart leapt at Dani’s statement, even as my mind scrambled to come up with something to entice her to continue our morning together. I was genuinely having a great time, and I hadn’t yet been able to broach my career, starting to hint at the possibility of designing her next cover or at least connecting with her publishing contacts to start my networking magic. I was extending our morning for professional reasons.
“Guess I better come up with something good then.” I pursed my lips, pondering.
“Obviously. I can’t put off writing for just any old excuse.”
I wondered if she knew how much I liked the way she looked with one hip cocked, gazing up at me with challenge and expectation. I wanted to reach over and tuck an escaped strand of hair back behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her skin.
I shook my head, reminding myself I had to focus. I was looking to connect with her for my career, nothing more. Yes, Iwanted to woo her, but more than that I needed to impress her with my artistic ability. I was looking to build a friendship.
Which only worked if I could spend more time with her. While I’d been relieved to find her at the beach, our walk had been too short to really dig into careers and cover designing. I needed to think of something to extend our time together. I racked my brain, trying to think of all the touristy things the women I’d interacted with over the years had raved about.
“Do you like... cheese?” As the question came out, I realized too late it was a movie reference, when I’d genuinely meant the question. I was terrible at trying to be friends with women. I was much better equipped for low stakes, low commitment, flirty exchanges.
She snorted, propping her chin on her hand as she responded. “Why yes, I do. My favorite’s gouda.” She dropped her hand. “Well, actually I prefer Swiss cheese, but gouda’s good too.”
I grinned, glad she knew the movie quote. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was a chick flick fan; they’d taught me some of my best moves with women.
“While I appreciate your ability to quoteShe’s the Man, I genuinely want to know if you like cheese. There’s a local dairy nearby that does factory tours and the connected restaurant makes the best grilled cheese in the country.”
She smacked my arm in excitement. “Seriously? Say less! I’m always down for good cheese. Let’s go!”
She turned to climb into her car but hesitated before turning back to me.
“I should probably drive myself over, seeing as this is only our second time meeting and these are modern times and safety is important.”
“All good points,” I said, curious to see where she was going with this line of conversation but also feeling disappointed at the thought of not riding in the same car with her. While the cheesefactory wasn’t far away, the added drive time would be ideal for shifting our conversation to career-related topics.
“But also,” she said, holding up a finger as if asking me to wait, “since we’re going to the factory together, it doesn’t make sense for us to drive separately. You know where we’re going and, really, we should conserve gas and,” she paused and took a deep breath before lowering her finger and turning the full force of her brown eyes on me, “I’d like to keep talking to you on the drive.”
If that wasn’t the greenest of greenlights, I didn’t know what was. My mind was already racing, thinking through questions to ask and how to lead the conversation to something more career oriented. Maybe I could learn a bit more about her cover artist search and how that worked with her publisher. I wanted to pull up my website, show her some of my art, but seeing as it was tied to my real name, Mason Stuart, I’d have to remember to download some of my designs to my phone so I could show her my style when the time was right.
“In that case,” I said, following her lead, “we probably should drive together. Would you be more comfortable driving with me giving directions or should I drive?” I’d prefer she drive so she wouldn’t see my car and then get suspicious if she ever saw it at the duplex, but more importantly, I needed her to be comfortable.
She visibly relaxed as I gave her the choice. She scrunched her face for a moment, thinking before responding.
“I’ll drive. That way if you do end up being a creep, I can just leave you at the cheese factory.” She said this so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t help but laugh.
