Page 5 of Stood Up
“I had a date who decided to work late and not come. I was hungry, so I’m eating.” I make a point to grab my fork and take a bite of the chicken and pasta. With each chew, the small bit of embarrassment washes away leaving confidence in its place.
“Fool,” Mason decrees. “He’s a damn fool.”
I swallow, happy that his expression wasn’t humor. It would have been a damn shame. “Yeah, why’s that?” I’m not fishing for compliments here. I genuinely want to know what this man wants, besides fucking my brains out. He’s already made that clear.
“Every man in this room’s cock is rock hard because of you. Each one of them will be thinking of you while they're getting off tonight. Good thing for me, I won’t have to pretend because I’ll have the real thing.” Confident, cocky and arrogant—those are a heady combination, and he has them all down to a science. Damn it’s hot, and it’s what I lacked with my previous lovers, but can I?
“You really think I’m going to leave here with you. I don’t have a clue who you are.”
“You’ll know me alright. Every damn inch of me—you’ll know,” he rumbles, leaning into the table, his elbows resting on it. The collar of his light blue button-up shirt is undone, and I can see a hint of toned, tan skin there. That hidden treasure is a beacon for my libido, spinning it out of control and wondering what lays beneath. The mystery that is Mason Dean. Hell, even his name is sexy as hell.
My body urges to go wherever he wants to take me and feel good. Damn, it’s been way too long since I had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. I have no doubt this man knows how to use his cock. Just from his presence. His confidence. His authority. All of it. And if he doesn’t, it would be a damn disappointment, and I’d have to go get my gut checked for its validity.
The waitress walks past, and in an urge to do what’s right, I call, “Please bring me the check.”
“I’ve got this,” Mason says and instinctively, I reach for the hundred-dollar bill I have stashed in my purse in case of emergencies. I pull it out and hand it to the waitress. Now, if Drake hadn’t turned out to be such a douche, I would’ve let him pay for me. But I’m not on a date with Mason, and it’s a pride thing. I constitute this as a self-saving emergency.
“Keep the change.” Her eyes light up. Sure, I just wasted probably fifty bucks on a tip for her, but my pride and integrity are still in line. Exiting this situation is best before my body completely overrules me, which it’s so very close to doing, so I rise. “Nice to meet you,” I say just as I turn and almost run into a man halting at just the last second before we collide. “Excuse me.”
“Are you Aiden Porter?” he asks with a hopeful gleam in his expression as I take a step back out of his space. He’s a bit shorter than I am, but I’m in heels. He has very light brown hair that he uses way too much product on. It has to be hard as a rock, and the curious side of me wants to touch it and see. His suit is nice, but it looks crumpled and wrinkled as if he’s been working all day especially with the pretty large reddish purple stain on the collar. Worse, I don’t recognize him, but he knows my name.
“Yes, and you are?”
A wide smile crosses his face. “I’m Drake Hamilton. Your date.” My stomach drops. I’m sure this guy is nice. I know Lila’s right about his good job, but this guy isn’t even my type, not even close. I like them broody and mysterious. Confident. Knowing. This guy has none of that, similar to Greg.Maybe that’s why Lila set you up with him.I sigh inside. We’ve talked about my changes in perspective when it comes to men. That being said, I have no idea why she’d arrange a date with a guy like my ex.
“I’m so happy you’re still here. I had to work late and…” he trails off as I speak.
“Oh, you finally show up? Enjoy yourself, I’m just heading out.” The look of shock hits him as if I just slapped him across the face in front of his mother. This guy can’t actually think that I would sit around and wait for him. Umm. No. Been there, done that, not happening again. I crave a man who puts in effort for me and it’s not all one-sided on my part. Drake not even calling Brad is an automatic disqualification. He can’t be that dense.
Drake’s eyes go beyond me, and his back straightens. “Mr. Dean. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Confusion hits me at the thought of these two knowing each other. What are the odds of that?
“Meeting, and now I’m escorting Ms. Porter home.”
I suck in a sharp breath as Drake’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, you’re takingmydate home?” he asks incredulously, his gaze coming back sharply to me all the while pointing his finger at himself to accentuate his words. He does it in a way that he’s trying to stake a claim on me. What an asshole.
“No, he’s not, and you’re not my date. You stood me up and didn’t bother to tell Brad so he could tell me. Therefore, you struck out on the dating scene.”
He looks me up and down, but I feel nothing from his gaze. “Shit,” he grumbles.
“Shouldn’t have been late,” Mason says from behind me.
“I was doing what you told me to do!” Drake practically whines back. If he would have stomped his foot, I would have mistaken him for a toddler not getting his way with a certain toy he wanted. Whining on a man is never a turn on for women; all men need to take notice of this. But his words do register. Mason told him to work. I crane my neck behind me.
Mason shrugs. “I’m his boss.”
Turning back to Drake, I’m not sure what to think. Mason is Drake’s boss and probably Brad’s boss as well. Mason had him work late. Is there something more to this that I need to know? My job is solving problems in companies and putting them back together again. I need to ask Mason a few questions it seems so I can get to the bottom of this one. But that won’t happen. I’m getting out of here and away from all of this debacle.
“I’m leaving,” I tell both men as I feel eyes on me around the restaurant again. This time, though, it’s not limited to the men. Instead—it’s everyone—waiters included. I hope they enjoyed their dinner and a show. Whatever, life is life and this happens to be mine.Yeah me!
Drake grips my arm as I walk past him, rather forcefully stopping me from moving. “Look, I’m sorry okay, let’s redo this.” There’s a hint behind his eyes that screams trouble and not the kind that I got from Mason. It’s definitely time to abort this date because the kind of trouble I’m reading is the exact same that I should have seen in Greg. The taker. That’s what Drake is. No way am I having anything to do with him.
“Let go,” I say with every bit of authority and try to pull my arm from him, but he tightens it. I feel the throb in my fingertips as he hits a delicate spot.Asshole!
“Get your fucking hands off of her.” Mason doesn’t wait for Drake to comply, instead, he reaches out with this hand and cups the man’s elbow. I think Mason squeezes it because his knuckles turn white, and my arm is instantly released. Rubbing my elbow trying to remove the sting, Drake’s face turns into a combination of pain and anger.
This night is fucked up, and I need away from this madness. Not looking back at either of them, I dart from the restaurant. Air and escape—that’s what’s on the menu.
