Page 14 of Daring to Love You
She had learned a lot about him tonight. One: he was an only child used to getting anything he wanted—according to him. Two: He was looking forward to being invited to her house so she could cook for him. Because her mother suggested it, saying “Dorian is the best cook in the country. Get her to cook for you.” And three: Glen was competitive and an awful winner.
“I’ve beat you four games, babe. Maybe we should stop now before I embarrass you too much,” he said with a laugh. Then he reached for her cue stick and hung hers and his back in the rack against the wall.
“I’m not embarrassed at all. I told you when we started I didn’t play often. You beat a rookie. Must make you feel real good.”
She grabbed her purse from under the table and strolled to where he stood. Between the music, the talking and bursts of laughter from other patrons, it was hard to hear in the small building.
“I asked you to give me some pointers, but you acted like if you did, I might turn around and beat you.”
He moved closer, looking at her with a frown. “I didn’t think that at all. There’s no way you would’ve beat me, and I did give you pointers.”
He had, reluctantly, as if her asking was a bother. He’d suggested she hold the stick differently, and there were a few times when he’d explained how to hit a particular shot. All that was during the first game, and it helped. But when she started making more shots by herself, he stopped helping.
Dorian just chalked it up to him wanting to focus on his own game. Shooting pool with him was supposed to be fun, but he had turned it into a competition. Which was fine, but it did take some of the fun out of the evening.
Earlier, they’d gone to an Italian restaurant and dinner had been delicious and conversation flowed easily between them. Which was when she learned more about his mother and father who had him late in life. He also talked about how much he loved his job, and it was refreshing to hear someone speak highly of their place of employment.
Everything was going great until Glen brought up her mother and told her about a conversation the two of them had. According to him, Virginia said she was determined to find Dorian a husband. Claimed she had vetted a few men already, but Glen was perfect for her baby girl. That had been only part of the conversation. By the time he was done telling her all that her mother had shared, Dorian was ready to strangle the woman who had birthed her.
Talk about embarrassing. She wasn’t sure if everything Glen said was true, but enough of it sounded like Virginia that Dorian believed him. She was more determined than ever to keep her mother out of her love life. Assuming she ever talked to her again.
Unfortunately for Glen, this only added to the short list of reasons why Dorian wouldn’t be going out with him again. He was too friendly with her mom, and it would be weird dating him knowing they talked about her.
If that weren’t enough of a reason to make this the last date, her decision had been solidified once they arrived at the pool hall. It was as if Glen had turned into a different person.
Dorian wasn’t sure if he had been showboating for someone in particular or just being a jerk while they played. The way he loudly celebrated himself after each shot he made had been a bit over the top.
Then, whenevershemissed a shot, he made a big show of it by saying stuff like, “Aww, babe, you’ll get it next time.” Or “Not bad for a beginner.” And there was the time he wrapped her in a hug, kissed the side of her forehead, and told her, “With more practice, you might get as good as me someday.”
“Dorian, are you listening to me?” He touched her arm, and her gaze snapped to his.
“Oh, sorry.” She leaned a hip against the pool table. “What did you say?”
“I did try helping you with a few shots during our first game. But you got all weird when I put my hands on you or my arms around you.”
“Oh, you mean when you were trying to grind against my ass,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool. “Because I don’t see how that was supposed to help me.”
Glen shrugged. “What can I say? You have a nice ass.” He cracked a smile and nudged her playfully. “But seriously, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I like you, and I like being with you. Since we were on a date, I figured I’d try to get a little more up close and personal.”
Yeah, she knew what he meant. They were on their third date, and if she’d been into him like that, a touch, a hug, andeven some kissing would’ve been accepted. Except she wasn’t feeling him like that. She was okay with a little touch here and there, but not when he invaded her personal space the way he had.
“Also, I know I’ve been an ass since we got here. I can get a little competitive when it comes to pool or any sport for that matter. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. How about we get out of here and go next door for some ice cream?”
Dorian nodded. Maybe she was making a big deal over nothing. It’s not like they were destined to be together. After tonight, she might never see him again, except when he dropped off packages at the B&B. And even then, there was a slim chance because he usually delivered to their location in the middle of the day when she wasn’t there. So, she might as well try to enjoy the rest of the evening.
An hour later, after some of the best ice cream she’d ever had, they were heading back to the B&B. It was almost eleven o’clock, and Dorian couldn’t wait to climb into bed. It had been a long, exhausting day, and now she wished she’d had Glen pick her up from home. Then she could get to bed quicker. Instead, she had to go back to the B&B to pick up her truck.
Rap music boomed through the speakers of the small sports car, and Dorian tried to recall who the artist was. She liked music as well as the next person, but the rapper’s words were so mumbled, she couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but at least the song had a nice beat.
As Glen bobbed his head to the music, he maneuvered his car in and out of the busy traffic as if he was part of Formula 1, racing along the Circuit de Monaco through the streets of Monte Carlo. Dorian appreciated him being a skilled driver, but he was driving too fast for her comfort.
While heading to the restaurant earlier, she had asked him to slow down, and he had. But she shouldn’t have to ask him everytime he got behind the wheel of the car. Yes, he’d driven faster than needed during their other two dates, but tonight was worse.
Dorian gripped the door handle with one hand and the center console with the other. Not only was she holding on for dear life, but she was pressing her feet to the floor as if she was able to control the brake and gas petals.
She took the liberty of turning the volume on the radio down before saying, “Glen, please slow down. You’re making me nervous the way you’re driving fast and weaving in and out of traffic.”
“Relax, baby. Loosen up, I got you,” he said, his speed remaining the same.
