Page 10 of The Problem with Dating
“Uh, maybe once the work is completed, and my house is put to rights, you can come visit and see the final results for yourself?” I suggested, and then immediately regretted the suggestion. I couldn’t be friends with Louise if she were harboring any hope that me and Gideon could become anything more than enemies.
Crap.
“Or not, it’s-”
“Oh, I’d love to,” she happily replied, the disappointed tone gone. “I could even bring Gideon with me just to make sure the work is satisfactory.”
Yep, it was official.
Me and Louise Hayes could no longer be friends.
I didn’t possess the acting skills it would take to pretend to like her son, and I really didn’t want to murder her son in front of her because he’d be sure to say more stupid shit to me.
And never mind his cavemanish ways, no matter how sexy I thought alphas were. But when he’d gotten pissed that I had dared try to pay for his dinner, I couldn’t lie and say that hadn’t been hot. Of course, his assholishness had outweighed the sexiness, but still.
I didn’t mind aggressive. I didn’t mind manly. I didn’t mind strong, serious, or forceful. As long as none of it crossed over to a fist to my face, I didn’t mind a man being a man.
Chapter 6
Gideon~
Ishouldn’t be this upset.
It had been a natural assumption.
The time, the day, the place, the woman…all of it had led to the natural assumption that Mom had set me up on another blind date because the woman was always trying to set me up with women. And things had gotten worse since Nate and Sayer had gotten married. Sayer was the hero and Nathan was the star, and I was pretty sure Mom thought I was going to die a lonely old man because I wasn’t anyone’s hero, and I didn’t shine like a star for the masses. I was the serious one, and there was nothing wrong with that, no matter how many times I’ve told her that.
As for women, I’ve dated my fair share, but there’s always been this cloud of doubt that hung over my dating life. It had been that way for Sayer, too, before he met Monroe. I loved Nathan more than my own life. I’d die for my brothers and our families, but being the brother to Nathan Hayes, professional baseball star, I always had to wonder if a woman liked me for me or if she was interested because she’d hope to get some fame or riches out of it.
And I’ve gone through all the scenarios already. I’ve had women who pretended not to know who Nate was, and I’ve had women who came right out and ask me if they could meet him before our first date was even over. I’ve had women who’ve tried to play it cool, like Nate’s notoriety didn’t matter, but it was easy to see through that shit.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t such a self-righteous boy scout that I hadn’t used some of those women to get my dick wet, but that’s all there’d been. A night of sex and no autographs afterwards.
“Gideon, those contracts for Pageant-”
“Your wife is driving me insane,” I blurted out, interrupting the poor unsuspecting man.
My father stopped mid-step in the middle of my office and just stared at me. Looking at the man, it was plain as day that he was running all possible scenarios in his head where his wife was concerned.
After a few seconds, he resumed his steps until he was seated in one of the chairs right across from my desk. It was Saturday morning, and while we usually didn’t work weekends, we were working a half day today because Grant had a doctor’s appointment on Monday and the entire family was going to it. Grant had interstitial lung disease and was having a procedure done to make sure his lungs were still damage-free. There was no way any of us were going to miss that.
“What’d I miss?” he finally asked.
“Do you know anything about helping someone estimate possible water damage on a new home they recently purchased?”
His brows shot up, and it was uncanny how much we all looked like him. If anyone wanted to know what Sayer, Nate, and I were going to look like twenty years from now, all they had to do was look at our father.
“She came home the other day and said she met a nice girl who was looking for a contractor who wouldn’t rob her blind,” he said. “She told me she was going to ask you if you could help the young woman.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t much help,” I grumbled, guilt being something that I didn’t feel often.
“What happened?” he asked, and so, I told him.
When I was finished reciting what an asshole I’d been, my father put no effort into hiding his wince. “Christ,” he rushed out. “What did you do with the money?”
My head reared back. “What do you think? I left it for the fucking waiter,” I told him. “No fucking way was I going to eat dinner on her dime. On any woman’s dime.”
Dad nodded, reassured with that answer. “Yeah,” he muttered. “We can’t have that shit happening.” I almost grinned at that.
