Page 1 of Fight For Her
Chapter 1
Kendahl
Someonewiseoncetoldme that men were like drinks. It took a lot of sampling to find your favorite one and getting drunk was inevitable. Once you’d find a favorite, you could never count on it to taste the same again. The deluxe frozen cocktail complete with a cherry garnish speared on a cute umbrella would get watered down over time until eventually, it tasted like Kool-Aid with a shot of vodka thrown in.And sometimes when you least expected it, your favorite drink would disappear off the menu entirely.
Did I say it was a wise person? It was actually from the mind of my eccentric alcoholic mother.
It doesn’t change the fact that she was right. I’d done years of sampling in different locations and all I had to show for it was a hangover from hell.
So there I was, attempting to cure the mother of all hangovers with a little hair of the dog, otherwise known as a blind date. My left eye twitched again, which was an annoyance I tried to chalk up to too much caffeine rather than the stress induced reaction it was.Time moved entirely too slowly like some higher powered being calling the shots up in their cloud castle just had to show their sense of humor at that very moment.
Sitting across from me, my date was painstakingly telling me about his ex-wife for the third time that night. It had started as a casual name drop. By the time our drinks came, I knew everything but her blood type and social security number. Yes, I was exaggerating a teeny amount, but honestly, not that much.
He wasn’t a bad looking guy with his thick head of dark hair and chiseled jawline. His front teeth were a bit crooked and his brown eyes looked as though they were pulled toward his nose with an invisible string. They were only a few millimeters too close but enough that I noticed they were off.
When my mom’s friend, Sally, just had to set me up with her nephew, I should have done the logical thing and ran for the hills. But Sally was a better saleswoman than most, as she delivered her thesis with gusto on why her nephew, Billy, was the greatest man to have ever lived. By the end of the hour-long conversation, I agreed to one date despite my mother sitting at the table rolling her eyes at Sally and scoffing. My mother never believed in monogamy.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been somewhat eager to be asked out. The past few months had put me through the ringer emotionally, and I needed a night out, one night to help me feel alive, young, and free. But after everything I’d been through, I wasn’t into random guys from dating apps even with my newly acquired Krav Maga skills. So set ups from women in their fifties, with questionable dating habits themselves, was my best option.
Billy’s palm slithered between the breadbasket and our glasses of merlot, reminding me of a snake creeping toward its prey. My twitching eye followed its path straight to its intended target—my hand, which I inched closer to the edge of the white clothed table.
I wasn’t quick enough. He grasped my hand, covered it with both of his, and squeezed. Oh God, his palms were sweaty. This was way too much physical contact for me. Did unwanted hand holding warrant a knee strike? Maybe a light chokehold? I’d let those ideas simmer on the back burner.
Billy cleared his throat. “I can see us going the distance, Kendahl. After everything Sally told me about you, I was already smitten. I’ve been so lonely since my divorce.”
Smitten, what guy uses that word?
“I know I’m coming on strong.” He let out an awkward chuckle while I struggled to keep my grimace at bay. “But I really want to take things to the next level. What do you think?”
Was he talking about sex? No, thank you, was what I thought. I knew a stage five clinger when I saw one, and Billy was stage one hundred. One taste of intimacy and I’d need to leave the country to escape him. Even if I was interested in dating him, he was clearly still hung up on his wife.
Nope.
No matter how much I craved attention, Billy would not be that guy. I pried my hand away from his grip and took a tentative sip of wine. There had to be a way to let him down easy. As his hands slunk back to his lap, his eyes grew ten sizes. Mia used the same look on me all the time to get her way.They reminded me of the puppies I took care of at the animal shelter when I volunteered as a teen. Those stinkers always knew how to get me into their pen with treats and toys.
I forced my gaze onto the breadbasket, then my wineglass. Finally, I searched the area for our server.
Please, someone, anyone, come interrupt us.
When nobody came to my rescue, I steeled myself. “Listen, Billy … I think you’re a nice guy.” His wide eyes drooped like a cartoon hound-dog. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea.” Not anything serious with you, was what I really meant.
What the hell had Sally told him about me?
“It’s my looks, isn’t it? Why would I think a bombshell like you would be interested in me?” The hound-dog eyes searched my face while his shoulders sagged.
I coughed. “No, that’s not it. You’re a good-looking guy, Billy. Someone out there would be lucky to have you.”Someone who didn’t mind a guy who talked about his ex nonstop.
“I should probably get going, but thank you so much for dinner. This was really nice.” I forced my lips into a cheery grin. It probably came off as the type of smile you’d make when you pass someone on your way out of a public bathroom. You’re going one way and they’re going the other, so you kind of shimmy out of the way and smile politely. It was awkward and cringe all rolled into one.
“Well, I guess if this isn’t going anywhere, and I’m not even going to get laid, then you can pay your half of the check.” Billy grabbed his wineglass and downed the rest of its contents in one gulp and then signaled the server to bring the check with that obnoxious pen to paper gesture.
If I had liquid in my mouth, I would have spit it out across the room. Who was this guy? And what had he done with the Billy I sat across from for the past hour and a half?
I grabbed my purse and pushed up out of my chair. “Okay. Rude.”I dug out some cash and dropped it in the middle of the table before collecting myself. I wasn’t going to let him get the last word.
“That should cover my meal. And by the way, maybe if you led with wanting to get laid,” I leaned in, until my face was an inch from his and pushed my tits together, “and not cried about your ex the whole night, you could have had some fun with these. Goodbye, Billy.”
I turned on my heel and left, not waiting for a response. He needed some therapy, or a life coach, or advice that wasn’t from his aunt Sally.
