Page 61 of Never Date A Player
“There’s another place that’ll be better for our first date.”
I look at him skeptically. “Really?”
“No.” He grins and opens the Jeep. “But it will be more comfortable.”
“You don’t have to do this.” I hold the door he’s trying to close.
He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips. “I want to make you happy.” A warm sensation fills my chest. “I’m no good at dating.” He gestures over his shoulder to the restaurant. “I heard this place was nice, but I don’t care where we go as long as you’re with me.”
Wow, that was… pretty perfect.
He shuts the door and I wonder how deep I’m getting myself, and if that’s wise. And what exactly did he mean when he said he wasn’t good at dating? He’s only had the one girlfriend, but I figured he went out.
A few months ago I would have shied away from prying questions, but now I need to know. With Lewis, I want to know everything. We drive for a bit before I bring it up. “Why do you think you’re not good at dating?”
Lewis shrugs as we pass the state line into Nevada. “I don’t take women out.”
Yeah, about that. Maybe this will explain more of the Mira issue. “Why?”
“Part of the reason is—” He clears his throat, his gaze flickering to me. “I never needed to. You know, date. To be able to spend time with women.”
“So how did you… Ohhh.” Of course he didn’t. He’s a rugged mountain god. Women throw themselves at him. Jesus, like I did. “You went home with women, not out with them.”
He squeezes the back of his neck. “I told you I had a girlfriend in college,” he says as if to lighten the fact. “The last couple of years I haven’t had a strong enough connection with anyone, and I, well, have obligations.”
Is Mira one of his obligations? His only obligation? I can’t think of anything that would prevent a guy from getting close to women for such a long period of time. Only, that’s what I’ve done, isn’t it? Kept my distance? I’ve had relationships, but I have never let guys know me until Lewis, and only then because he’s seen things I didn’t intend him to.
“You’re not attracted to women anymore?” I tease to lighten the mood. If we’re both new to this, how will we know what to do? Will his obligations allow whatever this is?
He glances over with a sardonic smile. “You know that’s not true.” He lifts his eyebrow and I blush. He grins, as if pleased by my reaction, and returns his attention to the road.
“Okay, so you’re attracted to women. Most guys I know usually like to do something with that.”
He gives me a sidelong glance with a crooked smile.
“Right,” I say. “You’ve done things. Hookups.”
I hate thinking of him with other women. What if that’s all we’re doing, hooking up? He’s taking me out on a date, which by his definition is rare, but what if I’m still assuming too much, like I did with the A-hole when I didn’t question his frequent trips to his hometown? What if I want more than Lewis does? My heart echoes in my ears and my breathing increases?—
“Gen.” Lewis grabs my wrist and frowns. He shifts between looking at the road and watching me with a worried look on his face. “I said I don’t date. That’s why I’m telling you this. You’re not like anyone else. You make me”—he huffs out a sigh, the end of it fizzling on a groan—“kind of crazy, actually. I want—I just…” He looks at me pleadingly. “Want.”
Chapter Twenty
Lewis pulls into what can only be described as a dive bar. One that may or may not serve food, depending on your definition of food. There’s an image of a trout next to the sign. I’m not sure if that’s part of Rotten Roy’s logo, or an indication of the cuisine available.
Inside, we are by far the best-dressed people in the place. In fact, I could have worn flip-flops and fit in at Rotten Roy’s. Neon beer signs decorate the walls. The pink pig over the pool table holding a stick with Nice Rack written on it is my favorite.
Lewis guides me to a table in the back. A cackle of male laughter punctuated by a bout of hacking, as if the person overcome with humor is also a heavy smoker, accentuates the white noise of glasses thunking on worn wooden tables and conversation. Despite the ruckus, all eyes are on us as we pass.
Normally, I avoid this kind of attention, but there’s no avoiding it around Lewis. How can people not stare? Even dudes check him out, likely for different reasons than women, but still.
“It’s a little rough in here, but the food’s decent.” Lewis hands me a laminated menu, sticky and curling at the corners. “The guys from work and I come here often.”
Rotten Roy’s seems the type of place to serve low-grade diner fare, but I don’t question his taste. Who doesn’t want greasy food now and then? I scan the menu and order nachos when the waitress arrives.
Time to throw him one of his own questions. “What’s your family like?” Payback is only fair.
He shrugs. “I told you a little about my mom, and you’ve met my dad.”
