Page 69 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
“Alice! Yay! Are you here?”
I instinctively peeled my ear away, checking to make sure I hadn’t accidentally put her on speaker. I had not. She was just screaming.
“Listen, I can’t really hear you, but we’re the big group in the back. Right under the neon badger smoking the three-foot joint! I’m waving, can you see me? I can’t see you.”
Oh, good, she was already drunk.
“Hey, I’m almost there!” I said, raising my voice. “Just had a quick question for you—what’s his name? Your boss?”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“Your boss’s name,” I repeated, practically shouting into the speaker. “Is it Trevor?”
“Hold on just a sec.”
My fists tightened when Dom relaxed into his seat, looking aggravatingly satisfied with the unexpected turn of events.
The background chatter and music suddenly died. “Hey, sorry. Bathroom’s a lot quieter. Can you repeat what you were saying? Are you here yet?”
“Almost, just thought I’d call ahead and double-check something. Did you say your boss’s name was Trevor? I can’t remember.”
“What? No, nono, Trevor’s his dad. Super-sweet guy, but very old and very married.” I shot Dom ahah, see?look, but he still didn’t seem convinced. “Tristan is the one I’m setting you up with. Slightly less sweet, but much more age-appropriate, and a little…”
She paused just as a black Cadillac with fully tinted windows pulled into the spot in front of us.
“Um… severe-looking, you could say? But in a quiet, hot way. Like he’s always decked out in a tailored suit and looks a little angry all the time, but he’s just… I don’t know. Observant? Shy? It’s hard to describe.”
The door opened. A man stepped out.
He was wearing a dark, crisp suit, his salt-dusted beard trimmed to striking perfection. Without missing a beat, and as though he could feel the weight of my unabashedly curious stare, his eyes cut to mine.
He was really handsome. In an intimidating, stern daddy sort of way. I offered him a small smile. It wasn’t returned.
“He’s a little hard to get a read on and takes a while to warm up to people, but I really think you’ll like him,” Rachel continued.
The man adjusted his cufflinks, turned around, and strode into Underbite like he owned the place.
“Anyways, you’ll see what I mean in a bit. His last meeting ran late, but I think he’s almost here.”
I smiled. “Perfect, sounds great. See you in a bit.”
I hung up, slipped my phone into my bag, and plucked the lid off my lipstick.
“What are you doing?”
“That was him,” I said by way of explanation before yanking down the passenger mirror.
“Who was him?”
“The guy who just came out of the Cadillac. Suit. Beard. Tall.”
“The constipated-looking one?”
I didn’t dignify that with a response, too focused on freshening up my makeup.
“He’s barely younger than the dinosaur we were looking at.”
“He’s in his late thirties at most,” I argued in between lip pats. “Plus, I’m digging the salt-and-pepper beard. Maybe he’ll let me—no,make me—call him daddy.”
