Page 77 of It's Not PMS, It's You
I was just going to ignore him.
I needed to focus on my date and not let Nick get to me.
Fortunately, he was completely quiet, which was a nice change of pace.
Too quiet, actually.
What was he up to?
Had he left?
Maybe I got lucky.
I pulled my compact from my purse and flipped it open, angling it to see behind me in the mirror. I jumped when I saw Nick grinning back at me.
I swung around. “Spying on me again?”
“Says the woman looking for me in her mirror. And what’s this guy’s deal with all his visits to the bathroom?”
“If you’re really that concerned, why don’t you go see for yourself?”
“My guess is an enlarged prostate, unless he’s in the early stages of pregnancy.” Nick snorted.
I crossed my arms. “What’s with all the snorting? You sound like a pig.”
“Your date was contemplating drinking tea out of a urinal. Who’s the pig here?” Nick jumped up and came around to sit in Edward’s seat. “And worst of all, he’s the biggest butt-kisser west of the Mississippi.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s planting seeds in your head to make your ego happy right before he moves in for the kill.”
“My ego? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am. I’ve seen guys like this before. He pretends that he cares about every word coming out of your mouth, in the hope that you’ll think he’s kind and a good listener. He tells you everything you want to hear about yourself, to give you this warm fuzzy feeling of being accomplished and loved. And then he’s going to try to get you into his bed.”
I had one of the best BS detectors and I didn’t believe it for a moment. “That is absurd. Have you ever thought that maybe he’s just a good person and is being sincere?”
“It’s not sincerity when the words used are for personal gain. You’re a go-getter, a take-charge kind of woman, you don’t mess around, you’re an eager-beaver.” He chuckled. “I bet he’ll ask you back to his place before lunch even ends.”
“You’re delirious. Can you go now?”
“Tell me what he does for a living and I’ll leave you alone.”
I kept my mouth shut.
“Ruth?”
“Fine, he owns the Bathroom Remodel Warehouse over on Miramar Road. Now go.”
“The big toilet-shaped glass building with all the palm trees around it?”
“The very one.”
He swung around back toward the bathroom and then glanced back at me. “That explains it. The guy is sick and twisted. He’s probably lying naked on the bathroom floor right now. Ten bucks says he goes back to the bathroom again before you leave.”
“No bet. Get back to your table before he sees you.”
“I’m going.” He closed his hand into a fist and raised it. “Be strong, you powerhouse go-getter.”
