Page 11 of Love Out Loud

The downside was the constant pressure of feeling like he was auditioning or being judged when out in social situations, even on dates. It got old. Maybe that’s the reason he’d fallen so hard for Charise. They were both speech coaches, so they could drop all the bullshit when they were together and had downtime.

He supposed if he had an office job, or one where he did nothing but analyze stocks and investments, like Marcus, he’d be ready for a night out on the town.

He checked his phone again.

“Dude. You’ve got it bad,” Marcus said.

Yeah. Evidently, he did.

“Why don’t you just call her?”

“Because it’s bad form professionally.”

“I’m not talking about calling her as a speech coach, dumbass. I’m talking about calling her as a man.”

Jake held up a hand. “Can’t date clients.”

“That’s a stupid rule.”

“Company policy.”

“But you can date coworkers like Charise?”

“No,” Jake said. “They made a rule against that, too, after we broke up. It’s called the Jake’s a Jackass Rule.”

“Ridiculous,” Marcus grumbled into his beer.

The crowd on TV cheered as a player hit a foul ball.

Jake’s heart stammered when his phone dinged.

Fiona:Corner of 12thAve and 52ndSt tomorrow morning 10:00

“Dude,” Marcus said. “You’ve gotta do something about this. You’re grinning like a fool.”

He was—both grinning and a fool. He’d been worried she’d back out, but she really meant to go through with it—whateveritwas. He responded immediately.

Jake:Do I need to bring or wear anything special?

Fiona:Bring an apology and wear your big-boy pants.

He barked a laugh. Claire Anderson had been right—Fiona was funny. An image of her flushing red when he held up the idiotic penis-shaped dog toy made him laugh again. He decided to play along with her teasing mood.

Jake:Are you bringing Sir Squashalot?

He held his breath as he waited for her reply, wondering if he’d gone too far. Fortunately, her answer was almost immediate.

Fiona:Nah. He’s kind of a dick.

This time, he gave a full-on belly laugh. He hadn’t expected that at all from a woman who was so shy she talked to tourists through her dogs.

“Seriously,” Marcus said. “Call her.”

“Business only,” Jake muttered, more to himself than his friend.

The crowd on the TV went wild when a player slid in for a home run.

His grin widened as he relaxed back on the sofa, thinking about the pretty, funny, smart Dr. Fiona Nichol and contemplating a home run of a different kind entirely.

It was going to be a really long two months.

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