Page 35 of The Hard Hitter

I shake my head, wishing he couldn’t read me so well. “My mother called when I was on my way here. She reminded me about the big family Fourth of July BBQ.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“I do, I just don’t want to be interrogated. Apparently, it’s unheard of for a woman my age to be single.”

He chuckles. “Your age?”

“Right? My parents are old fashioned. They were later in life having me, and think that if you’re not married by twenty-seven, you’re a spinster.”

“Spinster?”

“You know, an older, unmarried woman.”

“I know what a spinster is, but I hardly think it’s fair for anyone to put that label, or any label, on you.”

“Well, we both know life isn’t fair.” I set my fork down and take a sip of wine. “And Caleb is going to be there,” I say, almost under my breath.

Zander sits up a bit straighter, and I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw. “Who’s Caleb?”

“He’s my mother’s best friend’s nephew.” I leave out the part about him being a mortician. “They’ve been trying to set us up since my broken engagement.”

“Your ex left you because you weren’t compatible in bed,” he says, a statement, not a question.

I look down at my plate. “I blurted out that I wanted it rough…and he belittled me, embarrassed me. He said a nice girl like me sh

ouldn’t want that, and there must be something wrong with me.” I swallow the lump in my throat, and look away, but he reaches across the table and touches my chin, bringing my gaze back around to his.

“There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. If he had trouble giving you what you wanted in bed, then that’s on him, not you. You didn’t ruin the relationship, he did. But I have to say, I’m glad he did. Because he wasn’t good enough for you.”

My heart crashes harder in my chest. “Thank you,” I say.

“I think being called a spinster is preferable to having a douche bag like that by your side during a family event.”

“You’re right. I was actually thinking…” I let my words fall off. Don’t go there, Sam. Don’t ask him. That’s not what this is about.

“Thinking what?”

“Just…about bringing someone, to shut them up.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well no, not really. But can you imagine their faces if I brought you? My father is a huge hockey fan. That would get them off my back for sure.”

“Are you asking me to go, Sam?”

The food in my stomach bounces as I meet his intense gaze. My brains races for an answer. If I say yes, will he end this now, tell me I’m taking things in a direction he’s not willing to go? Or will he agree, and simply see it as helping a girl out?

“I…maybe.”

“Yes or no?”

I gulp. “Zander, I—”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” I blurt out.

And he leans back in his chair, putting a measure of distance between us.

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