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“I don’t usually have that kind of effect on women. Shitty, I mean.”
I sputtered, then let loose a deep belly laugh. He started laughing too.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I was on an avoid run and wasn’t watching where I was going. Please forgive my stupid mouth,” I said.
“No, it’s fine. I really liked the ‘wow’ part. It was supremely impressive.”
“Not as impressive as you,” I said under my breath.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. But thanks for saving me from falling on my butt.”
“Now you owe me.”
“Huh?”
“You owe me. I waited for your call, but it never came. Now you owe me, and I’d like to collect in the form of a date.”
“No!” I said it so fast and forceful, he looked at me intently. I backpedaled. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Oh my God! My awful manners. What I should’ve said was I don’t date. That kind of repayment isn’t possible.”
“Why don’t you date?”
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t want to bore you.”
“You could never bore me, and I have all night long.”
I looked at him and he stood there in all his gorgeousness expecting me to give him an answer, which of course would never happen.
“I’m sorry but I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Well then, what do you propose? You owe me but you refuse to pay.”
He had me there. How do I get myself into these messes?
“How about this? I was on my way to have a drink at the Golden Nugget. Will you join me?”
“I’d like that very much.”
Off we went, he the lovely gentleman, and me the half-slut, a.k.a. prostitute, running from Fred-Barney.
Four
We got to the entrance of the Golden Nugget and the place was packed.
“Can I talk you into a different place? One where we can hear each other speak?” he asked.
This was not good. He’s far too perfect and me … I’m a hot mess and too scared to even think about this. I could just fall into those eyes though and melt. I’m gonna regret this, I just know it.
“Okay.” One word. Four letters. And my heart rate hit two hundred.
We headed around the corner to a different place. He put my hand in the crook of his arm and made me walk on the inside of the sidewalk. We arrived at a much more intimate bar called Mystic and he opened the door, ushering me inside. There was an empty booth in the back of the room and that’s where we headed.
The waitress was there in seconds, ready to make us less thirsty.
“What would you like, Alexia?” The rich timbre of his voice had me leaning toward him, wanting more.
Mystic didn’t look like a beer kind of place. Instead, I ordered a chardonnay.
