Page 62 of The Bluffing Game

“Fine, I’m fifty-five, but I’m a young fifty-five. I’ve been told that I don’t look a day over twenty-five.” He grins and flexes his muscles. “Don’t blame me because I look like Chris Hemsworth’s younger and better-looking brother.”

“I hate to break this to you, but whoever said that to you lied.”

He sits back and starts laughing. I’m surprised at that. I thought he would be offended.

“I like me an honest gal,” he says, grinning. “And you seem to be one of the most honest I’ve ever met on this app.”

“Really?” I say.

My phone beeps, and I look down at the screen. I got a message from Bradley on the app. I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to read it, but I can’t stop myself from opening it up.

His message reads: Having fun on your date yet, or thinking about me?

I can’t help but smile and quickly close the phone.

“So, what would you like to eat?” Chad points at the menu. “I know you said you love some Mexican food. Maybe on our next date, I’ll fly you to Cancun, if you’re lucky.”

As I look down at the menu, my stomach growls. I know this date is going nowhere, but I don’t know if he knows this date is going nowhere, and I’m hungry—really, really hungry. And even though I’m super disappointed that this is my first date, I’m also practical. If I’m here, I might as well get something to eat.

“I think I might get the fajitas or maybe the cheese enchiladas.”

“Cheese. I know cheese will have you bloated.”

“What?”

“Are you sure you want that before we go back to my place?”

“Chad, I want to be really clear about something, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I won’t be going back to your place, and I don’t think we’ll be going on a second date, and you can do with that what you will. If you don’t want to continue this date, you don’t have to. I don’t want you to pay for my meal when I know this is going nowhere. I just wanted to be really clear with you about that.”

“What if I can change your mind?” he says, eyes twinkling.

He reaches down into his pocket and pulls out a black leather wallet. I see that it’s stuffed with cash. He pulls out a stack of hundred-dollar bills and puts it on the table.

“I’m rich, you know?”

“Okay.” I stare at him and shrug. “Good for you.”

“Look, I’m really rich.”

“I know that might impress a lot of women, and maybe at some point in my life, I was one of them, but you lied to me. You used a false photo. You lied about your age. And as much as I am looking for a rich man, which I am”—I can’t believe I am admitting that to him—“I’m not looking for a rich man I can’t find some sort of connection with.”

“So, let me buy you dinner. Let’s see if we can make a connection.”

“I just …” I sigh as my phone beeps again. I look down. Bradley sent me another message. I decide to ignore it. “Chad, I just want you to know I am …” I pause because I have this strange feeling someone is staring at me. I can’t shake the feeling, so I look around the restaurant, wondering if Lucia or Izzy is here. I don’t see anyone I know, so I turn back to Chad. I’m about to continue talking, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that someone is looking at me. I look back around the restaurant again, and there, at the bar, I see Dalton. He’s got a drink in his hand.

He nods at me and offers me a smirk. Then he mouths, Good luck.

What are the chances that Dalton Leone would be at the restaurant at the same time I’m on a date? Just my bad luck, especially with Chad looking like such an old man. I don’t want Dalton to think I have no standards. He doesn’t know that Chad lied about his profile picture. He might be sitting there, thinking that I’m on a date with someone who looks like he is in his early seventies just because he has money.

“Would you excuse me a second?” I say to Chad, who is sipping his water slowly.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” I stand up, and I hurry over to the bar.

“I need to talk to you,” I growl at Dalton as I head toward the side of the room.

He stands up and follows me. We walk down a small corridor, and then I stop.