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“Nope. No woman.”
She hadn’t heard any of his sexy adventures in his backyard for some time. He always found a reason to visit her, and they’d sit for hours, chatting, laughing. He’d even helped her maintain her vegetable patch.
He found a parking space near the restaurant, and they walked together. She wore a modest heel, and a really tight dress that showed off her curves. This had been a luxury purchase that Jessica convinced her to buy.
Once inside, she told the maître d’ that she was waiting for someone, and it turned out Greg was already there.
“I’ll be at the bar,” he said.
The maître d’ took the lead, and then she was moving toward the window seat of the restaurant, but still close to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Slade take a seat, and it helped her to relax a little.
“You’re Cassie Love?” the man said, standing tall.
“Greg?”
“Yes, that’s me. Your picture didn’t do you justice.” He took her hand, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He moved the maître d’ out of the way, and pushed her seat under the table.
She felt a little uncomfortable, but she had put that down to all this newness.
“I’m really sorry. I’m so nervous. If I say something stupid, please ignore me,” she said.
“Is this your first online date?” Greg asked.
“Yes, it really is. Does it show?”
He laughed. “Just a little, but that’s more than fine.”
“Is this your first?”
“No. You’re my fourth.”
“Oh, well, then you should be a pro, and can totally lead the conversation, right?” She smiled, and this made him laugh.
“I wouldn’t call myself a pro. Fourth date could mean I’m really bad.”
“Or I’m really lucky. Fourth time’s the charm.” She grabbed her water glass, and took a sip.
Why did I let Jessica talk me into this?
I’m so fucking nervous.
She was so nervous she was even thinking curse words. Her heart was racing, and at the same time, she felt like she was betraying Slade. She looked toward the bar, and saw him playing around with his cell phone.
He wasn’t paying her all that much attention.
“Would you like some wine?” Greg asked.
“No, no, thank you. I’m not much of a big drinker. I think it said that on my profile.”
“Yes, it also said you worked as a receptionist in a sheriff’s office. That must be exciting,” he said, leaning forward.
She didn’t know what to do with her arms. Should she cross them, and lean forward, showing interest? That would put her elbows on the table, so wouldn’t that be rude? What about if she crossed her arms? No, that would show that she was defensive.
What were the damn rules?
Resting her hands in her lap, she forced a smile.
“I wouldn’t call it exciting. It’s a small-town sheriff’s office. A couple of drunk kids, or the occasional, erm, graffiti person. The odd drunk, that’s about it. What about you? You’re a firefighter. That must be really scary but rewarding.”
