Another man made his way over. She sighed and looked up at him standing by her table.
His blue eyes locked on hers, and one corner of his mouth curled up. “I’d ask if I could buy you a drink, but you haven’t touched the one in front of you. And I’d invite you to dance, but I know you’ll say no. So let me ask, why is a woman sitting alone at a bar, not drinking and turning down every guy who comes her way?” He was tall, with dirty-blond hair curling around his ears and might have been her type a few years back.
She swirled the liquid in her glass, but didn’t take a drink. “You’ve been watching.”
“You’re hard to miss.” He gripped the back of the chair in front of him, his fingers tensing around the wooden slat.
She closed her eyes and smiled. “I’m waiting for my friend to show up, but I suspect she’s ditching me for a guy. And turns out, I’m not in a drinking mood.” The band finished its song and cleared the stage for a break. They promised to be back in ten.
He glanced over his shoulder. “A sea of men will be storming your table now. Why don’t I join you and keep them at bay while you wait?”
Now her mouth curled up. “Will that count towards your community service?”
He placed his hand on his heart and jerked back like he’d been punched. “Ouch, now I
have
to sit down, that hurt.”
Biting her lip to stifle a laugh, she shrugged. “Sure, but I’m leaving in fifteen minutes if she doesn’t show.”
He held out his hand. “Drake Johnson.”
His hand was firm and warm when she shook it. Always a good quality in a man—if she’d been looking. “Rachel Miller.” She took a sip of her drink, now watered down from the melting ice cubes.
He spun the chair around, straddled it, and sat across from her. “So, why not give some poor guy here a shot and kill time while you wait? Do you have a boyfriend?”
She shook her head.
He shook a finger at her. “Let me guess. Too busy with your career for men?”
“Nope. I’ve got time, or I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for a friend.” Her freelance graphic design business meant she could make her own hours. Just one of the reasons she loved it.
He narrowed his eyes. “An arranged marriage looming?”
She laughed. “That might be easier than the dating scene.”
“Ahh. You’re coming off a nasty breakup and you’re not ready to have your heart broken again.” He crossed his arms and looked very satisfied.
She blew out a breath. “Nasty breakup, yes. But a broken heart? No. I wish.”
He cocked his head, looking confused. “You wish your heart was broken? What, you need an excuse for a weekend-long chocolate binge?” He planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
“It’s too ridiculous to explain. Trust me.” She held up her hand like she might be able to keep this hot guy and his personal questions from getting any closer.
“Now you have to explain. I love ridiculous.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, wondering how to tell him this without sounding like a total bitch.
Who cares? You’ll never see him again
. “I’m sick of breaking hearts.” She looked at him, waiting for his reaction.
He slapped his hand over his own heart. “Wow.”
“No, seriously. It’s really hard to break up with someone who still likes you. I’m always the one who ends it, and I hate disappointing them. It sucks, and I’m no good at it.”
“Sucks more than getting dumped?”
One shoulder jerked up. “I don’t know. I’ve never been dumped.”
He stared at her, like he was waiting her to fess up to the truth. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s been dumped. In high school, getting dumped was a sport for me.” He jerked his thumb against his chest. “I majored in getting dumped in college.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Sounds like you have a lot to offer the ladies.”
“Hilarious. So you’re telling me no man has ever broken up with you? Not once in your life?”
She shook her head. “It’s true. And I’m sick of the phone calls afterward. Sad at first, then desperate, then angry.” She took another drink. “I once had to get a restraining order on a guy who just wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s why I’m done with dating for a long time.” Her hand sliced the air. “So, why bother dancing with a guy when there’s no chance it will go anywhere? At least I’m not leading them on. You’d think I’d get credit for that.”
“I’ll dump you,” he offered.
She laughed. “Best offer I’ve had all night.”
He moved to the chair next to her and they were elbow to elbow. “No, seriously. I’m in town for the summer. I’m leaving August 31st. Let’s go out until then, and I promise to dump you. I don’t do long-distance relationships.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a long story I’ll tell you a few weeks into our relationship on some warm, summer night when we’re getting cozy under the stars.”
She giggled. “Again, ridiculous.”
“Like I said, I’m all about ridiculous.”
“What if you change your mind and stay? Then I’ll have to dump you. Defeats the whole purpose.”
“Absolutely not. I start culinary school in the fall, and I’m not giving that up. And no way do I want to have a relationship distracting me while I’m in school.”
She tipped her head and stared at him. His dimples seemed permanently carved in his cheeks, with that ever-present smile. His hair curled around his face in a boyish way that probably got him out of a lot of trouble. Irresistible was a word that came to mind. “What if I get so annoyed with you before that, that I have no choice but to dump you? Seems like a good possibility.”
“Won’t happen. I’m a good kisser.”
“And incredibly cocky.” She gave him a playful nudge and was pleased to find he had a muscular arm.
“Play to your strengths.”
Rachel was intrigued, but it was a stupid idea—the kind that could only be concocted at a bar. Crossing her arms, she gave him the bad news. “Sorry. I guess I’ll always have to wonder about your prowess.”
He gave her a playful pout. “You sure? I’ve dumped plenty girls in my life. Made a few cry even. I’d be brilliant. You’d need gallons of ice cream to get over me.”
She laughed. “I’m quite sure, but thanks for the offer.”
He stood up. “It was worth a shot.”
“Good luck with culinary school.”
He looked back as he walked away. “Good luck finding a guy to dump you. Can’t imagine anyone would want to.”
She pushed away her unfinished drink and reached for her car keys in her purse. She grabbed her cell to text Lindsey that she was leaving, but Lindsey had beaten her to it.
Tyler and I are officially a couple! Call you tomorrow
.
Ugh. If Tyler and Lindsey were dating—and not just sleeping together—she’d certainly be stepping up the campaign to get Rachel to go out with Tyler’s best friend Luke, Mr. Persistent from the wedding. “He’s got the wonderful accent,” Lindsey had scolded, as if that were reason enough to give him a whirl. “And he’s rich!” Lindsey was full of ideas for the two of them; and Luke was just full of himself. That added up to bad news.
She rubbed her temples and looked up, and saw another man standing in front of her. “Wanna dance, sugar?”
“No, thanks.” She gave him a feeble smile.
He hitched up his jeans. “You think you’re too good for us here? You been turning down men all night.” He looked her up and down. “You some kind of city slicker?”
Just because I’m not wearing cowboy boots?
Why couldn’t she just lie and say she had a boyfriend? But Rachel didn’t like to lie, even if it made things easier. It was some residual Catholic schoolgirl thing. She twisted her lips. Having a boyfriend would make things a lot easier. She’d be able to fend off Luke, at least. And she certainly had some time on her hands now that Lindsey was going to be busy with Tyler. Plus, Drake was hot. And funny. If she were the one-night stand type, he’d fit the bill.
But this is more like a two-month stand
.
She looked over at Drake with his back against the bar, watching her. He raised an eyebrow and smiled. She pointed at him. “That’s my boyfriend. He doesn’t really appreciate me dancing with other men.”
The guy wandered away, and she crooked her finger at Drake to signal him to come over.
He bumped into a chair as he dashed over to her. “A change of heart?”
“Not if you’re going to be obnoxious about it.”
He crossed his arms. “So we
are
going to go out. Hot damn.”
“Let’s leave.”
“Ready to try out my kissing already?” He patted his pockets. “Where did I put that Chapstick?”
She stood up with a sigh and slung her purse over her shoulder. “No, I’m just ready to call it a night and I told that guy you’re my boyfriend. Plus, I’m not sure how you’d hold up in a bar fight, so we’d better leave.”
“Not well. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“Let’s just go.”
He moved closer behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Whatever my honey-bunny wants.”
She wiggled her shoulders away from him. “Absolutely not. No pet names.”
“Of course, pumpkin.”
She glared at him and headed for the door.
“Kidding,” he said, catching up to her. “Wait. Let me walk you to your car. My realtor got jumped in a parking lot last summer. Gotta be careful.”
She paused, and he held the door when they stepped out into the warm night.
“Thank you,” she said. “Although, leaving with a stranger might not be the safest thing either.”
“I’m not a stranger. I’m your new boyfriend. The one with a scheduled departure date who just saved you from a horde of men.” He reached for her hand, and she stepped away.
“Slow down, we haven’t even had our first date yet.”
“No goodnight kiss?” he teased. His pale blue eyes practically glowed under the lights in the parking lot and the effect shot straight to her knees.
She shook it off and looked up at the full moon in the sky. “Please don’t make me dump you already.”
He slid his hands in his pockets. “Okay, how about dinner tomorrow?”
“That sounds perfect.”
He programmed her number into his phone and walked her to her car. Leaning in her open window, he grinned. “Good night, sweet cheeks.”
She rolled up the window on him, and he watched her pull away.
Rachel drove home wondering how she had made such a stupid agreement without having even finished one drink. When Lindsey finally came up to breathe from her new relationship, she was totally blaming this on her.
She shouldn’t have been nervous for their dinner date, but she was. Probably because she was worried it would be bad—atrocious. Then what? She really wanted to have one relationship where she wasn’t the one who walked away.
Slipping on a silky pink sundress with matching shoes, she told herself to lighten up and have fun. This was a relationship with an expiration date. She might be revolutionizing the whole dating scene, like car rentals did for the automobile industry. She perked up at that thought.
Drake showed up right at six with a bunch of roses the exact color of her dress. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Thanks,” she said, quickly transferring them to a vase in the kitchen, hoping her cheeks weren’t turning pink, too.
“Cute place,” he said, strolling through her apartment. He picked up a throw pillow from her couch, fluffed it, and tossed it back. “Will I be getting my own shelf in the medicine cabinet?” The tips of his hair were still wet from a shower. A subtle smell of musk and spice hit her.
She sucked in her breath. “How do you know I’m not going to back out on this deal and dump you before the week is over?”
Her kitty, Hijinx, crept out from under the couch and wound himself between Drake’s feet. Hijinx usually didn’t slink out to investigate until the third or fourth date.
Drake reached down to scratch his ears, which earned an enthusiastic head butt from the cat. “You won’t bail, because you seem like the kind of girl who sticks to her promises.” He stood up and clapped his hands together. “So, shall we skip dinner and spend the night making out?”
She dropped her head back and closed her eyes.
“Just throwing it out there in case you wanted to speed things along. No worries. Since I suspected you might be hungrier for food than a taste of my lips, I made reservations for Italian, Thai, and gourmet burgers. Take your pick.”
Thorough and thoughtful. That scored a couple of points to counterbalance the cockiness. “Let’s try Thai.”
Drake did everything right. He opened her car door, let her choose the radio station in the car, and pulled out her chair. She hadn’t found a reason to ding him any points so far. It was like he’d flipped on his good-behavior switch. Things would be so much easier if men came equipped with one of
those
.
“Nice place,” she said. Bright tapestries covered the walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Soft Zen music played overhead. It was casual but elegant, and surprisingly, she was looking forward to their evening together.
They ordered four dishes to split and didn’t have any difficulty choosing ones they both liked. “What do you do for a living?” he asked while they waited for their food to arrive.
“I’m a freelance graphic artist. I’ve got an awesome boss.” She jabbed her thumb against her chest. “Me. And how about you?”
He held out one hand and started listing past occupations with the flick of each finger. “I’ve been a lifeguard, a telemarketer, a dog walker, and a limo driver. I’m unemployed for the moment while I wait to go to culinary school. I’m hoping this is the career that sticks.”
That would have set off warning bells on any other first date. Flaky and unemployed usually weren’t the best qualities in a man. But this time, it didn’t matter. After the waiter dropped of their food she asked, “Why are you in Springfield this summer instead of home?”
“I’m staying in my grandmother’s house while the family tries to sell it. Everyone else lives out of town. She died last year and we haven’t been able to sell the house.”
She set down her fork. “I’m sorry. You must miss her.”
“I do. We were really close. Grandma was really the only one in my family who ‘got’ me. She encouraged me to pursue all my interests, didn’t give me a hard time when I dropped out of fencing class after six months—even after announcing I’d make it to the Olympics some day. She liked that I tried different things, even though other people in the family wondered when I was going to get my shit together. Funny thing is, she never had a job, and never left this town, but she could still appreciate a dreamer like me.”