“What are you talking about?” Mom pinched the bridge of her nose as each word came out with more exhaustion than the last.
“Some of these guys have horse ranches and Ferraris.” I nodded my head toward the crowds mingling about. “I’m sure of it.”
She leaned on her fist and raised a brow. “Yeah, and some have mounds of debt, broods of kids and grandkids, and expectations of what a wife should be.” Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m done, Em. If you won’t take me home, I’ll call Betty.”
My stomach sank as I watched her dig in her purse for her phone. When she found out it wouldn’t work, it would be spray-painted Spike all over again. Probably worse. Well, so much for making sure no one saw me.
“I’ll be right back.” She would forgive me later…hopefully. I bolted, nearly causing my chair to fly back.
I opened the notes on my phone and walked between the tables and eavesdropped on conversations.
Fred was divorced and desperate.
Fred—No.
Hank grumbled about collection calls.
Hank—No.
Charlie mentioned a medical procedure accompanied by buckets of oozing pus.
Yikes!
Charlie—No.
This was less promising than I’d hoped. I looked around the room.
On the back wall, beside a large window, stood a George Clooney look-alike talking with a group of gentlemen whose appearance screamedI have a yacht and a red Ferrari. Tailored suits, flashy watches, a golf club exclusive type stance. The GC look-alike had on black slacks and a pressed striped button-up shirt. He flashed gold jewelry and a smile.
Mom waved her hand, catching my attention, and then pointed to her phone.
I acted like I didn’t know what she meant, and picked up speed toward my target. GC2 scowled at me, but continued the conversation about his new sailboat. I refrained from giving a fist bump. Called it!
Mom would love to sail.
After hearing his dark velvety voice and seeing him, I remembered he was the man who welcomed us to the event. Should I still ask him?
It would be a risk, but he still might be my best option.
He had a sailboat.
I pursed my lips and twisted slightly on my high heels. How would I ask him on a date for Mom and not sound super creepy?
“Excuse me, can I help you?” GC2 turned to me, giving me a full view of his name tag. Darian Cole.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt.” I cringed. “I…I just thought I heard you mention a boat?” Why was my voice so high? I cleared my throat.
“Yes.” The man’s tone was hesitant.
“Can I ask what kind?” I did my best to be sweet.
“Why does it matter?” His mouth pulled down into a frown.
Yikes. “I was only making small talk, because well…” I stopped before I mentioned Mom. “I was thinking of owning a boat myself.”
The man shot a puzzled look at the other gentlemen. “Youdon’t look fifty.” Darian Cole folded his arms and glared down his long nose at me.
“Oh, that’s because I…” I almost said I wasn’t, but the man narrowed his eyes in anger. I decided not to mention my age.
