“No, why?”
“You sound a little out of breath,” I answered honestly, being a forty-some-year-old dummy when it came to men.
“Do you think I’m having hot sex, James?”
His voice came out raspy and hoarse, and it was shameful how much I liked the sound of it, considering he was talking about sex with someone else. “Forget I called.”
I’d prepped to hit the Disconnect Call button when he shouted, “Don’t hang up.”
“I can talk to you later. It was nothing urgent.”
“James, darling, I’m taking a run. Not having sex. Come on, Red.”
Closing my eyes, I realized what an absolute novice I was at this. If it wasn’t obvious how little I dated when he had me orgasming while fully dressed, it was now painfully apparent.
“I had to get out of the hospital. The smell of death and my mom’s bitching is an awful cocktail to swallow. I’m over by the apartment she rented, leaving my anger on the pavement.”
When he put it like that, I felt bad for thinking he was having sex. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I didn’t mean to press you.”
He laughed. “It was the best part of my day.”
“Oh.” My naivete was running rampant again. I needed to head to the bookstore and see if there was a title on middle-age dating for idiots.
“I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“I heard,” I said, trying to wield my power when it came to Ford.
“I realized last night I was a bit forward. I only intended to bring ice cream, not maul you in your kitchen. I’d like to make up for it.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I mean, it was okay…” I fumbled over my words, making it known this wasn’t a regular thing for me. The mauling.
He interrupted my rambling. “The stopping by or the mauling?”
“Both? Can I say both? I don’t know what’s appropriate. It looks like I’m going to go with honesty.” Thankfully I was sitting on a bench across the street from the hospital having this conversation. I couldn’t imagine what Ashley would think if she heard it.
“I like honesty. It’s something I don’t get a lot of in LA. So I’ll take it.”
“I should let you get back to your run.” For some reason his talking about LA made me feel uneasy. I wasn’t sure whether I didn’t want to admit how much I’d pine for him when he was gone, or how reality smacked that he had a life there—
“Dinner?” Ford spoke, rescuing me from the runaway train in my head.
Looking at my watch, I saw it was after four. “I have a meeting at five, and then I need to go home and change.”
“Sounds good. Should I pick you up?”
“Where are you staying, Mount Vernon?” I boldly asked, knowing that was where his mom rented a penthouse.
“Yes, everyone knows where we are, but I brought a car down from DC.”
“Let me come to you. There’s a good Italian place over there…”
“Where?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. I don’t need you to call ahead and make a big deal.”
“Whatever you like, Feisty James.”
“Bye.” Without a snarky nickname for him or a good reply, I figured it best to end the conversation.
