“I’ve recently started to try my hand at sculpting with air-dry clay. I’ve found it to be really quite…”
I tune her out somewhere around ‘clay.’ I should be paying attention and making an effort, here – this could wind up being more than just a one night stand if I play my cards right. But after more than a decade not tying myself down in anything serious, I’ve gotten comfortable enough here. Just let off some steam when I need a little release and wash my hands of the whole deal the morning after. The small talk that comes before is fucking torture.
What do you do for a living?
What are your hobbies?
Do you have kids?
Name one thing you would take with you on a deserted island!
I’ve pretty much heard it all at this point, and it’s become tedious. There’s no substance in these ‘first dates,’ nothing that ever leaves me craving something more with the person at the other end of the table.
It takes effort not to check my watch to see how long this little date has gone on – not because she’s done anything wrong; she’s quite pleasant, actually. I’m just not interested in pursuing anything more than a quick fuck, and from the messages she was sending me, it seemed to be mutual, though I’m doubting that now, as she pulls up the dessert menu and places an order.
It’s fine, I think.If I’m going to use her, I can at least wait while she has a piece of fucking cheesecake.
I pay the bill and hold out my arm for her as we leave the restaurant.
The drive to her place is just as long as the dinner, or at least it feels that way. The silence is filled with more small talk, questions about my businesses – how many I own, what my schedule looks like on a given day, how many people I employ – enough to tell me where this woman’s head is at, and I’m suddenly completely fine with the factthat I zoned out during our meal. I answer her questions without offering any additional information and make sure to ask her a few in return, just to be a gentleman.
“So,” my date says, “do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Coffee sounds great.”
I step out of my seat and hurry around to open her door and let her out of the car. She offers me a gentle smile and takes my hand as she steps out onto her driveway. I walk her up to the door and wait while she digs around in her purse for her keys, almost like she’s making a show of being flustered, until she finally locates them and slips the right one into the lock.
Swinging open the door, she says, “I’ll put a quick pot on and we can continue our conversation.”
Frog or prince. Pick one and stick to it.
The words slam into me like a goddamn semi truck, and I hesitate, unable to bring myself to cross the threshold.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, surprising even myself. “I don’t think I can do this tonight.”
Pressing my lips into a tight smile, I turn and head back toward my car, leaving my date alone in her doorway, confused.
I might be pissed at Rowan for her behavior, I might be insanely fucking jealous over the men she couldpotentiallybe choosing to spend her time with, but walking into that house would feel like a betrayal, and I won’t do that to her. Even if she would never know.
TWENTY-TWO
Colt
Three agonizing weeks have passed with things being strictly professional between myself and Rowan. I don’t look forward to our greetings, anymore, now that all we say is ‘morning.’
It hasn’t been a happy Monday in so long I’ve almost forgotten what that sounds like, but god, I miss it all the same.
I look at the clock when I hear the telltale jingle of Rowan’s keys as she walks down the hallway – eight fifteen. Right on time, like she always is. It never seems to matter what could be going on in her life, or what her morning looks like – she is always here, always shows up.
When I ready myself to go through the motions of our flat morning greeting, I hear her keys jingle faster until she rounds the corner, a smile wide on her face and tears lining her beautiful blue eyes.
“Colt, I got it!”
It takes a few seconds to process that she’s called me by my name for the first time in almost a month, before I even realize what she’s talking about. As realization hits, my eyes widen and I damn near jump up from my desk.
“You did?”
She nods, barely able to hold herself together before she flies toward me and throws her arms around my waist. Fuck, I missed the way it felt to have her in my arms. I wrap my arms around her, holding her as close to me as I possibly can. The smell of her strawberry shampoo wafts up to my nose like it’s coming home, and I can finally fucking breathe again.
