“The Ottobar,” Piotr suggested. “They have live music and they’re in Charles Village. The grandkids like it, saying it’s an old-school alternative dive bar, whatever the heck that means.”
I didn’t know what that meant either, but I put an asterisk next to it, valuing Piotr’s opinion.
“The Horse is fun, although it’s in Fells Point, so parking is always a nightmare,” Edna said. “It’s a historic building, so that might be a fun conversation starter.”
Benny laughed. “I think we’re overwhelming the boy. He’s typing like crazy on that phone of his, and put himself in check-mate as well. Do you want us to vote, Enzo? Or you could just put all the names up on your wall and throw a dart at them to choose?”
I looked at them, panic rising up through my chest. Then I glanced at Piotr who smiled as he advanced his queen and knocked my king over.
“You pick,” I told him. “You’ve listened to what your grandchildren like, and I believe this female will enjoy the same.”
The old man laughed. “Okay, but don’t blame me if the whole date goes sideways. “Make reservations for an early dinner at Costiera in Little Italy. Walk down to Vacarro’s for cannoli afterward. Then go dancing at Mobtown. It’s a long evening, but you’re young and probably don’t need to be in bed by nine like us old folks. After Mobtown, take her home and make the rest of the night all about her. Since you don’t cook, make sure you have pastries for breakfast and some decent coffee. Or for lunch,depending on how late you two sleep in. Show her that she’s more than a booty call.”
I began to set the chess pieces up again for our next game.Wasthe shrew more than a booty call? My brain wanted to say no, but that sentimental organ behind my rib cage and my hand-axe were absolutely saying yes.
16
WILLA
“I’m so sorry. It’s just that I kind of want to explore what might happen with this guy in a monogamous way. I hate to cancel on you last-minute like this, but it would feel deceptive to continue seeing you when I’m thinking I might want something longer term with this other man.”
I was sweating, pacing back and forth in my tiny apartment as I had the most awkward phone call of my entire life. In the end, I couldn’t just text Dean to cancel our date. I owed him an explanation with at least a phone call if not an in-person discussion.
“That’s okay, Willa. Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I appreciate the call instead of the usual ghost-and-block.” He laughed. “And I understand. When you find someone you really connect with, it’s reasonable to want to explore that.”
I was such an idiot. Why was I passing up on Dean for a guy I had no future with, a guy that would surely break my heart?
Because Eng was like a hit of adrenaline in my veins. At first it was just the great sex, but I’d caught glimpses of the man inside the amazing body, and I liked what I saw. He was smart, confident, quick-witted, and took his responsibilitiesseriously. And he was honest—brutally so. Which meant that his assholeness came from a redeeming source as far as I was concerned.
Cocky, arrogant, emotionally unavailable. Those were the issues, especially the last one. Cocky and arrogant wasn’t a deal-breaker. Emotionally unavailable was.
He’d flat out said I wasn’t a princess candidate. And while that stung a bit, I did admire his setting the ground rules for what I could expect and not expect within the first hour of our meeting. Eng would never be the kind of guy to string me along. Sex. That was it. That was all he had to offer, and I’d thought that would be fine with me.
Then he’d asked me out on a date, and my stupid pulse kicked into overdrive.
A date.
Maybe he was changing his mind about my princess potential. It was the kind of stupid optimism that had doomed every one of my past relationships.
I hung up with Dean after wishing him the best, then got ready for work, trying not to obsess about tonight’s date.
In addition to my three Saturday clients, I taught the kettlebell class, and ended up on the treadmill, trying to run away from all the thoughts churning in my head. Stephanie hopped onto the machine next to me so I shut off my music, knowing the werewolf liked to chat as she ran.
“How’s your weekend looking?” I asked.
Stephanie grinned, cranking the speed to the max and lifting the deck to a three percent incline. “Work, work, and more work. Last night was fun, and I’m glad I made time for the hockey game and the afterward with you all at McHenry’s, but I’ve got this house to finish and I’m solo this job.”
“Any news on the…you know?” I inclined my head to the row of televisions in front of us. Stephanie had sworn us to secrecyabout her possible television season deal, but I was dying to know if I’d be seeing my friend on the screen this fall, renovating a home for some local big-wig baseball guy.
“I’m in the final three.” Stephanie held up both hands to show me her crossed fingers.
“Congrats!” This was huge. Home Sweet Home was nationally syndicated. A televised season of Stephanie remodeling some famous person’s home would absolutely send her business into the stratosphere.
“It’s too early to offer congratulations. I haven’t won yet, and top three doesn’t mean squat unless I do.”
I eyed the werewolf sympathizing with her intensely competitive, winner-takes-all outlook. “Top three means you’ll have a strong chance to land another show if this one falls through,” I reminded her.
She grimaced, raising the incline on her treadmill another notch. “True. But it could be years before I land a season if I don’t get this one. And there aren’t a whole lot of other shows like Home Sweet Home. Decorator Swap is popular for being a train wreck. It’s not going to do my business any favors having a client who favors cubism trash my work on his late nineteenth century neoclassical revival home. And Budget Decor? I’ll admit I’ve found a treasure-trove of antiques hidden away at thrift shops and flea markets, but even I can’t make a silk purse out of stained Tupperware and wicker baskets.”
