“I’m not,” I say. “I’m pretty, but let’s be real. I’m not date-a-hockey-star pretty. Besides, it’s not just about looks. It’s a classic case of jocks don’t fall for nerds. We have nothing in common. I plan my vacations around academic conferences. He travels around North America in a cloud of testosterone and spends his nights surrounded by puck bunnies.”
“I’m hanging up on you now,” Celena warns. A pause. “Wait, I thought you weren’t meeting Ash until eight o’clock.”
I sigh heavily. “I’m not. I have to go kill half an hour before I can head over to his place.”
“Text him to see if you can come early,” she suggests.
Part of me wants to cancel with Ash altogether. The date with Barry drained me, and I’m not feeling up to this tonight, but I made a commitment, and I plan to see it through.
“Alright, I’ll text him,” I say. “But if he says no, then I’m stopping somewhere to get a drink.”
“Are you okay?” Celena asks me.
“I’m just really tired and frustrated right now,” I say. “I want to date again, but I forgot how much mental and emotional work it is.”
“I know, hon,” Celena says gently. “Hang in there. It will get better.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
“Good night. Text me tomorrow about how things go with Ash.”
“Will do.”
Chapter 8
Ash
“Hey, come on in,” I say when I open the door for Doc Mackey. She texted a little while ago to see if she could come early, and I told her to head on over.
Her eyes travel down and back up my body briefly before her jaw sets. She mutters a thanks as she walks past me into the house. I look down at the gray sweatpants and black v-neck t-shirt I’m wearing, and frown. My feet are bare as well, and I wonder if she’s angry at me for not dressing more professionally.
It was a long day at practice, and I wanted to be comfortable. She’ll have to deal.
The doc herself is more dressed up than the last time she came over. She has on a black skirt, tighter than the one she wore the first day I met her, but not so tight it looks like she’s trying to show off her body. The sweater she wears hugs her torso, so I see she has a nice figure, with full breasts and hips that give her an hour-glass shape.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask as we head to the living room.
She flops onto the couch after setting her laptop on the coffee table. Her mouth works silently as if she wants to say something before she finally decides on, “Water is fine.”
I go to the water cooler, fill a glass, then go back to the couch and hand it to her.
“Now tell me what you really want to drink,” I say as she’s about to thank me.
Her mouth hangs open in surprise as I call her on the lie.
She sighs. “I don’t suppose you have any wine?”
I consider what’s in my cabinets. “Does it have to be good wine?”
“No. I’ll take Two Buck Chuck at this point,” she says.
I’m not entirely sure what that is, but the name says it all, so I head back into the kitchen and open the cabinet that contains a built-in wine rack. I keep some on hand for entertaining, even though I don’t drink it myself. I pull out a bottle and hold it up.
“Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon?” I ask.
Her face eases. “That’s better than I was expecting.”
I’m not sure how to take the comment, but I let it go and fish in the designated kitchen gadget drawer for the corkscrew. I find it in the back and open the bottle.
