I grab her coat from where it’s draped over the back of the breakfast bar stool. Walking up behind her, I hold it open, helping her into it. My head dips low, catching the spritz of her perfume, the scent of her hair.
My voice lowers, my breath stirring the baby hairs on her long, graceful neck. “You look exquisite.”
The pleasure I feel when I see her skin break out in goosebumps from my proximity and my words almost suffocates the possessiveness she incites in me. “Now, let’s go.”
She stiffens. “You’re coming?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “Call it research.”
She groans, slipping out of my arms and leaving me feeling strangely bereft.
Pull it together, man.
She places a hand on my chest, halting me. “You can come on one proviso.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You do not mention me in this retelling.” She quirks a smile. “Particularly if any of this makes it into your script.”
“You got it,Pahe,” I lie, knowing this is just the start of our love story.
SEVEN
MOLLY
Josh follows me into the dimly lit bar, his hand resting on my lower back. I try not to notice how good it feels.
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Registration’s that way.”
He guides me across the room to a small table tucked against the bar.
“Hello, Speedy Singles!” A preppy young woman beams at us. “I’m Loretta Nales, your host for tonight. You can call me Lolly.” She winks, for some inexplicable reason. “Names?”
“Oh, he isn’t joining,” I say, correcting her. “Just me.”
The woman’s gaze shifts to Josh, her red-painted lips curving into a predatory smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? We’ve got a spare spot—someone dropped out last minute.”
Josh glances at me. I give him wide eyes, silently screaminghell no. He turns back to the woman. “Sounds good. Where do I sign up?”
She hands him a clipboard, winking again. “Fill out the questionnaire and add your banking details to the second page. We’re starting in ten minutes, so feel free to grab a drink and mingle beforehand.”
She turns away, welcoming her next victims.
Josh settles into the chair beside me, muttering as he scribbles answers.
“What the fuck kind of question is this?” he grumbles, tapping his pen against the paper. “Describe your perfect date?Ahlemna, what are you supposed to say besides ‘get laid’?”
I snort, nearly choking as the wine I’ve ordered burns my nostrils.
“What about this one?” He lifts the clipboard, reading aloud, “’If you were trapped on a deserted island, what three things would you take?’” He looks up at me. “As if you wouldn’t take something to getoffthe damn island.”
I point at him, yelling, “Exactly! That’sexactlywhat I put!”
He holds up a hand, and I slap it with a satisfying smack.
“That’s because we’re both sensible and made of awesome,” he says, glancing back at the clipboard and muttering, “Who writes this shit?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why are you even doing this? Even I don’t want to subject myself to this farce, and I voluntarilysignedup.”
