“Of course. I had a nice time.”
“I did too.”
“The food was great.”
“So good.”
I don’t miss the way we’re both trying to get to the exit without either of us bringing up the idea of a second date. I think it was fairly obvious early on into dinner that we each got the friend vibe from the other.
“So, uh...” Michael holds the front door of the restaurant open for me. “I’ll probably see you around the field at some point. My dad has been wanting us to go to a game together.”
“That sounds great. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
He’s got this polite smile as he looks down at me, neither of us knowing how to end this as we awkwardly stand on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. But then his attention flicks to the street.
“Is that . . .”
I follow his line of sight.
No fucking way.
I didn’t entirely believe Emmett when he texted to tell me he’d be the one taking me home. I kind of thought it was simply said to stake his claim without doing anything to back it up.
But here he is, leaning against the hood of his truck, arms crossed over his chest, exuding all the confidence in the world. Waiting to pick me up from the date I was on with someone else.
I can say with certainty that there’s nothing between me and Michael. Because after two hours of conversation, I didn’t once feel an ounce of the need I have just from making eye contact across the sidewalk with Emmett.
Something is seriously wrong with me because at this point, even him finding street parking on a Saturday night is attractive to me. Then you add the black jeans, gray henley rolled to his elbows, and a ball cap, and I’m just kind of done for.
Which is fucking fabulous, you know. The whole point of going out with someone after years of actively being single was to prove to myself that I could replicate my attraction to Emmett.
Spoiler alert: I can’t.
Emmett pushes off his truck, meeting us on the sidewalk. “Sorry to interrupt.”
No, he’s not.
He watches only me but speaks to Michael as he does. “A work emergency came up and I need to speak to my boss.” For a brief moment, his eyes pan to my date. “In private.”
“Totally get it.” Michael holds his hands up before looking my way. “You’re good, then?”
“I’m good.” I offer him a polite smile. “Have a nice night.”
“You too.” Smiling, he nods to Emmett before he takes off in the opposite direction that I’ll be headed.
I watch his retreating back, waiting until he’s a far enough distance away before I spin back on my field manager. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t react to my tone. “I told you. I’m taking you home. Also, what was that? A little fight from the guy would’ve been nice. Another man just stole his date.”
“You didn’t steal anyone.” I roll my eyes because that seems a whole lot safer than jumping him in public. Which is exactly what I want to do. “And I’m good on the ride,” I say, taking a couple of steps in the direction of my condo. “I live within walking distance.”
“Reese.” Emmett takes a couple of quick steps with those long legs to meet up with me, standing in my path. “You’ve avoided me for too long, and I need to talk to you. Let me take you home.”
I look back at his truck. “I’d rather walk.”
His set jaw tics, before he runs a palm over his beard in frustration. “Okay,” he relents on a long exhale, moving out of my path. “Fine.”
I take a couple of steps, the stilettos of my heels clicking against the cement. But he’s not walking with me, so I turn back to find him stuck a few paces back.
