“It’s kind of funny, I met Sterling, Dylan’s lifeguard coach at the bakery in Ogunquit the other day, and we keep running into each other, so he convinced me to have dinner tonight.” I make sure to up the cheese factor just to get under Liam’s skin, especially seeing as he was stood up last night. This is starting to feel like a game, and I lovewinning.
“Oh, Sterling is a sweetheart,” she says. “Good pickings. There’s nothing like a good ole’ Canadian boy, eh?” she mocks with a cutechuckle.
“Exactly.” We both have a good laugh while Liam is clashing plates down onto thecountertop.
“Well, if everything with Dylan is all set now, I’m going to head upstairs and get dressed for tonight,” Itellher.
As I leave Samantha and Liam alone in the kitchen, I hear her mumbling something to him, followed by him responding with, “I don’t want to talkaboutit.”
Obviously, Liam can dish out all the assiness but can’t take it in return. I’m willing to bet all the other nannies have run away because of him. I wonder if Samantha hasconsideredthat.
Little do they both know, I’m not sure I’m as excited about going out with Sterling tonight as I made it appear. I suppose I’ll get some better insight into what’s going on with his flirtatious nature and expertise in making a woman melt with just one stare.I’m juggling too much right now. I’m going to get myself in trouble. I guess since I’m already heading in that direction, though, I might as well goallout.
I lift the flap of my suitcase and find it completely empty. Um, except, I didn’t put my clothes away yet. As the milliseconds pass by, I come to the quick conclusion that my clothes were put away by someone. A man who serves this house, possibly? I whip open the drawer closest to me and find my jeans all sorted by color and type.Oh no. Working my way down the row, I open one of the smaller drawers, finding my panties all folded nicely. Who the hell folds a pair of panties? He touched them all. Every single pair of my panties has been touched by this guy. My heart is racing, and anger is raging, or maybe it’s embarrassment. I don’t even know what the hell I’m feeling right now. He’s screwing with my emotional wiring, and it’s ... AGH. I open the drawer a little wider, needing to continue suffering through the truth of what happened up here, and I find a goddamn sticky note with a smiley face on it and the word “Nice.” I fall backward onto my butt and run my fingers through my hair. How am I supposed to face him now? No, screw this. Payback is inorderhere.
I’ll start with my black, thigh-length dress. By the length of her short shorts, I doubt Samantha will think much of it, and God knows Dylan hasn’t noticed anyone come in or out of the living room in two hours. The only person whose attention might be affected by this is Liam, and Sterling of course. I can handle him,though.
I take a few-minute shower, freshen up, get dressed, spritz some perfume over myself, and head downstairs. Liam is on the couch, looking over Dylan’s shoulder at whatever game he must be playing, but his attention is quick to shift over to me as I make it to the bottom step without fallingthistime.
His mouth parts just slightly, enough that for me to take a guess at the thoughts he’s trying to hide, except he’s not so good at hiding the struggle within his eyes. “Thank you for putting all of my clothes away,” I tell him. I press my lips firmly together and offer him a gracious, not-so-gracioussmile.
“Did you get my note?”heasks.
“No? I must not have needed that drawer tonight. However, I did dump all my dirty clothes into the hamper, so if you need to tend to that, have it. Was the note important?” Sorry, Liam, I’m not wearing panties tonight, or if I am, you definitely won’t see the lines through my skintight dress while you stare at my ass on the way out of the house. Take that,manservant.
Liam bites down on the tip of his thumb and slouches into the couch, looking awayfromme.
“Ah, no note. Well, I guess you’ll see it the next time you choose to wear—” His gaze drop to my thighs as he swallows whatever lump must be in his throat. He’s very uncomfortable all the sudden. I can’t imagine why?Weird.
“Next time I wear what?” Iquestion.
“Never mind,” he snickers nervously, with apparentfrustration.
“Oh, okay, well, thank you for folding and organizing my clothes today. I appreciate it. Have a good night,” I say,chipperly.
“Have fun!” Samantha yells out from thekitchen.
“I sure will,” I tell her, holding my focus on Liam with a raised brow to make my pointclear.
The second I leave the house, I feel like I won some kind of tournament. Game on,manservant.
The twenty-minute driveto Jade’s apartment is filled with fending off my bundled nerves as I question the right and wrong of going on this datetonight.
I’m in the prime of my life. This is what I should be doing—dating, trying new things, meeting new people, and finding what I do and don’t like, even though I’ve already learned that I don’t like good-looking men, which is why I shouldn’t be going on this datetonight.
In addition to Andy, my other past relationships contain enough content to fill an entire book, which is exactly what I plan to do. Some day when I get the nerve to do so, I’m going to write about my awful dating experiences and title itHe’s Just Too intoHimself.
While I’m not proud of the fact that I have enough knowledge on the subject to write an entire book, I can’t be the only one who keeps experiencing these types of men, and maybe the lessons I’ve learned can help a few others avoid the heartache I’vesuffered.
Before Andy, there was Brad. Brad had super light blond hair that every woman just needed to touch, baby blue eyes, a tan—even in the winter—and of course, gorgeous muscles. He had dazzling white teeth and a perfect smile, surrounded by his perfectpoutylips.
Brad and I dated for . . . ohhh ... just less than a week, but in that week, I endured awkward situations such as our first date when he sat down across from me, lifted his spoon, held it up in front of his face, smiled, and actually said ...“Wow, Brad, you are looking fine tonight.” I thought to myself, okay, maybe he’s just joking. However, when he pulled out his phone and askedmeto take a picture of him because selfies weren’t his “thing,” something felt a little off. In any case, I took the picture, then later that night, I saw it on Instagram with one hashtag that said, #lookinggood. I endured two more dates by drinking enough to convince myself his behavior was normal until he took me home and got me into bed. Things started out okay, but then I caught him staring at himself in his mirror while thrusting into me. At that moment, I decided enough was enough, so I got up mid-thrust, got dressed, andwalkedout.
After Brad, there was Zach. I had high hopes for Zach. Just like Brad, he was a lot to look at: dark hair, light inset eyes shadowed by thick lashes, a perfect nose, and lips I couldn’t look away from. He also knew how to dress, which is a total turn on for me. He looked good all the time. I took that as a good sign that he took care of himself and probably wouldn’t stop showering a month into our relationship if it were to end up going that far. So, I gave itago.
It started off great. Zack took me to a lovely, five-star seafood restaurant, but when we arrived, he waited in the car until I came to open his door. A bit confused, a bit, I asked him if everything was okay. He said he just needed to check something on his phone, so I figured it was a coincidence that I ended up openinghisdoor.
We walked to the entrance of the restaurant, and he stepped to the side and stared at the door like a dog that needed to go out. If only his tail had been wagging, I might have picked up on his need a little sooner. After an odd few seconds, I finally opened the door and waved him on in. Not even a thank you came out of his mouth. He did, however, greet the hostess, who had roaming eyes and a smile just for him. Zach’s response? A smile, followed by, “I know,right?”
