He tapped the phone off and hustled to the hallway. With no time to wait for the elevator, he jogged down the steps two at a time. He had to get to Velma before she made an even bigger mistake with someone who cared a hell of a lot less about her than he did.
* * *
Of all themen Velma expected to meet at the matchmaker mixer, Wayne Marsh was not one of them. And yet, Brek’s mom, Pam, had matched Velma and Wayne for the first thirty-minute date of the night.
Wayne and Velma had grown up together. He was the literal boy next door.
Velma’s throat constricted. She had hurried out of the garage after her humiliation with Brek. No way could she face him after what happened. Nope. Avoidance was key. She’d ignored his calls. His texts. What was left to say?
Wayne sauntered toward her, winding behind tables and chairs and other attendees. All six feet two inches of police officer handsome. Darn it. Why couldn’t he make her all tingly like Brek? All those little feelings that made her uncomfortable, happy, and adventurously naughty hit her in the belly, only with the one man she had embarrassed herself with and could never, ever see again.
“Velma, dear. This is Wayne. According to your questionnaires, you two are incredibly compatible.” Pam squeezed Velma’s arm in reassurance. “Really, it’s very rare to find two people as compatible as the both of you.”
His eyes twinkled as he got closer. Honest to goodness, they twinkled. Like a freaking cartoon hero. “Velvet.”
Ugh. No. Not Velvet.
“Hi, Wayne.” She made every effort not to wring her hands or suck on her lip. She failed and glanced to Pam. “We, ah, actually know each other. We grew up together.”
Pam clapped her hands in delight and waved to someone across the room. “Wonderful. I can feel the chemistry already. You two are in the far booth. Thirty minutes and then I’ll introduce you to your next partner. Talk about the things you both enjoy doing and relax. Remember, this is fun!”
Wayne wasn’t bad. He was goodness personified. He should probably get his own sunshine halo and the key to the city. It wouldn’t ever cross his mind to have sex on a motorcycle. Wayne would have rose petals and champagne. Probably strawberries. Dipped in chocolate.
He stood there, eyes sparkling, an ear-to-ear grin. Nothing like Brek. Which was a good thing. A great thing. Especially since she wasn’t presently talking to her roommate.
“Should we go sit?” Wayne cleared his throat and gestured to a corner booth set for two.
“Yeah. Yes. Yup.” Velma ran a hand over the skirt of her teal dress. He held out his palm, clearly waiting for her to grasp it. But she couldn’t touch him. Not when she had thrown herself at Brek earlier in the day. Brek, who had changed his mind about her…because she was boring, boring Velma.
Brek had to getoutof her head.
She took Wayne’s cool hand and…nothing. Absolutely nothing. His thumb stroked the fleshy part between her thumb and pointer finger and, well, still nothing. The familiar cologne he wore was a comforting balm on an otherwise rough day, but that was it.
“This is my first time,” Velma said, the blood promptly draining from her face to pool in embarrassment within her chest. “I mean, here. My first time at one of these things.”
“I came last month.” They skirted the tables and Wayne helped her as she stepped up into her side of the booth. Aside from the lack of tingles at his touch, he could make an exceptional date.
“How did it go?” she asked before choking on a gulp of water. She pounded a fist to her chest and smiled.
“I’m back this month. That tells the story, I suppose.” He chuckled at himself. “So…”
“So.” She sipped a bit more, avoiding the ice cubes. “We should have wine. Let’s have wine. I think we should.”
Snatching the wine menu beside the salt and pepper, she flipped through the laminated pages. She glanced up when he remained silent.
His eyes caught the low light from the sconce on the wall beside their table. “All right.”
He hailed a waiter. Velma ordered the house white. He ordered a Coors, from a bottle. Like Brek always ordered. Ugh. Brek.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re here tonight.” Wayne leaned against the back of the booth. His long arm sprawled along the edge.
“Me, too,” Velma said under her breath. She fiddled with the fake leather cover of her menu.
“I guess it’s my lucky day, then.” Wayne dropped his arm and poured his newly arrived beer into a frosted glass. “I’ve had the steak. It’s good. But probably just time for appetizers tonight before they move us along.”
Oh. Right.
She refused to look at the label of his bottle. As far as she was concerned, Coors was now the beer of Wayne. Not that other guy. The one who always drank straight from the bottle. No frosted glass for him because it probably broke biker code.
