Time after time, it either ends after one date or they never bother to show up. How hard is it to findoneperson?
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” Shelly asks, coming up to the booth.
Checking my phone one more time, I decide to call it. No sense in sitting here feeling like a fool.
“No. I’ll just take the check.”
Shelly gives me a pat on the arm. “It’s on the house, honey.”
I wince. “Thanks.”
Nothing like people taking pity on you because you were stood up. Grabbing my purse from the black leather seat, I go to stand, but stop.
“Sam. Hi.”
In his usual tight jeans and an even tighter white T-shirt, he looks hot as sin walking into the restaurant toward me.
“Joey. Nice to see you.” Sam smiles down at me, resting one hand on the opposite side of the booth. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting on a date.” I look around, trying to deflect his gaze from mine.
“When’s he supposed to be here?”
“Oh, about thirty minutes ago.” I sigh. “I’m leaving now. No sense in waiting around for him to show if he’s this late.”
“Even if he did show up at this point, fuck him,” Sam snarls.
“What? Why?”
“If a man can’t be on time to meet you, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, but he was probably too good to be true, anyway,” I say. “So stupid of me.”
“Why’s that?” Sam asks, looking confused.
“A picture with a puppyanda kid?” I scoff. “He just wants to draw a woman in so he can get laid.”
And I fell for it—hook, line, and sinker.
“Hey.” Sam rests a warm hand on my forearm. “He’s the stupid one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he passed up the chance at meeting you. He’s an idiot.”
Something flares in Sam’s eyes and I don’t understand it, but his words have my stomach doing somersaults. Sam Shaw has no right to look as sexy as he does. The kind of sexy that is so effortless, you wonder where it comes from.
I don’t know when Sam became attractive in my eyes.
It might have been the first time I came home from college and saw him working on the ranch with no shirt on. Those biceps were too delicious not to drool over. Or maybe it was when he was pitching in at the diner to help Betty after her husband passed away.
Or maybe it’s the way he looks at me like I deserve more.
“Sam. Your food’s ready,” Shelly calls from the register. “Get it while it’s hot.”
“I should get going,” he says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
“Why don’t you eat here with me?” I ask.
