“Telling you that I’m a weirdo.” Her cheeks become even pinker, and she taps her pencil on the paper. “I was meant to do that after.”
“After what?” I take another sip of my beer to suppress my impending grin.
Her eyes travel between me and her notes, and she takes another deep preparatory-type breath.
“Well, first, I was meant to say that I have about…” She turns her wrist to view her very expensive-looking watch that appears to have all the bells and whistles. Her eyes close, and she seems to count to five before she opens them again.
She looks me dead in the eyes and leans forward.
“In about seventeen minutes’ time, those tequila shots will begin to render my judgment somewhat impaired, so I need to tell you right now that I’d very much like to have sex with you. It’d be a one-night stand sort of thing. Tonight,” she clarifies — as if maybe I’d assume she meant some other night.
“Not yet,” she adds quickly. “I definitely won’t be brave enough until the tequila has kicked in. I just wanted you to know — while I’m still sober — that I’d very much like it to happenand that you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, so you should definitely do it. If you want to,” she amends before reviewing her notes again. She nods, as if to herself, and crosses the top line of mixed letters off her little list.
Not quite sure I can believe what’s happening, I ease backward and look her over.
What the fuck have I been blessed with here?
Is she asking if I want to put myself on herTo-Dolist? Um, fuckyes. She’s gorgeous, and I haven’t ever been more intrigued. What did I do to deserve such a beautiful offer? I search her sweet, serious face and then admire the full curves filling out her compact frame.
She clears her throat, and I lift my eyes from her chest to her face again.
“I see you like my breasts. Do you want to have sex?” she asks. Her pencil poised at the next line of letters. “With me,” she clarifies.
This is definitely too good to be true. Is there a catch?
I narrow my gaze. “My short answer is yes, but the long answer involves questions.”
“So, to confirm, your interest is genuine, and your proposed response isyes?” she asks, trying to hide her smile.
I nod, and she strikes through two more lines with her pencil.
“Wait. That crossedtwothings off your list?”
“The first was asking the question, and the other referred to what I’d have done if you’d said no.”
Elbows on the table, I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on them as I gaze at her pretty face. How dumb would I be todeclinesuch an offer? “What would you have done in that case?”
“That’s not important now,” she says brusquely, moving down the obscure list with her pencil. “What’s your name?”
A deep chuckle escapes me. I didn’t have myself pegged for enjoying anything for a while, but this girl is tickling my funny bone. “Maybe we should have started with that one,” I say as I reach a hand toward her. “Bates.”
Her eyebrows twitch, and she firmly shakes my big hand with her much daintier one. “Lana.”
“Pretty.”
She blushes again, and I feel my own face begin to warm.
If her cheeks keep pinking-up like this all night, I’m going to be seriously smitten. Or maybe I already am. She’s different from every other woman I’ve met, and I like it. I like it so much, I’ve already imagined a few different futures with her — although how different can they really be if we end up married with kids in all of them?
I scold myself for even entertaining thoughts like that about a complete stranger — especially after the train-wreck of a relationship I just hauled my heavy heart away from.
I look at the beautiful woman in front of me and attempt to grasp a more rational, realistic perspective, but my desire to start a family with her remains.Shit… Is it stronger than ever? Whatisthis? Aside frominappropriate, that is.
Am I having a midlife crisis? Because it feels like my biological clock is in hyper-drive. I used to think only women experienced instinctual urges to procreate, but I’m finding it hard to look at Lana without having “making babies” come to mind. I push the thought aside, but it keeps coming back. I can’t seem to shake the thought of my kids having her blond curls, no matter how many times I try.
It’s a good thing she’s talking about a one-night-only event, or I’d be asking her to help me check some shit offmylist.
Can I keep you?
