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“Ted!” Mom yells while glaring at him.
“Listen,” Dad continues, ignoring Mom’s death glare. “It’s one dinner. Maybe it’ll be a good test to see how you feel about dating? And if it’s awful, or too difficult emotionally, then you never have to see the man again. You don’t hang out at the country club, anyway.”
I think for a moment, taking in my father’s words and my conversation with my support group earlier. Maybe it would be better for me to be forced on a random date with someone I’ve never met to rip off the proverbial band aid. But do I want to give my mother the upper hand here and make her think she can hoodwink me into her deceptive plans?
Absolutely not.
“I’m leaving,” I say matter-of-factly. “Come on, Samantha, pick up your toys. We’re heading home.”
“Sophie! Don’t be ridiculous.” My mom whisper-yells from behind me as I walk toward the front door.
Ignoring her, I yank the front door open.
“Please try to hurry, Sam!” I call out before turning and coming face to face with an attractive man standing on my parent’s front steps.
He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth.
“You must be Sophie? I’ve heard so much about you.” He’s holding a bouquet of flowers and extends them to me. “These are for you.”
I gulp, suddenly feeling bad for the man. He’s innocent in all of this, and here he’s just being perfectly kind and polite.
“Thank you. You’re Bradley?”
“Yes, Bradley Vanderven. Nice to meet you.”
He reaches his hand out for what I assume is a handshake. His mannerisms seem stiff and formal, but then again, he probably feels nervous. I reach out to shake his hand, but instead he takes my hand in his, turns it over, and places a kiss on it. Wow, that was weird.
Bradley looks behind me and smiles, releasing my hand. “Mrs. Windell, lovely to see you again.”
Oh, that’s right, my mother is standing right behind me, watching this entire encounter.
“You as well! Sophie is so excited for your date.”
Slowly, I turn to face my mom and find her grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I glare at her so she knows I’m not amused and then turn my gaze back to Bradley. “Bradley, do you mind if I speak with my mother privately for a moment?”
His expression looks apprehensive, but he nods. “Of course.”
I close the front door, leaving Bradley on the front steps and my mother’s jaw drops. “Sophie, where are your manners?”
Rolling my eyes, I respond, “Listen, I will go on this stupid date. But only because I feel bad for you finagling this poor man into taking me out. I will not go on a second date, and you will never set me up on a blind date again.”
She purses her lips. “Fine. But can you at least try to be a lady tonight and not order something ridiculous like a margarita?”
“Yes, I’ll pretend to be the debutant you’ve always wanted me to be.” I bat my eyelashes. “Please tell Samantha I’ll be back in a few hours to pick her up?”
“I will, don’t worry. Now you have a good time!” She pushes me toward the door, then disappears into the kitchen.
I take a slow, deep breath before opening the door again. Bradley is leaning against the front porch, his legs crossed at his ankles. He’s a tall man with dark, glossy hair. It’s obviously been gelled into submission. He’s wearing grey trousers with a black leather belt and a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. His oxford shoes match his belt. I definitely look casual compared to him. He has deep brown eyes and his hair has some grey at the temples. He’s a nice looking man, obviously older than me, but probably not more than ten years. I’d guess he’s around forty.
He glances up at me through his dark lashes. “Are you ready now, milady?”
I want to cringe at his use of milady, but stop myself and force a smile instead. Who does this guy think he is, a viscount from a romance novel?
“I made reservations for dinner. I had to pull some strings to get one so last minute. But I made it happen.” He puffs out his chest like he’s very impressed with himself.
Unsure how to respond to that, I reply, “Wow. Must be a popular place.”
“Shall we?” He gestures toward his black Mercedes in the driveway.
