The Dating Proposal(35)
Done with the waves.
Done with the water.
And done with her being out there.
I trudge my way to the shore, load up my board, and get in my car.
I call her.
Texting is for guys who don’t know what they want.
22
McKenna
I gather my purse and keys as I finish the instructions for Ms. Pac-Man. “Now feel free to enjoy the window view, but don’t go crazy if you see Michelangelo.”
She tilts her head like she doesn’t know who I mean.
“Don’t play coy with me. You know who he is,” I whisper conspiratorially. “The horny pug.”
She growls at the little perv every time he walks by. He tried to hump her once in public.
She lifts her chin higher, asking for a rub. I oblige, scratching her fur. “I know. You’re a lady dog. You don’t like his cavedog routine.”
She whacks her tail against the floor in reply. Damn straight.
With my phone stuffed at the bottom of my trendy periwinkle-blue Kate Spade purse—since I don’t like when people spend more time on their phones than with the actual company they’re keeping—I meet Hayden and catch a Lyft to The Tiki Bar in Fillmore, where we search for Erin and Julia at the venue serving tapas and big, fiery drinks.
The second we find them in a corner booth, Erin shoves a flaming red beverage at me.
I arch a brow. “Vas is das?”
Erin smiles impishly. “Who cares? It’s delish.”
Julia nods. “It has the bartender seal of approval.”
I taste it—it’s tangy and sweet with a fiery kick. “Tequila and cherry?”
“Something like that. Sort of like you,” Erin says, her big earrings jangling.
“How am I tequila and cherry?”
“You’re sweet on the outside, and all sorts of fierce on the inside.”
I take another drink, considering. Is that me? Am I sweet but full of fire? If I were, wouldn’t I have ignored Andy’s call, grabbed Chris by the collar, and said Take me out tonight?
But I didn’t because I’m only three dates into my new world order, and I still don’t know the next steps in the dance. Maybe it’s easier to be alone. It’s certainly safer. Especially since he’s not dating people he works with, and I’m not ready for something serious.
I do my best to push Chris from my mind. The ear-splitting beat of pop tunes overhead does its part.
Erin taps a lacquered red fingernail on the table. “So . . . what’s the story? Am I setting you up with the cyclist?”
I shrug. “Can I take a rain check? I’m sort of in a time-out at the moment.”
“Already?”
Hayden jumps in. “Hey, dating is hard. Our girl managed three dates in the last two weeks, not to mention all those non-dates with Chris.”
Warmth rushes over me at the mention of his name.
Erin motions with her fingers, wiggling them towards her. “Give me the goods. I’ve been slammed at work the last few days.”
As I serve up the deets, we go into a full-on girl huddle. We crowd around the table, tuck in, shoulders hunched. When I’m done with the update, Erin shakes her head in admiration. “I’m impressed.”
“At what?” I ask, incredulous.
“At your restraint.”
“I should have humped him at the table in the taco bar? Like Michelangelo, the horny pug?”
Erin cracks up, slapping the table. “You could totally go full horny pug on him.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m just saying. Michelangelo knows what he wants.”
“My dog does not want to be humped by a rando.”
“I don’t think Chris is a rando.”
“You, my friend, are too sex-crazed.”
She furrows her brow. “No such thing. I just happen to like sex on the regular. Pete and I have a very healthy sex life, and I think you’d rather enjoy having one too.”
“Oh, you think so? Is that it? Like that never occurred to me before.”
She knocks back more of her drink then pats my hand, her tone shifting to earnest. “Actually, you have a healthy attitude. You’re approaching getting back on the wagon in a thoughtful manner. You’ve re-entered the dating world with panache, I’d say.”
Julia raises a glass. “To panache.”
“To our man shield,” Erin jokes, as she gestures to our positions and the way we’ve blockaded the rest of the bar.
Hayden draws a circle in the air with her finger. “There is no man strong enough to penetrate our force field of woman-dom.”
“Can you even imagine who’d have the cojones to try to inject himself into this huddle?” I ask, smiling and grateful that I’m enjoying a night out with my best friends. I like, too, that I can do this without needing a man, looking for a man, or hurting over one. “Just let someone try to tell me to cancel this girls’ night.”
A masculine voice interrupts our reverie.
“I’d tell you to cancel it.”
When I look up, Chris is there, staring at me with a hot green-eyed gaze that makes me flush.
All. Over.