One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(68)

Fuck, I feel awkward for her, but I have to appreciate her ability to try to recover. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yep, fit as a fiddle.” She motions with a low fist pump across her body.

“Good.” Scanning the restaurant, I say, “Never thought I’d run into you here. Are you ShopGirl?”

“I am but you can call me, Noely. Noely Clark.” Awkwardly she grabs my hand from my hip and shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

Puzzled, I laugh. “I remember who you are, Noely.”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Her face seems an even brighter shade of red now. A part of me thinks she would be humiliated if she saw how embarrassed she looks, and that’s why I don’t mention it. “This is weird. I, uh, I didn’t think I’d be matched with you, so I’m feeling nervous and intimidated. Because, you know, you’re all hot and whatnot with your hockey body and strong thighs and nice hair. And I’m sure if you turned around right now, I would see your high, tight ass.” Her hands cup together as she pretends to squeeze an imaginary butt. Oh hell.

“Thanks.” I eye the bar behind her. “Started early on the drinks?”

“Maybe. Third blind date and rough day equals more drinks for me.”

That explains it. Should I suggest we do this another night? Or maybe never? It’s not that I don’t like Noely or find her attractive. She’s beautiful, but I kind of feel like I’m cheating on Adalyn, which is ridiculous. It just feels weird.

Although, Noely confessed to this being her third date and having a bad day, I can only imagine how much she would drink if I told her we should go home. From the thin thread of sanity she’s hanging on to, I’m going to assume that isn’t a good idea.

“Got ya. Should we get some food in you so you don’t pass out onto your dinner?” Food will help . . . hopefully.

“Good idea.” Oddly, she bops my nose in agreement. Don’t know what to do with that. I’m going to blame it on the booze.

“Veronica said we have the table in the back.” I guide her wobbly legs past the other patrons in the restaurant, her eyes fixed on a man in a suit having dinner with a woman who’s chest is practically resting on the table exposed for everyone in the restaurant.

Talk about obnoxious tits. Damn, not my cup of tea.

When we reach our table, I help Noely into her seat and then take mine across from her. We’re off to the side, which provides some privacy, and I’m sure it’s going to be necessary with the amount of alcohol Noely has already consumed. If she ends up passing out on her plate, at least we won’t be in the middle of the restaurant, making a spectacle.

“What are the odds we were set up with each other?” I ask, folding my napkin over my lap.

“Great ones.” In an attempt to look like a seductress, she licks the outer rim of her lips and fingers the rim of her water glass.

Yikes.

Trying not to embarrass her, I hide the laugh that pops out of me with a cough, covering my mouth with my arm. Oh Christ.

Is that her sexy face?

Is this her way of showing men she’s interested?

I’m going to guess no. She was entirely more put together than this during our first conversation.

“Eh, these words look all jumbled to me.” Probably because the menu is an inch away from her face. “I’ve had the lobster and the steak on my other dates. What’s left?”

Not having a chance to really look at the menu, I stumble for a few seconds but then say, “Uh, the butternut squash gnocchi with brown butter sauce.”

“Sign me up.” She taps the table and leans back in her chair, hands behind her head, her chair wobbling a little too far back for a second before she catches herself and awkwardly smiles with her eyes wide.

The girl is completely twisted. “How many drinks did you have, Noely?”

Leaning forward in her chair, she shout whispers, “Is my booze showing?”

“Just a little.” I hold up my fingers, showing her just “how little.”

With her hand blocking her mouth from the rest of the dining room, she says, “At least it isn’t my nipple that’s showing.”

Okay, well that’s a positive way of looking at things. Yes, I guess it could be worse if in fact her nipple was showing. Finding humor in her drunk antics, I take a deep breath and allow myself to laugh. Maybe this is just what I need, a little laughter in my life.

“Hey, you’ve definitely got that going for you.”

She lifts her drink and says, “To not showing nipples.”

I can toast to that. “To not showing nipples.”

I’ve been on my fair share of dates. Not that I’m a manwhore, but I like to think I’ve shared a meal with a variety of women. The girls who don’t eat anything, the ones who like to pick at salads, the ones who spend so much time talking they forget to eat entirely, and then there are the women who like to pick off your plate, thinking it’s okay to share food on the first date. It’s not. At least not with me. Let’s get to know each other a little before we’re cutting into each other’s steak.

But with Noely, I’m adding a whole new kind of woman to my dating portfolio.

Sitting across from me, napkin stuffed in her turtleneck, is my very . . . aggressive eating date. It almost looks likes she was recently rescued from a desert island and the minute the waiter put her pasta dish in front of her, she went to town, straight up using her fork as a shovel. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tips back her plate into her mouth like she did with her drink earlier at the bar.