The Trade(16)

One thing I like about Roger? Uh . . . Sweat forms at the base of his neck, his lips tremble, and I watch as he fidgets in his seat, as if he has an itch in his butt crack that he’s trying to inconspicuously scratch.

Think of something . . . think of something.

Aha.

I lean forward and say, “I like the way you smell.”

Simple. He did smell nice when I first met him at the bar. Who’s to say what he smells like now, given the excessive sweat he’s been excreting since sitting down, but at least when I first met him, I thought his cologne was nice.

“You like how I smell?” he asks, giving me a weird look.

“Umm, yes.”

“Huh.” He ponders that. “Well . . . I just smell with two nostrils like the rest of us.”

. . .

Oh Roger.

It was nice knowing you.





“Seriously? You have ten siblings?” I ask Lance, starting to actually feel good about this date. Finally. Smart, funny, good job, and he loves the Bobbies, can’t get any better than that.

Plus, he has a really great body, at least from what I can tell. I keep telling myself not to get too excited, because the last two weeks have been dating hell. I’m almost waiting for the other foot to drop.

“Yup, ten. And one bathroom for all of us. I don’t know how we all survived.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I have two brothers and we had two bathrooms between us, and we still fought. I can’t imagine what growing up in your household would have been like.”

“Not easy.” He smiles and starts to lean forward to grab my hand when the waitress moves between us.

“Here.” She practically slaps the medium pizza between us, startling me backward.

Like every other time she’s been to our table, the waitress eye-fucks my date again and then hands him the garlic shaker that’s on the table. “Use it,” she says under her breath, just loud enough that I can hear her.

Awkwardly, Lance looks up at her, swallows hard, and starts dousing our pizza in garlic. And not just a sprinkle, but as if he’s trying to create a garlic blanket to keep our pepperoni pizza warm.

“Umm, I think that’s enough,” I say, concerned my tongue might fall off with one bite.

“More,” the waitress mutters, and Lance shakes the garlic feverously over the pizza until there’s a small pile in the middle. Good God, man, slow down on the vampire repellant.

When he stops, she gives him a curt nod and then takes off.

Unsure about what just happened and a little nervous that she might be able to hear me, I lean forward and whisper, “What the hell was that about? Our pizza is ruined.”

Unfazed, he picks up a slice and bites into it. Studying the pizza, he answers, “She didn’t want us kissing at the end of the night. She thinks garlic will stop me.”

“Umm . . . why would she care if we kissed?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “That’s my girlfriend.”

Blinks.

Leans back.

Blinks some more.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend. She loves getting jealous.” As if we’re sharing a secret, he lifts his hand and talks behind it. “You’re really pretty, which was the first thing to set her off, but the fact that you’re easy to talk to as well, oh yeah, she’s going to suck my cock so hard tonight. Thanks for doing this for me. Angry foreplay is the best kind of foreplay, am I right?”

I toss my napkin on the table and gather my purse. “Un-fucking-believable.”





“Why are you all dressed up?” I ask when Jason opens the door. “Please don’t tell me you’re going out on a date?”

Wearing a tailored suit that spans his broad shoulders, Jason shows off his backside and says, “My ass looks amazing in these pants, doesn’t it?”

“Stop showing your butt off to your sister,” Dottie says, coming up to the door with her purse in hand, wearing a gorgeous purple dress that hits her right above the knees. She looks me up and down and asks, “Oh, are you coming to the party too?”

“What party? Are you two leaving? I was really hoping to drown my dating sorrows in some of your homemade ice cream.”

Jason got an ice cream maker from Dottie for Christmas and he’s spent the last two weeks making every concoction you can think of . . . and perfecting them. It’s to the point now where I crave his ice cream, and I hate admitting it, but after my date just used me as a tool for angry foreplay, I needed some.

“We’re headed to the Rebels new year party,” Jason says. “It’s to kick things off with the new players and families before we head to spring training. Come with us.”

I shake my head. “No, there is no way I’m in the mood to talk to a bunch of Rebels players. I’m going home.”

“Nope,” Dottie says, looping her arm through mine. “Not going to happen. There are a lot of single Rebels players. This would be the perfect time to meet a good guy.”

“They are Rebels, so none of them are good guys.”

“That’s not true,” Jason counters. “I’ve met quite a few, and they’re not all bad.”

“See?” Dottie says. “You’re coming.”