The Wrong Right Man(4)

“He hurt me, but he didn’t kill my dream.” I start to chew my nail, but he grabs my wrist to stop me.

“Ever the dreamer.”

“Did you really think some guy cheating on me would change that?” I ask but know in my gut I have doubts about men and relationships that I didn’t have before.

“For a while I did, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t. Shit, I still remember when we were kids and all the stories you would make up.”

I smile at that. “Like when I use to pretend I was psychic and tell other kids their futures?”

“Yeah, and when you would talk for hours about the guy you’d marry, who’d want to adopt ten kids and you’d live in a huge-ass house.”

“I still want that.” I smile, turning to look out the window, then say softly, “Even if I never find the right guy, I want to adopt. I want to give a child or children a home where they know they’re safe and loved.”

“I know you do.” He presses his knuckle against my cheek where my dimple is, making my smile bigger.

________________

“Holy shit, bitch. Look at you!” Maggie, the owner of View—one of the most popular clubs in Seattle—shouts as soon as she spots me sitting on the edge of the stage where Jamie and his band are setting up for their show.

When I met Maggie, I wasn’t sure what to think of her. On first impression, she comes across as aggressive, with her loud personality and outward appearance. She looks like a rock chick, with her white almost silver hair shaved on the sides and longer on the top in an almost Mohawk, makeup that is always extreme, and outfits that make it look like she walked off the set of a ‘90s rock video.

“It’s just jeans.” I hop down to greet her with a hug, and when she lets me go, she grabs my biceps to examine me more closely.

“‘Just jeans my ass. You look hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down or wearing makeup. I’m totally digging the whole vibe you’ve got going on.”

“Thanks.” I can’t help my smile. She’s not the first person who’s complimented me over the last few days, which seems a little odd, since I didn’t do anything to my appearance but change how I was dressing. Then again, it might not be about my clothing. Since Jamie gave me the jacket I’m wearing, I’ve felt like I got a little of my power back.

“Anyway, I was going to ask Jamie for your number, but since you’re here, I’ll just talk to you in person,” she says, getting a look in her eyes that puts me on guard. “Don’t freak out yet.” She takes a hold of my wrist and starts pulling me across the empty dance floor toward the bar. Once we reach it, she plants me on a stool then walks around to the back of the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the top shelf then a salt shaker and a couple slices of lime.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask as she places a glass before me and pours out a shot.

“Not drunk but pliable.” She grins.

“This should be good,” I mutter, picking up the shot and shooting it back before shaking my head at the salt she holds out. But I do take a piece of lime and bite into it.

“Now.” She pours me another shot, and I raise a brow, wondering exactly what it is she has to tell me. I pray it has nothing to do with Jamie. She motions for me to take the second shot, so I shoot it back. “I have a friend I want you to meet.”

“No.” I cough, motioning for her to hand me the second piece of lime she’s holding.

“Hear me out.”

“Maggie.” I sigh, dropping my forehead to my hands resting on the top of the bar.

“He’s a good guy.”

“They’re all good guys until they aren’t anymore.”

“You have a point,” she says, and I lift my head to look at her. “I’m not saying you have to date him, but I want you to meet him. Please.” She holds her hands in front of her in a prayer position.

“Okay.” I sigh.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She rubs her hands together, looking far too happy with herself. “This is going to be great. I promise—he’s nice, and perfect for you.”

“I’ll meet him for coffee.”

“Dinner.”

“Coffee.” I hold firm. There is no way I want to sit through an hour-long dinner with someone I don’t know and don’t like.

“Fine, coffee.” She rolls her eyes. “But when you marry him, I expect to be your maid of honor.”

I snort, knowing that’s not going to happen. “Fine.”

“I’m telling you now; you’re going to thank me. You two are perfect for each other.”

I doubt that, but still I say, “Tell me about him.”

For the next thirty minutes, I listen to her drone on and on about Adam, but if I’m honest, I don’t remember half of what she tells me due to the shots of tequila she continues to feed me throughout our conversation.





Chapter 2


Dakota

MY FOOT BOUNCES as the cab I’m in fights traffic to get me across town, where I’m meeting my blind date for coffee. After my first week of work, the last thing I want to do is go out, but Maggie called me this morning to confirm I still planned on showing up, and I couldn’t tell her no.