Love, Exes, and Ohs (Cactus Creek #4)(20)

Ugh.

But she tried to remain optimistic.

The date went back on track afterward, all things considered. The first four, maybe five minutes were absolutely great. He’d held out his hand for her as they crossed the parking lot to the restaurant, which she’d been pleasantly surprised over.

When their fingers interlaced, however, she was suddenly hit with the realization that when Isaac used to hold her hand, he’d always do this thing where his thumb would brush over the knuckle of her index finger.

It was sweet.

With Bachelor #3, her thumb was resting on the knuckle of his index finger.

It was weird.

Strange how one simple shift could mean the difference between a comforting fit and an awkward grip she had been all too eager to let go of when they got inside.

And that’s when things went really downhill.

…Because her date had been just as eager to let go of her hand. In favor of her ass.

At which point, Xoey had turned around, flashed the brightest smile she could muster and slipped her purse off her elbow into his now air-palming hand. “You’re such a gentleman,” she cooed, with an Oscar-worthy sugary sweet simper. “I don’t know too many guys who’d offer to hold a girl’s purse for her.”

Her hot-red purse did look rather great with his charcoal suit.

But the guy wasn’t quick with the clues.

Because when the hostess showed them to their table, instead of sitting across from her in the booth, he slid in right beside her, sandwiching her against the wall. Usually, this was pretty low on her list of pet peeves, but with Mr. Octopus Hands, she bumped it way the heck up her list.

“So Xoey,” he said after their entrees arrived, “have you given any thought to taking your financial platform for the brewpub to the next level? Franchising perhaps, or international distributions? I’ve got some investors who like to get in on projects like these, businesses like yours, at the ground floor. I’m talking next level here for you.”

Seriously? He was giving her an investment banking spiel?

This was worse than the ass-grabbing.

Speaking of which.

If he slides his hand any higher up the inside of my thigh— Dammit! That’s it! She gave his hand a firm shove.

What was he expecting, to do a little dirty deed under the table?

She got her answer a second later when he reached back down, only this time, to put her spare hand on his lap.

Ew.

This was a first date, for chrissakes.

“Oops,” she called out then, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

“Shit!”

Hiding her grin, she grabbed her napkin and went to work making her little ‘oops’ so, so much worse. If she thought her purse had looked good on charcoal slacks, this look was ten time better.

“Dammit, this is an Italian suit.” Suddenly, the big soap opera smile was gone as he waved his hand at the waitress. “Check!”

Guess that meant no on dessert.

As the date sped toward an unceremonious end shortly after, Xoey couldn’t help but feel vindicated somehow.

Here she was, getting driven home in a BMW by a guy whom, to his credit, was back to polite chit-chat and even a genuine smile or two, despite the mess on his pants.

When he wasn’t ‘on,’ he was actually a pretty normal guy, though it didn’t stay ‘off’ for long. By the time they were back at her apartment, his hand was back on her leg.

“So…raincheck?” he asked as he put the car in park.

She stared at him like he had a few screws loose.

Okay, so the guy was nothing like the man that seemed to have a strange, immovable anchor in her memories. Still, the initial similarities were probably what had her delivering her nicest ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me’ speech to date.

“You’re a good guy, Griffin. And maybe a different time, a different place, we would’ve clicked more. But now’s not that time for me.”

As she entered her apartment and pulled off her stilettos, she found herself thinking again about the man responsible for her first oh.

Only, this time, she allowed herself to actually address the sad, but very true reality of it all.

She still felt an intense one-sided connection to him.

She still looked for him in crowded rooms, wondering if…

She still feared he had a chunk of her heart that she hadn’t even realized she’d given him until it was too late.

She was still hung up on her first and biggest Mr. Wrong.



*



XOEY WAS SETTLING IN bed catching up on her DVR shows when her cellphone rang.

Isaac.

She smiled. “Hey, how’d Tyler do?”

“He won by submission in the first round. A minute fifty-five seconds.”

“No way! That’s incredible! I’m so bummed they didn’t televise the amateur fights tonight.” She turned off the TV and snuggled under the covers. “Wow, submission in the first round—he must be stoked. You must be flying high, too.”

“He is. And I am. He’s worked so hard for this. He really deserved it.”

She could hear how big his grin was in his voice and it thrilled her to no end. Tyler was like a little brother to Isaac, and he’d been training him for almost five years now.

It was no secret that Tyler had had his fair share of run-ins with the law as a kid. He’d been on a bad path until his father had signed him up for MMA training at Isaac’s old gym before he’d relocated to Cactus Creek. The training, and Isaac, had turned the kid’s life around.