Soaring (Magdalene #2)(54)

I looked to her in surprise.

“Me go to him?” I asked.

“He laid it out,” she said by way of answer. “You got your bitches with you. Don’t make him come over here and lay it out in front of your bitches. It’s already hard enough to put himself out there, buyin’ a drink for a beautiful woman, settin’ himself up for a crash and burn seein’ as he’s cute but you’re all that’s you. Don’t make it harder.”

I saw her point (though I might not have entirely agreed about “all that’s me”) but I didn’t like this.

And it struck me that I didn’t like this because I was me.

I was greedy.

I wanted it all.

I wanted a man who had confidence enough in himself not to lay it out but to lay it out. I wanted a man who looked at me and was so drawn to me he’d put himself out there for me. He took the chance to walk over to me with my friends and show me how much he wanted me. I wanted a man who would demonstrate he wanted me so much, he’d do anything to have a shot with me.

He’d buy me a drink.

He’d walk over and speak to me.

He wouldn’t give one thought to “shitting where he lived” because he was my neighbor. Instead, he’d want me so badly he’d throw caution to the wind just for a chance to be with me.

That’s what I wanted.

And that was what I would get or I’d take nothing.

Shock of shocks, I was okay being alone in my big house with mostly me as my company. I wasn’t going to settle for just anybody so I’d be less lonely because I was no longer lonely.

I was just alone.

And I was fine with that.

“If he wants me,” I mumbled, lifting the drink he bought me to my lips and before taking a sip I finished, “He can come and get me.”

“Well, batten down the hatches, babe, ’cause here he comes,” Alyssa stage-whispered loudly.

My body locked.

“Ladies,” a smooth male voice said.

I took my sip, luckily not choking, and swiveled on my stool.

He was right there, smiling at me then he looked beyond me. “If you’ll get these other ladies a drink and put them on my tab.” He looked from the bartender to me. “I’d like a moment with you to introduce myself privately.”

He lifted his hand to me.

I looked into his blue eyes that were not as beautiful as Mickey’s but they were still handsome.

Then I looked to his hand, which was not as strong as Mickey’s, and not rough at all, but it was a nice hand.

And of its own accord, my hand lifted and my fingers curled around his.

He gripped them and helped me off my stool.

I took my drink with me as he kept hold of my hand and walked me back to where he had been sitting.

As I walked, I glanced over my shoulder to see Josie beaming and Alyssa mouthing, “Go get him, tiger.”

I grinned at them and allowed myself to be led away.

His name was Bradley.

* * * * *

My phone was ringing as was my doorbell.

I grabbed the phone, seeing the number was not known but local, and since there were a lot of things happening and the call could have to do with any of these, I took the call as I rushed to the door.

“Hello?”

“Amy?”

Not Mickey.

Boston.

Shit.

It had been three days since our date.

Player move.

Boring.

“Boston,” I said, unlocking the door and opening it to a man standing there in paint spattered, white coveralls. I lifted a one minute finger to him then rolled my whole hand, stepping back and inviting him inside. He came in and I kept talking, “I’m so sorry, but I’m in the middle of something and have someone waiting.”

“That’s too bad, but do you have time to tell me you’re free tomorrow evening?” he asked.

I was.

“I’m sorry, I’m not,” I lied.

“I’m out of town on Friday and I’ll be gone a few weeks.”

Brilliant news.

My “Oh,” was noncommittal.

“I’ll call you while I’m away.”

Not brilliant news.

“I have some things happening, a number of them, I’m going to be very busy,” I shared, and that was the truth.

“We’ll find a time, Amy.”

God, I really, really wished I hadn’t told him to call me Amy.

I also wished he’d catch a hint.

“Right,” I said distractedly. “I really have to go.”

“We’ll speak later.”

“Okay.”

“Good-bye, Amy.”

“’Bye, Boston,” I mumbled then hung up and looked at the painter who I hoped would give me a decent quote for painting my massive, multi-million dollar house.

And I smiled.

* * * * *

After our date, I was on my front step making out with a handsome blond named Bradley.

He wasn’t boring. He was actually quite nice, very attentive, well-to-do enough to take me to a lovely place for dinner, including ordering a very nice bottle of wine, without hitting me over the head with all of this.

Thus I’d wanted him to kiss me.

He didn’t taste minty.