I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(13)
I glance at his glistening forehead. “Sure. As long as you’re okay with that.”
“Oh yeah. Totally okay with outside.” His eyes drop and bounce back up. Maybe the camisole would’ve been advisable after all.
The hostess leads us to a lovely little table on the outdoor patio, away from most of the other patrons. There are a couple of business meetings taking place, and one or two other couples, but we have a bit of privacy, at least until the rest of the dinner crowd shows up.
The view is spectacular, beautiful sandy beach leading to the ocean, quaint houses dot the coastline, and in the distance, the Mission Mansion rises against the bright blue sky, its once stately splendor diminished by the lack of upkeep. I take the seat facing away from it, so I don’t fixate on it.
We’re still a long way from sunset, but a few clouds streak the sky, and in a couple of hours the view will be devastatingly romantic. At least it could be without sweaty, disheveled Terry sitting across from me.
I ask how his day was and he launches into an animated monologue about an account he’s dealing with. I order a glass of white wine and he orders ginger ale—Terry doesn’t drink—and I attempt to listen. He drones on and on about the subtle nuances of an accounting mistake made by one of the rival firms in Long Island. I’d like to say it’s riveting, but he even makes numbers sound boring.
As the patio continues to fill with dinner patrons my mind wanders, and I start thinking about Pierce, who I haven’t heard from since I cut the check at Starbucks. I want to be glad that he hasn’t messaged or called since then—that means that he got the hint that I’m not interested. But, I begin comparing the two men, which is completely unfair. That’s like comparing an old, withered potato with a perfectly curved, ripe banana.
Movement to my right catches my eye. I glance over in time to see a tall, leggy blonde who looks like a much more proportional, but incredibly beautiful version of a Barbie doll, being led to the table across from us. She has a to-die-for body, wrapped in a pale-blue sundress, and her face is angelic. A man follows a few steps behind, head bowed as he scans his phone. He’s wearing khakis and a crisp white polo, paired with white deck shoes.
I have never seen that combination look so damn good on the male form before. He’s built as hell, the sleeves pulling tight around his biceps and the rear view is magical. I finally make my way up to his face.
A face I recognize. Pierce.
Sonofabitch. I can’t believe he kept pushing for a date and he has a damn girlfriend. A supermodel girlfriend. I bet they have supermodely sex in front of mirrors so they can enjoy the view of themselves.
I get trapped in the forest green of his eyes for a moment. They really are a piercing shade. His name is rather apt. One side of his mouth quirks up. He’s caught me checking him out. Of course he knows how hot he is. And now I’ve boosted his horrible ego with my blatant appreciation, while I’m on a date with someone else. I’m a terrible person.
I realize I’m still staring and that appreciation shifts into a leer of disgust. I can’t believe he’s dating someone so beautiful and has been flirting with me behind her back up until two days ago. What a jerkface. His gaze shifts to my date and his brow lifts as he takes a seat across from Barbie’s real-life sister. I have a disturbingly perfect view of both of them.
“Do you know him?”
Shoot. That’s my date. I turn my attention back to Terry, keeping my voice low. “I’ve done business with him before.” It’s not a total lie.
“Oh.” He nods slowly, eyes darting over to the blonde. “Do you want to say hello?”
I wave a hand around and take a gulp of my wine. “Oh no, he’s a lying a-hole.” I raise my voice and try to focus on my date instead of drilling holes in the side of Pierce’s face with my laser-beam eyes. “So tell me about your plans for the weekend.”
“Oh, well, I’ve got this conference next week in New York, so I’m leaving on Sunday morning. On Saturday I usually take my grandmother lawn bowling.”
I reach out and put my hand over Terry’s, but immediately withdraw because it’s clammy. “That’s so sweet that you do that with her.”
“Have you ever gone lawn bowling?” He’s talking to my cleavage.
Despite my irritation, which I’m unsure I have a right to, considering the dress I’m wearing, I bat my lashes, playing up the sexy angle, especially since Pierce is sitting to the right of me with his model girlfriend. “No. I can’t say that I have.”
“It’s actually a lot of fun. People think it’s just for seniors, but it’s not. I’ve been playing since I was ten. I won the regional tournament last year. I have a trophy and a plaque and everything.”
“Oh wow, that’s great.” I can’t believe I’m on a date with a man who lawn bowls with his grandmother because he likes it. And he thinks he’s a hotshot because he beat a bunch of geriatrics in a tournament.
“Maybe you’d like to come with me?”
I catch myself as I recoil and try to recover, plastering a smile on my face. “You mean this weekend?”
He fidgets with his straw and shrugs, then wipes his lip sweat again. His perspiration problem has amplified while we’ve been sitting here, in the shade. I watch as a bead trickles down his temple and lands on the tablecloth.