I Want You Back (Want You #1)(4)

Another laugh. “I’m definitely not bored with you. Now where am I taking you for our dinner date?”

I smirked. “Pizza Lucé.”

“Hilarious, Luce.”

“I’m serious. That’s where I want to go.”

“For real?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“I figured you’d pick someplace more upscale.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m the pizza and beer type.”

He leaned in. “I’d ask if this was a setup, with you being a sharp-tongued brunette with those big brown Bambi eyes, because you’re exactly my type. But I stopped here on a whim, so I know my friends and family aren’t fucking with me.”

“Mr. Jaxson, your vehicle is ready,” a voice announced via the loudspeaker.

I cocked my head. “You refer to yourself by your last name?”

He shook his head. “Long story that I’ll explain over pizza and beer.”

“Miz Q, your vehicle is ready,” echoed from the loudspeaker.

Jaxson—Mr. Jaxson—whatever his name was—winked. “Lucy Q? What’s the Q stand for?”

“Nothing.”

We stood simultaneously.

“Come on. Tell me,” he urged.

“Maybe, as a single woman in a public venue, I didn’t use my real name or initial as a safety precaution.”

That declaration—a total lie—was worth it to see his smugness vanish.

Outside, the attendants stood by our cars.

No surprise that Mr. Annoying and Tenacious drove a Porsche.

But my eyes were on how spiffy my beloved blue Corolla looked. I smiled at the attendant and slipped him five bucks. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

I looked across the roof of my car to see my date staring at me. “I’d say the last one to arrive at Pizza Lucé has to buy the first round, but my Toyota is at a disadvantage in comparison to that beast.”

“I planned on following you, in case you decided to make a detour.”

“Worried that I might come to my senses and change my mind about this bizarre date?”

“Yep.” He grinned at me. “Lead the way, Lucy Q. I’ll be right behind you.”



* * *



? ? ?

The doorbell rang, pulling me out of the memory.

I slicked on a final coat of lip gloss and went to meet my date.

Damon smiled. “Lucy. You look fantastic.” He handed me a bouquet of mixed flowers.

“Thanks, Damon, they’re lovely.” I stepped back to allow him to come inside. “I’ll just take a minute to put these in water.”

“No rush. Our reservation is at eight. We’ve got time.”

Damon wandered through the main room, looking at the artwork hanging on the walls and the kid stuff that seemed to multiply across every horizontal surface every time I turned around. Points for him that he didn’t react to the chaos that was our living space.

Surprisingly I wasn’t nervous for this official first date. The potential of a second date would create more nerves, since most men never made it past the first date with me.

I’d met Damon at a business function. We’d hit it off and exchanged emails, then phone numbers. We’d met twice after work, so when he’d asked me out for dinner, I’d said yes without hesitation. I liked him. He was low key, but not so low key as to have no personality like some of the business-type guys I worked with.

I arranged the blooms and set the vase on the dining table. “Thank you again for the flowers. Great first-date behavior.”

“You’re welcome.” He frowned. “But this is our third date, counting meeting for coffee once and cocktails once.”

Jaxson’s sexy warning from years ago on our first date echoed in my head . . . “By our third date you will know how perfectly wicked it’ll feel to have my mouth all over you.”

Was that what Damon was hoping for? By assigning this outing a number? So if we made it to date five, then I’d fall into bed with him because it was time?

Wrong.

And here was yet another reminder of why I didn’t date. I managed a smile. “Semantics.”

Then he looked around. “Your daughter isn’t here?”

Here was the awkward part. If I said she was with her father for the weekend, would he take that as the all clear for an adult sleepover? Or did I lie about having a babysitter so if the night sucked I could use Mimi as an excuse to end the date?

After I opted for a simple “No,” Damon smiled. “Maybe I’ll get to meet her next time.”

“Maybe. For now, let’s go. I’m starving.”





Two





JAX




I shifted Mimi off my back to punch in the alarm code for my apartment.

She scooted inside with a happy, “Yay, my princess room,” and disappeared into the bedroom I’d let her decorate however she wanted, which meant an explosion of pink and purple, sequins, lace, satin ruffles and a canopied bed fit for . . . well, a princess.

Since my return to Minneapolis six months ago, I’d been temporarily living in Snow Village, the two-building apartment complex for professional athletes who specialized in “winter” sports that my cousin Jensen Lund owned. It fulfilled my security requirements, and the complex had plenty of kids for Mimi to play with when she stayed with me.