Oh no. Now he’s giving me Pity Eyes. “Yes. That absolutely makes it worse. Do you want to join me and Gretchen for dinner?”
That makes me laugh audibly. “No—thank you, but not in a million years. That would be so embarrassing,” I say, inching my way toward the exit of the restaurant. Will hangs at my side, matching me stride for stride, and I can’t quite figure out why he’s still talking to me. Oh right, pity. “Don’t worry about me. Seriously. I’ll have a spectacular night. There’s a book I’ve really been wanting to finish.”
It’s a half-truth. I will most definitely cry on my way home from the sting of John’s words, but then I do have a steamy romance to finish where a pirate has just stolen a lady, and she’s about to turn his world upside down with witty remarks and a bewitching personality.
“A book,” he repeats incredulously.
“Uh-huh.”
“A book is going to be fun?”
I chuckle as we continue to walk. “Are you one of those nonreaders? The movie is never better, I assure you.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m a nonreader. Reading just hasn’t been on my radar before.”
“But now it is?” I ask hopefully, glancing at him.
“Maybe.” He smirks.
I make it to the door and think this is the moment where Will and I will part ways, but to my surprise, he leans forward, opens the door for me and then follows me out, tossing a glance back at his date and looking for the signal that it’s okay for him to walk me out. She gives him a little wave to go ahead. Nice gal.
The air is hot and muggy like all summer nights in the South, and my heels clip-clop on the concrete sidewalk. I can’t help but laugh. It’s not at all the usual soundtrack of my life. My normal shoe of choice is a pair of white Converses. Attire: one of my five different-color overalls with a T-shirt underneath. If you look up the word comfy in the dictionary you will find a picture of me.
“So which book will it be?” asks Will when we make it to my truck and I pull out my keys.
I laugh lightly. “What?”
“What book are you going to read tonight?”
I glance briefly back at the restaurant, wondering why in h-e-double hockey sticks he’s out here with me trying to join my secret book club instead of back in there with his date. It almost feels like he’s stalling—trying to lengthen our conversation. But no, I’m sure he’s just being kind. There’s no way a man like him would be interested in a woman who was just dumped mid date because she’s unbelievably boring, prettyish, and not even hookup material. I’m sure Will is just paying the nice girl a little attention before going on his way.
I squint an eye and smile. “Well, I’d tell you—but then I’d have to kill you. And I’m really not a fan of murder, so I think I’ll just keep it to myself.”
Will coughs a laugh. He has no idea what to make of me. And that makes two of us because I suddenly realize that I’m standing here having an effortless conversation with Will Griffin and I have no idea how I’m managing it. All I know is that somehow, it’s easy.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you really do have fun reading your book.”
Will opens my truck door and I feel momentarily upset—only because this five minutes with him has already been better than any date I’ve ever been on, and yet I’ll never get to have it again. And now on every date I go on I’ll hope they get the door for me—which they won’t, because half the women in the world hate it when a man gets their door and the other half love it, resulting in the man panicking and cannonballing into his side without ever asking what the woman actually prefers. I’ve never particularly cared either way, but now, after having Will do it for me, it’s decidedly in the like column.
Even worse, I’ll hope my next date has bluish-gray eyes like Will’s—but not just any blue-gray but grayish blue with a thick dangerous rim of black around them. I’m not even sure what that means, I just know I feel it down to my toes that that rim is dangerous.
It’s possible I’m reading too many romances.
I smile. “And I hope you have fun with Gretchen in all your amorous adventures.” Oh gosh. I grimace when Will’s eyes widen.
If it’s not abundantly clear already, I’m a virgin. Just feels important to note in this moment.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. Residual first date awkwardness. I’m going to go before I tell you about the reproduction of flowers.”
Will doesn’t cringe or look away. He smiles fully and it slips right into the fleshy part of my heart, inflating it like an emergency flotation device. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around town, Annie.”
“I guess you will.”
Then I hop up into my truck. But I hop a little too high and slam my head on the doorframe.
CHAPTER THREE
Will
“How’s your job going these days, Annie?” My date blinks back at me with wide eyes, and I immediately realize my mistake. “Gretchen! Shit. Sorry. That was—”
“The second time you’ve done that since you walked her outside,” Gretchen says quietly, but with an edge. She was completely fine with me spending a few minutes with Annie outside, but after the first name slip, things quickly went south. Understandably.
What a douchebag move to call a date by the name of a different woman. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t get Annie Walker out of my head for some reason. I keep spacing out and picturing her soft blue eyes and then realizing I’m just staring at the salt and pepper shaker on the table.
It’s an unresolved attraction, that’s all.
During my stint working in Rome, Kentucky, it was always difficult to not pay attention to the youngest Walker sister. The sweet one, everyone says. The quiet one. The cute one. I’ve heard folks in that town refer to Annie as every possible synonym of those words—but never once did they give her the adjective that always sprung into my head when I saw her: gorgeous.
We’d never really talked before because first, I don’t socialize while on the job, and second, I’ve known since the moment I laid eyes on Annie that I needed to stay the hell away from her. Something about her attracts me in an I-could-get-feelings-for-her kind of way. And I don’t do feelings.
But tonight, I talked to her, and it was a colossal mistake. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Even just that short talk with Annie outside of the restaurant was the most I’ve enjoyed a conversation with anyone in a long time. Which is a problem because I’m currently on a date with a woman I can’t seem to focus on. I just keep thinking about how Annie’s entire face lit up and reflected her thoughts. Her wide eyes. Her pink mouth. Her nervousness. I wanted to talk to her all night. Hell, I would have settled for sitting and watching her read her book. I bet she makes all kinds of faces while reading.
And now I realize I’ve done it again. Gretchen said something, and I don’t know what it was. Shit, I don’t deserve to be on a date with her tonight. “Uh—” I smile at her, trying to search my brain to see if any part of it heard her. “Damn, I’m sorry Gretchen. I’m distracted tonight and missed what you said.” I hate that I’m not giving her my full attention. Annie did something to me—she scrambled my brain.
Gretchen pats her lips with her napkin. “It’s okay, I just said that I got a promotion at my job.”
“That’s great. You deserve it.”
“Yeah,” she agrees and then frowns. “To be honest, Will, I feel like I’m having dinner with a brick wall. Is it because of her? Annie?”
I lie, mostly because I want it to be true. “No. Well, sort of. Annie is a family member of the person I’ll be providing security for again starting tomorrow.”
“Rae Rose,” Gretchen says flatly. “You’ve been her security on and off for five years, Will, it’s not a secret. You can just say her name.”