Mia frowned. “Why not? There are tons of women here.”
Once again, Noah spoke quietly to her and she leaned into him with a smile. One more of those and Graham might need to relocate. He was glad they were happy and all, but he could only take so much.
“Noah and I worked hard today. I just want to relax tonight,” he lied. He wasn’t too tired to have fun, but the person he usually had it with wasn’t here.
They stayed for another hour then parted ways, and as Graham approached the condo and prepared to turn into the driveway, movement on the porch caught his attention.
Claire stood there with a man. The overhead light cast a soft yellow glow across their shoulders, and by all appearances this was an end-of-the-date drop-off. Claire had gone all out for this one—wearing one of her nicest dresses and heels. For a girl whose standard work and home uniforms consisted of scrubs and a T-shirt with leggings, respectively, a dress was high praise indeed.
Not wanting to interrupt, Graham continued past the driveway and parked along the street just beyond as if he were a neighbor. He put it in Park but left the engine running, glancing at the rearview mirror. Claire’s back was to him and the guy, whom Graham didn’t recognize, was in plain view. He was tall and lanky with light-colored curly hair. Glasses framed his eyes and he smiled down at Claire with a sort of shy expression. Claire put her hands on his shoulders and he jolted forward a little, then paused, as if suddenly unsure what he was supposed to do.
Graham winced. This was awkward as hell.
Claire’s date moved closer and put a hand on her back—way too high, if you asked Graham, and finally kissed her. It lasted all of two seconds before they separated.
Graham shook his head. If a woman was worth kissing, she should be kissed with conviction and purpose.
The guy made overly enthusiastic hand gestures as he said something, and nodded before hopping down the steps to his car, looking entirely too pleased with himself for the most pathetic good-night kiss in the history of ever.
Graham waited until the dude was down the street before he reversed and pulled into his usual spot.
When he walked in, Gertrude immediately leaped off the couch to greet him, tail wagging. He bent to pick her up with a single hand, planting a kiss on the top of her furry head, murmuring, “How’s my girl?” She wiggled in his grip, licking his face and tapping at his chest with her feet, and he set her down.
Claire waited in the kitchen with a glass of water.
She eyed him and leaned on the counter as he approached her. “I know you saw that.”
“And now I know why you didn’t come out tonight. You were on a date with Napoleon Dynamite.”
“He doesn’t look li—” She stopped and put her glass down, dropping her arms to her sides. “Dammit.”
Graham chuckled. “So how was it?”
“It was nice.”
“Nice?”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“And that kiss?”
She looked away. “It was fine. First kisses are always a little awkward.”
“They don’t have to be.”
Pursing her lips, Claire’s brows rose. “You mean to tell me you nail all your first kisses? No one’s that good.”
“No, you’re right. Some are awful. But with the right person and at the right moment, a first kiss can be pretty awesome.”
She looked skeptical, and Graham tilted his head as he regarded her. “You’ve seriously never had a first kiss that knocked the wind out of you?”
“I guess not,” she said, sounding disappointed. “It’s probably me. I get in my head and can’t focus.”
Graham frowned. “Maybe it’s the guys you’re kissing. When I kiss a woman, she’s definitely not thinking about anything except what’s going on here.” He tapped his lips and Claire’s gaze followed his finger. He grinned. “Or...elsewhere. You know, depending on the situation.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like an arrogant asshole, you know that?”
“Maybe,” he allowed, enjoying the spark of challenge in her eyes. “But if I can back it up, what does it matter?”
“Good kisser or not, women don’t like assholes.”
“Some of them do.”
“Fine. I don’t like assholes.”
He laughed and hopped up onto the counter, letting his legs dangle. “You’ve got four years to come to terms with sleeping with one.”
A hint of insecurity crossed her features. “You seem awfully certain I won’t be married by then.”
“If you keep going out with guys like Napoleon, you probably won’t. A guy like that isn’t right for you.”
“His name isn’t Napoleon.”
“What is it?”
“Marvin.”
He choked on air. “No, it’s not.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Don’t make fun of him.”
“You’re not marrying a guy named Marvin. What’s his last name?”
“That’s not important.” Yeah, that didn’t make him less interested at all. “You don’t know anything about him.” Her voice lacked heat, but Claire wasn’t the type to back down from an argument, no matter how small.
“Fine, I’m judging the dude based on appearance, a weak-ass kiss, and your less-than-enthused description of the date. But from that information alone I’d bet my next paycheck you were bored to death.”
Her lips twisted to the side and she looked down at her feet.
“Am I right?”
“Maybe. A little.” She sighed. “But it was a first date. Shouldn’t I give him another chance?”
“If you want to. Or don’t waste your time and come out with me next weekend instead.”
Her eyes went wide. “On a date?”
He huffed out a laugh. “No. I meant, like, our usual. We’re pretty good at finding people for each other. Remember that chef I scoped out for you last year? You were with him for a few months, right?”
“Sam? Yeah, until he ghosted me.”
“Seriously? You didn’t tell me that.”
She snorted. “You want me to tell you every time a man screws me over?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You gonna defend my honor?”
“Maybe. Friends do that, right?”
“I’d certainly punch Noah if he ever hurt Mia.”
“He’d die before he hurt her.”
Claire smiled softly. “I know. Anyway, I saw Sam not too long after he stopped answering my texts, and you know me... I marched up asked him what happened. Talk about awkward, but I wanted him to tell me to my face what went wrong. He said I was too outspoken and he realized he’d never be able to take me home to meet his mother.”
“Dumbass,” Graham muttered. His mom would adore Claire—all the more reason for them never to meet. He didn’t need that kind of pressure.
He tried to remember anything else about that guy, but Graham had only spent time with him a few times when he’d tried to show off and cook dinner for the entire house. “His food sucked, anyway.”
“No it didn’t. It was fucking delicious.”
She was right.
“Add that to the list of reasons men don’t want me. I can’t cook,” she said.
“So?”
“Don’t men want a woman who cooks?”
Graham waved a dismissive arm. “Who cares? There are dozens of places that deliver within a five-mile radius of here. I say it’s better to support local businesses.”
“Well. You’re a minority in that, I think.” She looked at him for a moment before pushing off from the counter. She nudged his knee and gave him a small smile. “I’m gonna head to bed. Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”
“Trying?”
“Okay, thanks for making me feel better. A little.”
Gertrude growled from her perch on the armchair as Claire passed.
“Thinking about marrying me now, aren’t you?” he called after her.
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Not a chance.”
3
One week later, Claire sent Graham a text message halfway through her shift that said, I hate you.