“Well, they do,” I said. “And the reason is, chefs rarely cook for themselves. It’s like a housecleaner with the dirtiest house on the block. Didn’t you know counselors are the most screwed-up people of them all?”
He shook his head. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“I’m kidding—mostly. But you’re right. I’m jumping way ahead of myself. You might not even want to date me,” I said.
“Hold up,” he replied. Stepping forward, he slid his hand around my waist and pulled me tight against him. “I want to date you,” he whispered.
He kissed the nape of my neck, which sent shivers up and down my spine.
“Only you, Liv. Okay?”
Words failed me, so I nodded.
“But I’m going to need you to get rid of the football player and Don Juan.”
“There is no football player,” I said softly.
Pulling back, he looked at me in confusion. “What?”
“I didn’t go out with him. I never wanted to.”
“Then, why? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Only me, Liv, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then, we will figure out the rest later. Right now, I just want to kiss you again,” he said right before his lips melted back into mine.
I’m okay with that.
Liv
“You’re going on a date with your hot neighbor?” Mia squeaked into the phone.
I moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for one. “Yeah. Am I crazy?”
“To go out with a hot guy on a Saturday? Wait—he’s taking you out during the day?”
I laughed, putting the last smear of almond butter on my toast, as I took a seat on the sofa.
“Yeah, that’s the plan—or at least the only part I am privy to. He won’t tell me where we are going or what we will be doing. He only said to wear comfortable clothes and to be prepared to get dirty.” I shook my head, remembering his early morning phone call.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice coming in clear and vibrant across the airwaves.
I stretched, brushing my legs across the silky sheets. “Good morning,” I greeted, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind.”
“Good. You need to get up,” he commanded.
Laughing, I asked, “And why is that?”
“Because we have plans.”
I didn’t usually go for the bossy type, but on him, it looked good.
“Dirty, huh?” Mia commented. “I want details and pictures—unless they’re kinky. You can keep those to yourself,” she laughed.
Asher’s babbling rang through the phone line, and I heard Mia coo back.
“Someone misses you,” she said.
“Tell him I miss him, too.” I paused for a moment as I looked down at my untouched cup of tea that was turning cold. “Are you sure I’m making the right decision, getting involved with someone so close to me?”
“Isn’t that the whole idea? Getting involved with someone we’re close with, Liv?” she asked.
“You know what I mean.”
She huffed. “Let me ask you something. In the nearly four years since I’ve been back in Richmond, have I ever met a single guy you’ve dated?”
I sat my plate down on the coffee table as my mouth opened to answer. It hung there, wide and empty, as I thought, but I was unable to come up with a single name.
“Well, there was…” I started but stopped.
“No, Liv, there hasn’t been one. We’ve never double-dated. You haven’t brought any of them over here for dinner. Nothing. Why is that?”
This was a jaw-dropping moment.
“I don’t know.”
“You want to know what I think? I think you’re purposely dating the wrong men.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Honestly, I think you’ve been biding your time.”
“For what?” My eyes suddenly drifted over to the small house next door.
“Now, isn’t that the question of the day?”
Our phone call finished up soon after that, and I spent the next hour staring at my closet, wondering why it seemed like everyone in my life had suddenly decided it was their life mission to counsel me.
Did they have degrees to do this kind of shit professionally?
I sighed audibly as I sunk further into my closet, bending over in search of denim.
Why didn’t I own more jeans?
Jackson had said to dress comfortable. On most days, that was my normal attire. Light, airy dresses and skirts were the epitome of comfort. But he’d also said to prepare to get dirty, which required an entirely different outfit.
I needed denim and a T-shirt—two items that were scarce in my closet. While most women could live in jeans, I personally hated them. They were tight, constrictive, and stiff.
My girlfriends thought I was nuts, too.
Biding my time? That was ridiculous.
Mia clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
It was almost as ridiculous as saying I purposely dated the wrong men because I feared they would all leave me like my father.
I froze, nearly tumbling head first into the darkened depths of my closet.
“Oh crap,” I muttered.
Did I really do that?
I stood upright, my eyes becoming unfocused, as I let my mind wander back to all the men I’d dated and dumped over the years.
I was always the one who had broken it off. I was always the first one to walk away.