His eyes met mine. “Who’s Sean?”
“My brother,” I answered honestly.
“Your brother? You know he’s black, right?”
My eyes narrowed, and I flipped him the bird. He just smirked.
“Tell me about Tasara,” I demanded. “And do you make a point of taking pictures of all of your contacts?”
“Tasara is my sister, and yes, I do. It’s one of my favorite things.”
“She is not your sister,” I said, laughing.
“Nah, but she’s a really nice girl.”
“How nice?” I asked, wanting some details. I was curious about this man and the way he handled relationships.
“She’s a fucking giver.”
I tapped another name and stumbled upon yet another picture of a different gorgeous face. “What about Rachel?”
“She’s a sweetheart. A really down-to-earth cool chick.”
Next contact. “And Samantha?”
“She’s a doll. Definitely a bit wild.”
“You don’t like wild?” I asked.
He smirked and raised his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “I love wild.”
Of course he did.
“What about JoAnna?”
“She’s a multiples kind of girl.”
“And Ella, is she a wild sweetheart too?”
“All of those girls are sweethearts,” he corrected. “I don’t waste my time on anything else. But Ella did have a bit of a wild streak, too. I tend to migrate toward that kind of woman,” he answered with a knowing glance.
My chest stung—like an actual stinging, burning feeling—and I found my hand rubbing it seeking relief. So many girls, but he didn’t even hesitate to put details to a name. They weren’t all faceless screws; that was apparent.
Was I having a heart attack?
This was definitely something I had never felt before. Fuck, I hated it. I knew that much. And the more I scrolled, the worse the pain got. I looked away from the screen, wanting a reprieve from the torturous feeling, or whatever the hell it was.
I guess if I keeled over while stuffing my face, I’d know the root cause was clogged arteries.
“So, these girls, how does it work? Are they actually cool with the fact that you’re not a one-chick kind of guy? Or is that something you don’t tell them?” I asked, no disdain in my voice. I was honestly just curious.
“Of course, they know the score, honey. I’ve been open and honest with every woman I’ve ever been with. I don’t feed women bullshit lies to get in their pants. Never have and never will.” He set my phone on the table. “And who said I wasn’t a monogamous kind of guy?”
I cocked an eyebrow, sliding his phone toward him. Trapping the phone to a stop, his big hand spanned nearly the entire tiny table. “No one said it. I just assumed you’re more focused on playing the field than actually looking for The One.”
A hard-to-decipher emotion crossed his face, but I knew it wasn’t happiness. There was some sort of sadness lying beneath the surface of his brown eyes.
“I’m not judging, Thatch. Honestly. I’m not exactly known for settling down, either.”
He spun his phone on the table and glanced up at me. “Do you think you ever will?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess if I found the right person, I would. What about you?”
“Same. I don’t have my future mapped out, but I’m always open to possibilities.”
I glanced at the time on my phone and realize I only had about an hour to get home, pack, and get to the airport. “Shit, I better get out of here,” I announced, standing up from my chair.
Thatch glanced around, confused. “You have somewhere to be?”
I picked my purse up off the ground, sliding it over my shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“A flight?” He stood up, grabbing our empty cups and discarded wrappers, and tossed them in the trash can across from our table.
“A few last-minute shoots in the Bahamas. Just found out this morning.”
He looked surprised. “You’re flying to the Bahamas? Today? For a photo shoot?”
“Yeah, ESPN asked me to do a couple of pictorials… I’m pretty sure I’m speaking English right now…”
He ignored my sarcastic retort. “Why didn’t you say anything about it?”
“It just slipped my mind,” I said, walking beside him as we headed out of the coffee shop.
He held open the door. “How long are you going to be gone?”
“Not sure. Three, maybe four, weeks tops.”
Thatch stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. “You’re going to be gone an entire month?”
My face scrunched up in confusion. “Yeah, is that okay?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess so, yeah.”
“Is your boner going to miss me, Thatcher?” I teased.
He chuckled, but he stepped closer to me. “Your tits? Fuck yes. You? Eh, I think I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll even manage to get some work done without you calling my office fifteen times a day.”