Page 5 of For Fox Sake

I can’t believe I went on the worst lunch date ever and that tragic event was the highlight of my day.

Demolishing the first package of fruit snacks, I crumple the wrapper and toss it on the coffee table.

Maybe the highlight of my day was the brief moment with the guy at the store, despite the embarrassment of not being able to pay for our food. He was really hot. And obviously generous. I bet he doesn’t chew with his mouth open like the guy I went to lunch with earlier. Or more likely, he does.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that fantasy is always better than reality. If I got to know him, I would probably find out he’s a liar, player, bigot, sociopath, or some combination of all four, like every other guy I’ve attempted to date in the past six years... which to be fair is like, two, but whatever.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. I love this time of night. It’s the only time I have to relax.

The doorbell rings, and I jump to my feet.

I pass the hall to the bedrooms on my way to the front door, ears straining for the patter of Ari’s feet. Once she’s out, she’s a deep sleeper, but still. This better not be one of the tenants. It shouldn’t be. Our address isn’t listed on anything, only my number for emergencies before nine. After nine, it rings to Priscilla since I can’t leave Ari.

I stretch up on my toes to peer through the peephole. Surprise knocks me back on my heels. What the hell is he doing here?

Pulling the door open, I step out on the porch and shut the door behind me.

“Ryan. You’re home.” Rob’s eyes flick up and down my body and my skin crawls.

I threw on sweats and a tank top when Ari and I were doing our bedtime routine. It is not a sexy look, so why is he checking me out like that? I cross my arms over my chest.

Why is my terrible lunch date here? How did he get my address?

“What are you doing here?” Behind him, an unfamiliar gray sedan is parked in front of my house. That must be his car.

Across the street, in front of the newly dubbed “crab shack,” a single light is on in the front window and an old green pickup rests dark and silent against the curb. The renter made it.

The rest of the cul-de-sac is dark and empty.

He holds up a square black object. “You left this at the restaurant.”

My wallet. Relief surges through me. “Oh thank god.” I pluck it from his fingers and flip it open, checking everything inside is intact.

Rob leans in and lifts a hand, pressing his palm flat against the doorframe near my head. “What? You think I would steal from you?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just wanted to make sure nothing fell out, or I didn’t leave my card in the billfold at the restaurant. I’ve done that before.”

“I didn’t even look in there. Well, except to get the address so I could find you.” He leans closer, his breath fanning my face.

Ugh. He stinks like stale beer.

The chicken strips from dinner curdle in my stomach.

He’s not bad looking. He’s thirty, single, blond, and blue eyed, and he has a good job. He just started working with my best friend’s brother at his contracting company building houses. He’s some kind of engineer, so he’s smart. On paper, he’s great.

In reality? Not so much.

During our date, he talked about himself nonstop, forgot his wallet, chewed with his mouth open, and checked his phone every time I opened my mouth to contribute to the conversation.

Not to mention that while he did bring me my wallet and didn’t steal from me, he also hasn’t offered to pay me back for his half of lunch. And why did he wait until nine o’clock at night to bring me my wallet?

He leans in closer. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Ah ha. That’s why. He thought I might fall to my knees in gratitude. Literally. Ick. “No.”

“No?” He blinks, as if baffled by the word.

“It’s not a good time.” Not that I need to explain myself. No is a complete sentence, after all.

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