Page 14 of Connor

“Door is that way.” I nod in the direction of the back of the room, and she huffs before grabbing her handbag and walking out. I lean back in my seat and push out a deep breath and let the last hour or so wash away from me. This is why I generally don’t date. Women expect more from me, more of my money, more of my contacts, more, more, more.

While the game in front of me continues, I sit fuming, wondering what Daisy’s doing. I feel on edge the entire time. Wanting to look back to see her but forcing my head to remain facing forward. I told her I’d give her the weekend, but I’m itching to talk with her. Talk business, talk spa, talk about her, listen to her thoughts on things. She’s captivating. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and look up, expecting her, but it’s the male waitstaff, serving me snacks and another whiskey. Frowning, I spot her standing at the bar, polishing glasses, not looking in my direction. Completely ignoring me. Then she goes through a door out the back, and I internally curse.

I turn back around, my leg bouncing with pent-up energy. I leave my food to go cold as the game starts up again, and I watch the teams tussle it out. The game is tight, scores are even, and I stay right where I am, even though I’m itching to get out of this seat. I look back a few times, and each time I don’t see her, I get even more worked up. There’s a timeout called, and I look at the screen, seeing only minutes left to the game. The teams are tied, the tension in the stadium high, yet I’ve barely registered the play. I jump up, not able to stop myself a minute longer as I stride to the bar, my steps quick as I see her there, and she looks up.

“Can I get another whiskey, please, Daisy?” I ask her, feeling like a piece of shit.

“Certainly, sir,” she says professionally, and I shake my head.

“Connor,” I correct her as I watch her grab my favorite whiskey, one that’s over ten grand a bottle, and she pulls the lid off like it’s done her dirty.

“I need to address all clients here as sir.” She’s not making eye contact, and I look quickly at the male staff member, who’s farther back, pretending not to listen. I clear my throat.

“I would like to apologize—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.

“No need, sir.” Giving me a fake-ass smile, she slides the whiskey over the bar in my direction.

There’s no way she didn’t hear what Bethany said earlier. I should’ve come straight to apologize then.

“No, I do—”

“No, you really don’t.” She stands firm. She’s strong, has a solid backbone, seemingly not caring what others think of her.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Not giving me an inch, she slides the glass again, closer to me, like I hadn’t already seen it the first time she offered it.

“What are you doing here? I mean, I thought you worked at the wellness center?” I ask again, my head a scramble, not sure why I feel so out of sorts. I blame her. Since the minute I met her, I haven’t been myself.

“I’m just filling in for a friend,” she states, and I breathe out, my shoulders lowering. That makes sense, and I'm relieved to have an answer that isn’t full of bite.

“Have you thought about my offer?” I ask, not wanting to push her, but I’m not used to waiting.

“A little,” she says honestly, her lips tilting up at the sides, and I don’t know why, but that subtle movement has my full attention.

“And?” I ask, the two of us playing a bit coy, and I equal parts love it and hate it. I hate it because I’ve never worked this hard for a woman to seem interested in anything I have to offer, and love it, because I feel like she’s making me work for her.

“And you told me to call you Monday so… I have another day.” Wiping down the counter, she gives me a smirk that tells me this woman isn’t going to be a pushover. I pause with appreciation as we look at each other, my stare burning into hers, neither of us relenting. I swear I feel my dick jolt in my jeans, because she’s a fucking firecracker, and I want to burn under her flames.

I hear it then. The crowd screams, the game starts up again, and both our eyes avert from each other as I turn around to see what I missed and she turns and looks at the clock. I stride back down to my seat at the balcony to look out and see that the Jets scored a touchdown, and with only a few seconds remaining, they win the game. My smile spreads, and I look back at the bar to celebrate with her, but she’s gone.

Only the male server remains. Daisy is nowhere in sight, and I deflate immediately.

I throw back the whiskey and place the glass on the bar, feeling bereft. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m intrigued by a woman, and she has completely disappeared on me. But she has my number and another twenty-four hours left to call me.

And if she doesn’t, I know exactly where to find her.

7

DAISY

Istand leaning against the kitchen counter, strong aromas filling my senses.

“Pass me the turmeric, please, Daisy?” my mom asks, and I lean over, grabbing the freshly ground spice as my mouth waters. She’s in the zone; she loves cooking, and her dahl is amazing.

“What’s Dad doing?” I ask, peeking out the window at my father, who looks to be attempting some handyman work outside, and handy is one thing my father is not.

“Fixing the lock on the gate. It broke last week.” Not looking at me, she stirs the curry.

“Does he need some help?” I ask as I see him give up on it already and walk back inside.

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