Page 160 of Home Game

“Would you like to get a table?”

“Here is fine,” she smiled and sat too close on the seat beside me.

We ordered her a glass of wine and another beer for me.

I asked a few general questions, which resulted in her oversharing. I let her words wash over me as I studied her face.

Cute nose, wide green eyes, high cheekbones, great teeth. She knew how to apply makeup. Her gloss and sheen were artfully applied to highlight her features.

She paused and smiled.

“That’s amazing,” I said, looking at her mouth. “Tell me more.”

So she talked, and I nursed my beer.

I worked to concentrate on what she was talking about. Her job. Something about a new program she was developing for kids. She seemed passionate about it.

She didn’t ask me a single question about myself and for that I was grateful. I wasn’t sure I could fake interest if I had to take part in this conversation. I found that if I kept my eyes on her face and made enough eye contact, she seemed content to carry the entire conversation.

When she finished her second glass of wine, she leaned forward and touched my knee. “I think I’m ready to go.”

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab here.”

Historically, that was my cue to offer her a ride home. But tonight, I said, “Let me help you catch a cab.”

Disappointment flashed over her face. I paid our bill and then walked her outside and flagged her a cab.

We stood in front of it, the backdoor open.

“I had a great time,” her voice was husky. She stepped closer.

What the hell.I bent down and kissed her.

My dick remained as limp and sad as if I had drunk an entire bottle of vodka.

I stepped back. “Have a good night.”

I opened the front door and passed a fifty to the driver. “Make sure she gets home safe.”

Saying nothing else, I shut the door after her and then walked away.

Instead of driving home, I drove by Zoey’s apartment. All the lights were off.

Was she home and asleep? Or was she out enjoying another guy’s company?

The thought made me sick. I turned around and drove home, wishing for the thousandth time that things were different.

“How was Michelle?”Mica asked me as we suited up for our first playoff game.

“I think she only wanted to get laid.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that was the point.”

“Wasn’t interested.”

“You prefer brunettes?”

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