Page 13 of Some Saviors Can Break You

Forcing himself to focus, he asked, “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” she said with exaggerated patience, “that dinner was superb, I think we should order dessert.”

He’d done his time, sat here for the last hour, he’d done his duty, it was time to cut and run. “Actually, I think I'm going to head off. Still dealing with jetlag,” he lied.

“Haven't you been back for months? Why are you still suffering jetlag?” Patricia demanded, clearly annoyed.

Eli just shrugged. Guess it was his lazy lion side coming out. He was done with this date, and if she didn't want to believe his lame lie and bow out gracefully then he’d just go with blunt. “Look, Patricia, I agreed to this date because your brother said that you’d wanted to meet me. It was never going to be more than one dinner. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do you have a ride home or should I call you a cab?” He might not be into the date or feel bad for his bluntness, but he wouldn’t leave a woman alone without a safe way home.

“I’ll call a cab myself.” She glared at him, and it was clear she was frustrated that things hadn't worked out the way she’d wanted.

“Okay, I’ll text your brother to let him know we went our separate ways at the restaurant.”

Leaving Patricia at the table, he paid the bill and texted his driver to say he was ready to be picked up. His car was rounding the corner by the time he stepped out into the chilly night, and as he slid into the back seat, he realized something. If this date had shown him anything, it was that his interest in women in general had waned, but his interest in one particular woman had grown.

Florence intrigued him in a way that no other woman did. The desire to strip her bare—metaphorically—and learn every single one of her secrets was all he could think about. It was like she had cast a spell over him, possessed him, and now he was powerless to resist.

Now he had to decide.

Let her walk away or fight for her.

Put like that, it was a simple choice.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he called Florence.

“Eli,” she groaned when she answered. “How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going on a date with you?”

Despite the rejection, he was grinning because she’d obviously saved his number in her contacts if she’d known it was him. “I went out on a date tonight,” he announced.

The pause was long enough that he had to check that the call was still connected.

“Okay. Why are you telling me that?”

“Because on the date I realized something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“That the only woman I want to go on a date with is you.”

“Why?”

“Because you intrigue me, you’ve piqued my interest. There’s something you should know, Florence.”

“What?”

“Once I set my mind to something I get it. And right now, my mind is set on you, so you can consider yourself the focus of my wooing.”

“Wooing?” She chuckled. “What are you? A ninety-year-old man?”

“My dad always used to say that to my mom.” He smiled at the memory. “He’d always say just because we’re married doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be wooed.”

“Used to?”

“They both passed away in the last eighteen months.”

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