Page 19 of Sweet Passions at Bayside
“Then why aren’t you going out tonight?”
“Who says I’m not going out?”
She set her hands on her hips and her expression turned serious—or annoyed—he couldn’t be sure.
“Dean Masters, are you holding out on me? I tell you about all my dates.”
He chuckled.Annoyedit was.
“So…? Who is she?” She crossed her arms and thrust out her hip.
“Who?”
“Your date. Geez!”
“Who says I have a date? Drake’s coming over for a cookout.”
“But you just said—”
“Don’t assume.”
“Whatever. You can tell me if you have a date, you know.”
“And I have many times,” he reminded her as she headed toward the door. “Don’t you need your keys? A purse? Your phone, just in case…?” And here he thought she was prepared for anything.
She bent at the waist and fiddled with her heel, opening some sort of secret compartment in the wedge. She curled her fingers around something and did the same to the back of her other heel.
She popped upright holding her keys in one hand and her phone in the other. “Never underestimate a resourceful woman, big guy.”
He wondered what else she was hiding. His fingers itched to go on a treasure hunt and explore every inch of her until he discovered all her most covetedsecret spots.
EMERY GAZED INTO the crowd as Dave rambled on about being a stockbroker, which she had decided more than two hours ago was the most boring job on earth. Or maybe she was just out with the most boringmanon the planet. Since he’d asked her what she did for a living, only half listening to her answer, every conversation had revolved around him and his stellar ability to select solid investments. Investments she didn’t give a hoot about. Then there was the issue of his wandering eyes. Throughout dinner, and while they’d been dancing, he’d ogled nearly every woman in the place. Luckily, the Beachcomber was built on a bluff overlooking the ocean, and there was enough of a chilly breeze sweeping up the dune to douse the hot air coming from his blowhole, and the glorious view gave her something to disappear into.
Her mind wandered back to Dean and their time together yesterday afternoon. They’d had such a good time, well, other than her pulling his flowers, but replanting them was fun. And last night when they’d danced together, his eyes had never once strayed. It had all been so easy. So friendly. She’d much rather hang out with him than with this guy. But didn’t that confirm what she’d known for a while now? She was much better at friendships than she was at dating. Either she chose the wrong guys, or she messed up somewhere along the way by simply being herself. She’d heard it all—she was too flirtatious, too outgoing, toounfiltered. She might be overly friendly, and maybe some people saw that as flirtatious, but that was their problem, not hers. In a world where political affairs created anxiety so palpable they practically deserved their own state to live in, how could a person betoooutgoing or friendly? And toounfiltered? That one really pissed her off. So what if she was overly confident and said what was on her mind?
She turned her attention back to Dave, who didn’t seem to notice her zoning out and was now spouting off about his personal investments and setting himself up to retire in twenty years. What was he? Twenty-eight or -nine? She couldn’t imagine wanting to stop working that young. She wanted to domorewith her life, not less.
She took a moment to really study him. He was a handsome guy, with classic good looks and a nice body. She was sure some women would be all caught up in the idea of retiring young and doing whatever guys like him enjoyed doing, but he hadn’t paid a lick of attention to her, and she wasthis closeto ending the date. Not that she needed a lot of attention, but was it too much to want two-sided conversation and a few laughs?
Dave’s eyes finally landed on her, and she forced a smile. Maybeshewas the boring one. Yoga wasn’t exciting to people who didn’t practice it, but there was more to her than what she did for a living. Maybe he was sitting there trying to think of a reason to leave, too.
She nixed that ridiculous thought instantly and, in the same breath, decided she was done with this date.
He leaned closer, his blue eyes darkening as he put his hand on her thigh and said, “What do you say we get out of here and head back to my place?”
Laughter fell from her lips before she could stop it. “Are you serious?”
He cocked a smile that told her just how serious he was.
Unbelieveable.
She pushed his hand from her leg, suddenlyneedingto know what had led him to believe he could get her to go back to his place—into his bed?—after the horrendous date they’d just shared. She opened her mouth to ask, and something Dean had said to her over the winter stopped her. She’d made a smart-alec remark to something he’d said when she’d complained about the guy she had gone out with, and he’d said,Doll, when the right guy comes around, you won’t need to spend your energy on all those snarky comebacks.
She’d like to believe her dating history was riddled with the wrong guys and assume Dean was right. But she knew better.Shewas the problem, because she was the only person making the decisions about who she went out with. In any case, Dave wasn’t worth the energy. She politely declined his offer, ignored his put-off expression, and left with her head held high.
The drive to Dean’s went quickly. Everything was so close here it reminded her of home—especially now that she was closer to her two best friends. As she parked next to Dean’s truck, relief swept through her, and the stress that had been her constant companion all evening fell away.
Chapter Five
