Page 9 of Elijah's Hope
“They call you Angel?”
I shrugged. “Because my name is Elijah. It’s stupid, but they’re stupid so it makes sense. Jackson goes by Daniels sometimes and Noah we call Ark.”
“What’s Caleb’s nickname?” she asked.
“I don’t have one,” he said as he picked up a French fry. “Because they are immature and childish.”
“Says the old man,” Ark snorted.
“Did y’all pick out winners, too?” Shelby asked them.
Jackson said nothing, even though I knew the woman he’d chosen was scheduled to arrive in a few weeks.
Of course, Caleb didn’t know what we had done for him. So he said he was not involved with it. I was grateful Shelby didn’t point out Caleb’s picture had also been part of the Facebook ad we’d run.
“Mine is coming at the end of the month,” Ark announced. “Her name is Jenny. She likes to fish, hunt and drink beer. Simple and straightforward. I figured that’s my kind of woman.”
Shelby laughed. “Oh my, Ark, I think if there is one thing you should have learned by now is that women are never simple and straightforward.”
The guys laughed, including Jackson who didn’t laugh much.
“Let’s go before one of these idiots gets it in their head to start charming you.”
“You charm me,” she said to me and the words filled my chest like a warm beam of sunlight. “And now I know I’ve got an angel on my side so I’m not letting you go.”
I snorted at that. “Remember, Angel is just my nickname. Is beer and burgers okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
We took our seat at a table for two. I walked up to the bar to get us two beers and put our order in for food. Bud had managed to get a kitchen working but he had no plans on serving anyone at their seats.
I brought our beers to the table and sat across from her. She had taken off her heavy coat and was still wearing the dress she’d arrived in. It was something you might see on a Southern belle, which I supposed she was. It showed off a little cleavage and from what I could see, she had fantastic tits, which I had no problem admiring.
But they weren’t as great as her smile and for me that was totally weird. When the hell had I ever cared more about a woman’s smile than her tits?
“So what are we going to talk about?” she asked as she took a sip of her beer.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Have to be honest, this might be my first actual blind date.”
She beamed. “Mine, too!”
“Really? I have to imagine you had a lot of guys wanting to date you in college.”
She bit her bottom lip again. “Not really. Most of the guys I know are only looking for one thing. I didn’t want that. I was always looking for something more. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” Because a girl like her deserved it. It was easy to see. She was more than just sexy. More than just sweet. She wasn’t some woman a guy could bang and walk away from.
She was quality and unlike any woman I had ever known.
Including my mother.
“Well, why don’t we start our first official blind date by you telling me all about yourself?” she said. “I feel like I’ve told you everything about me already.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
There wasn’t. Not about my absent father, desperate mother and shitty childhood that landed me in the Army on my eighteenth birthday. There I had learned a skill. That lead to another skill. That lead to working oil rigs.
“Okay. How old are you?”
