Page 12 of Betting on the Boy Next Door
“Fair. Anyway, even if I had time to date, it’s tough. I have standards.”
This rubs me the wrong way. “Like what?”Big boobs, bigger hair, tiny waist? It’s every other Texas bro’s wish list.
He wrinkles his forehead for a few seconds. “Clean criminal record,” he finally says. “That might be it.”
Ah. I fight another smile. “What if she has a record but it’s for something noble? Like she got arrested at a protest for a cause she believes in?”
“Hmm . . . what was she protesting?”
“The . . . return of the McRib sandwich.”
“Because she’s vegan?”
“Because it’s nasty.”
“Worthy cause. I’d pay her bail and get a tattoo of her inmate number.”
“Where?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Toss up between my tongue and my stomach, since those are the two things she would have been protecting from the McRib.”
I grin. “You’re all right, new guy.”
“What about you?”
“I’m all right too.”
He rolls his eyes. “No. Coupled up? Single with standards?”
“Single with a busy schedule.”
A nod. “I hear that. So barring your schedule, you have no standards?”
I snort. “Why do I have a feeling you’re a lawyer?”
He tilts his head. “I don’t know. Why do you?”
I meet his eyes for a couple of seconds, studying him. Ruby’s right about his eyes too. I can’t quite tell in the dim light what color they are, but his thick lashes and strong eyebrows make them striking.
I take another bite of my taco and settle back into my seat.
“Well?” he asks when I finish my taco without saying anything else. “No verdict?”
“On what?”
He shrugs. “The tacos. The weather.” A beat. “Me.”
“Yes, verdict,” I say slowly. “You’re a lawyer. And yes, I have standards.”
“Do you have a no-lawyer rule?”
We’ve moved from joking to flirting. Is he checking to see if I’m actually open to dating him? This makes my stomach flutter. Even on a porch with my three gorgeous roommates, he’s paying attention tome.Who knows, he might be dumb enough to try to make a move on all of us over time, but that’ll be his problem. We don’t ever date each other’s exes. But also, maybe he won’t. Maybe he’s interested in a petite blonde who goes full alt-rock by night.
“I don’t have a no-lawyer clause. My standards are lower than that. Right now, I’d say my only cutoff is that someone can’t already be collecting his social security checks.”
He gives me a quizzical look.
“I’m an RN at a nursing home,” I explain.
