Page 19 of Single Girl in the City
Eddie stood. “I can leave.”
Owen waved at the opened French doors. “I have a lot of work to get through.” That was the hand-on-the-bible truth of the matter. He had a week’s worth of paperwork to get through today before the next week’s work began to pile up.
“Nonsense. You work too hard,” Margo said, patting his cheek. “I worry.”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“Don’t fib to me, young man. I heard you’re so busy you don’t have time to find a date to my birthday party.”
Owen stopped. “Who told you that?”
His mom laughed. “I know everything. Being one of my last single sons, you’re a topic of conversation with my ladies’ group. Then there are your brothers.”
“Which ones?” He was going to kill them.
“What’s the fun in telling you that?”
“It was the small one,” Eddie said, and Owen nearly laughed. None of his brothers could be considered small but, at six-foot-one, Rhett was the smallest—and the one who was looking for a beatdown the next time he and his brothers met at the gym for some good old-fashioned ass-kicking.
“Why aren’t you on Rhett about getting a date to the party?”
“He’s still in the throes of his divorce.” She met Owen’s gaze. “You, on the other hand, haven’t brought a girl around since Elena.”
He’d barely dated since Elena, let alone been at a point with a woman to consider bringing her around his family. He really thought he’d gotten it right with Elena. Which was another reason he avoided strings of any kind. Professional and personal.
“You hated Elena,” he pointed out.
“She wasn’t for you. But Sydney is perfect for you.”
God no. His mom was awful at playing matchmaker. “Who’s Sydney?”
“Betty’s grandniece. Last week at Bunco we got to talking about my party and Betty reminded me that Sydney was going solo. So we figured that maybe you could go together.” Margo leaned in. “A woman like Sydney is perfect for you.”
Now he remembered Sydney. She was a recipe blogger who’d posted a review that claimed “Stout is a dive bar posing as a gastropub that believes it’s more than it is.” She’d said its owner “confused flirting tactics with customer service.”
“I don’t think I’m her type.”
“Of course you are.” She cupped his face. “You’re smart and hardworking and so handsome, she’d be lucky to date you.”
Sydney would disagree and so would Owen. Sydney was no doubt looking for a suit with a high-powered job who would be the second half of her power couple. Owen was more of a bull with a lot of ink who was looking for nothing more than some play-it-fast sex and to catch up on some z’s. Not necessarily in that order.
“I think Sydney and I are more of, uh … we’re just looking for different things.”
“Maybe different is what you need. Shake things up.” Margo gave a shimmy of the shoulders. “Which is why I took the liberty of seating her next to you.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Mom, I can find my own date.”
“Of course you can.” She met Owen’s gaze. “But it’s just a few weeks away and you’re no closer to finding free time than you are a nice girl.”
“I date nice girls.” Correction, he slept with women who understood the arrangements. Women who didn’t have the whole picket fence in their sights.
“Name one.”
He blew out a breath. “No one you’d know.”
“Or no one who matters?”
He’d like to agree, but suddenly a pretty Samaritan who liked his dimples came to mind. And would you look at that, those dimples were alive and well.
