My phone buzzed on the way to dinner.
Mom: Are you excited about the date? I’m so excited and I’m not even going!
Me: How did you find out about it?
Mom: Bethany told me. You don’t know her but she’s in my book club. Everyone was talking about it today. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I’m always the last one to find out what you’re doing.
Me: I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big deal. I just want to get it over with.
Mom: You’re such a downer! Beth says this Grayson boy is famous. I searched for him on the internet. He’s hot!
Me: Please don’t do this, Mom.
Mom: He has a Roman nose and a perfect jawline. And blue eyes!
Me: Don’t say what you’re going to say next.
Mom: You two would have beautiful babies together..
Me: Aaaaaand you said it. I’m done talking about this. I’ll call you on the way home.
Mom: Don’t get upset at me for picturing my future grandchildren! It’s my right as a mother!
I groaned and switched my phone to Do Not Disturb as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. It was a place called Carlo’s, an Italiansteakhouse that was so far out of my price range I never even allowed myself to look at the menu. At least I would be getting a nice meal out of this.
And if I was beingtotallyhonest? A small part of me was curious about seeing a professional athlete up close. It was like getting a private visit with a zoo gorilla.
I snickered at the analogy. It probably wasn’t fair to compare hockey players to gorillas.
But it wasn’tthatfar off.
The driver double-parked on the side of the restaurant, then hurried around the side to open my door for me. “They’re waiting for you out front. Have a great time!” he told me as I stepped out.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I walked around the edge of the building toward the entrance. There was a nervous flutter in my stomach, the same kind I got when I was excited about a date.
I told myself it had to do with the circumstances of the date, and not the date itself.
Yet when I rounded the corner of the building, and Grayson Steele came into view, I stopped in my tracks.
He was impossible to miss, leaning casually against the brick wall outside the restaurant, a study in sharp lines and quiet confidence. His three-piece suit clung to his tall frame like it had been tailored just for him—probably because it was. The charcoal gray fabric set off the sun-kissed tones of his sandy blond hair. A thin beard traced the edge of his jaw, too neatly kept to be accidental.
Grayson glanced up at me, and I caught a flicker of something behind his cool gaze—curiosity, or maybe amusement. His eyes, a striking shade of seafoam green, slid down my body like a caress.
He didn’t look like a hockey player. He looked like two hundred pounds of muscle dressed in designer wool.
And as much as I hated to admit it: he lookedgood.
Steele Wall indeed.
Shut up, vagina,I told myself.It’s just one date. Then I never have to see him again.
6
Grayson
“It’s just one date,” Mason insisted. “Then you never have to see her again. So you might as well enjoy yourself.”