Page 6 of Savage in the Sheets
“You’re so well-measured. So safe. So secure. And those are all good attributes, but they’re not memorable qualities. Jim Franks not going to go home and fantasize all night about your client portfolio.”
“Then what do you suggest I talk about?”
“Your passions! Sure, tell them what you do for a living, then follow up with how much you like to travel. Don’t go into the boring history of Peru. Instead, discuss backpacking, nature, skinny dipping in Scandinavia.”
“I got leeches—”
“Don’t mention that—or rather, if you do, make it something to laugh about.”
My shoulders slump. “Okay, talk about traveling.”
“Not just traveling. Talk about your bucket list, what you would do if you won the lottery, what you’re afraid of—can’t be work-related, a weird skill you have that has nothing to do with lawyering or data analysis. Your favorite book—fiction. Heck, you can even talk about your guilty pleasure: reality television.”
“So, doing that will help me to‘hook’a man.”
“It’s a start, but not the finish. You also need to work on your body language.”
“I have great posture, so I’m taken seriously—”
“I know-I know about your posture, but when you’re on a date, you might want to lean in a little, spike your brow when he says something intriguing, smile more, look away bashfully. The truth is, you’re a shark in the courthouse, but that doesn’t translate well on a date. Oh, and don’t always sound so serious. Use a little slang. Inject some sensuality in your voice. Touch his arm. Sweep loose strands of hair from your face. Like this.”
Weston tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my body is immediately set ablaze with want.
“See, like that.”
Calm down. This is Weston. He’s here to help. Don’t get your hopes up.
Forcing all thoughts of Weston from my head, I confront the epic truth that has been there for years, ever evading my logical brain: I’m just not cut out for dating.
“Savage, I know you got it in ya. You just need to act with them the way you act with me.”
“With you?”
“Yeah. We’ve been out at least a hundred times together, and you’re always so stiff out in public, but when we are kickin’ it at your place or mine, you relax. So I know you can do this.”
“It’s because I know that I never have to be on guard with you.”
Although we weren’t filthy rich growing up, my family did have considerable wealth. I was always taught not to trust people—that they wanted what we had.
For the most part, that was true. But not with Weston.
Weston’s hand covers mine. “I’ll never give you a reason to mistrust me.”
“Thanks. I’m glad we had this conversation. I’m definitely going to go into my dates differently, with better talking points.”
“Oh, you thought we were finished?”
“There’s more?”
“We need to go over second dates and places you should go: escape rooms, paintball, those art studios where you get drunk and recreate classics.”
“Those are all good suggestions that I will consider.”
“And then we need to talk about your sex life.”
My cheeks flush with heat, and I have to turn away, so Weston doesn’t see the fear in my eyes.
“It’s okay, Jenna. You don’t have to get nervous or embarrassed around me.”
