Page 13 of The Playboy and the Waitress

“The Hell I could have, girl, you were driving like a pro.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, come on in… since I'm feeling sorry for you, I’ll cook you dinner.

“I thought I was getting dinner because of the car. Does that mean I get two dinners now?”

“You could possibly save one to cash in later if you’d like.”

“I like this negotiating process we have. Seems like I just keep experiencing first-time experiences with you.”

“It’s because there is only one of me, love.”

CHAPTER7

“Ok, you want me to do what?”

“Read the instructions city boy, knead the dough while I cut up all the ingredients.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud at the look on his face. You would think I was telling him to perform brain surgery.

“Well, I don’t want to hear you complaining when the dough has huge clumps of flour in it. I may be more qualified to do what you’re doing even though I can’t tell you the last time I even used the kitchen in my condo. So technically I'm not qualified for this job.”

“Ok, as much as I'm enjoying your Ewww factor, I'm starving so go sit down at the island and watch and learn that way the next time you won’t have an excuse. I take it you don’t cook often?”

“Nah, in my line of business there is no point.”

“You never have told me what you do for a living. I don’t want you to think I'm prying or anything, I’m just curious.”

“My family owns the majority of country clubs in this state and a few others.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool… so a family business. At least that explains where most of your girls come from. Ughh, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh, you’re not hurting my feelings by saying the truth. My mother decided months ago that I had been single for far too long and it has become a mission for her to introduce me to someone different every week. Until one of them sticks… that’s her words, not mine. Of course, I threw a fit, but you would have to know my mother. It takes an act of congress to win a fight with her if she has made up her mind about something. So, if I was going to be put through this mockery of dating, I had no intention of taking it seriously. I was at least going to figure out what these girls were really like once they were out of their element. I decided to look at this as a little experiment and learning experience.

“That’s where the roadhouse came into play. I mean honestly, it’s not like I'm taking them to a dive somewhere out on an old back road, not a single one of them had a reason to complain. The restaurant is clean, the food is always excellent, and the staff is great.”

He winks at me.

“But I have a confession, this little experiment backfired on me. I ended up with a slight crush on the cutie who waits on my table every week, instead of the girls I bring with me.”

I put my hand on my forehead acting like the damsel in distress, “Oh the horror of it all, how could you!” We both crack up laughing. “So, technically…you are using these highfaluting broads as a distraction, to get closer to the real thing.”

“I know, I should feel bad, and this proves that I really am a player, but a guy has to do what he has to do. I mean, I don’t believe my waitress girl is fancy restaurants and flowers material. I'm completely out of my league here.”

“Well, admitting it is the first step to success. Lord help you… if and when your mother finds out that you are not taking her matchmaking seriously. Just how old are you anyway? I know men mature later than women, but I think you might be old enough to possibly find your own girlfriends.”

“I have tried out a couple but haven’t found one to last more than a few dates. I feel like women are like cars, you just know the right one when you see it, or they feel right in your hands.”

“Love the car analogy, I'm so rubbing off on you. You never did answer my question… You know, the year of your birth.”

“I thought it was rude to ask someone their age.”

“No, that’s just for women…you really have a lot to learn about our species.”

“I'm thirty-three… and you, I'm going to guess you are around the twenty-five-six range.”

“I'm twenty-eight, but I’ll take the compliment. Do you wanna help put the toppings on the pizza?” The look on his face is priceless. “Never mind, you do know the mushrooms won’t bite.”

“I just don’t like to touch uncooked food, it’s always… well, gross.”

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