Page 8 of Valentine's Day Daddy

“Why not?” she asks. “He’s hot. And do you know who he is?”

“I know who he is. That’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

My next “date” sits down at the table and a moment later, the bell rings. I put on my smile and do my best to make small talk, but all the while, I keep stealing glances at Ezra Mullen, who is sitting at a table across the aisle from me. Emma is right about him being gorgeous. With his strong jawline, perfectly coiffed black hair faintly dusted with gray, and those icy blue eyes, Ezra has movie star good looks. He’s about a foot taller than my five-two frame, broad though the shoulders and chest, and obviously takes good care of himself. And in his stylish and well-tailored three-piece suit, he's got a good sense of fashion. He’s striking and as much as I’m loath to admit, it’s hard to take my eyes off him.

As if sensing me looking, Ezra glances over at me. I quickly turn away but not before I saw that smarmy little smirk on his lips. My face grows warm and I’m sure is turning some shade of red not normally found in nature.

“Are you all right?”

I look up and see my “date” looking back at me with an expression of concern on his face. I take a quick sip of water and nod.

“I’m fine,” I say, setting my glass down.

We pass the next couple of minutes until the bell sounds talking. Or rather, he talked and I listened. All the while, I kept stealing glances at Ezra. Before my next date arrived, Emma leans over and pitches her voice low.

“Why in the hell would you not be interested in Ezra Mullen?”

“Why do you keep using his first and last names?”

“Because it’s Ezra freaking Mullen… it emphasizes just how crazy you are for not being interested in hooking up with him!”

“I’m not looking to hook up with anybody. I’m only here to appease you, you know.”

“Come on, you need to be open to new experiences, babe.”

“Not with guys like him.”

“Why not? He’s gorgeous. Influential. Filthy rich—”

“Spoiled. Entitled. Egomaniacal—”

“Wow. You sure broke him down pretty thoroughly in just four minutes.”

“What can I say? I’m just that good.”

“Ash, come on.”

“What? Guys like that, who’ve been handed everything in life are entitled. People are disposable to them. Guys like him use people and throw them away with he’s done with them,” I tell her. “You know that as well as I do.”

“I don’t know that. And neither do you,” she says.

"Well, aren't you the voice of reason and inclusivity all of a sudden?"

She laughs. “I’m mellowing with age.”

“Twenty-one and you’re already sounding like an old lady.”

The bell chimes again and my next date sits down. I fake my way through another encounter but the whole time, I again find myself glancing down the line to where Ezra is sitting. His eyes are on mine, and I feel that flush in my cheeks again. It goes on like that until he's moved to a table where I can't see him anymore and it makes me frown.

Eventually, the event ends, and we’re all invited to stick around and mingle at the bar and the buffet tables. Emma grabs my hand and hustles me over to the bar where she orders us both a Manhattan. When our drinks come, she hands me one and then smiles at me.

“So? What did you think?” Emma asks.

“I think my last gynecology appointment was less traumatic.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she replies with a laugh. “Is there anybody you’re interested in?”

“Yeah, my spot on the couch with a blanket and a glass of wine.”

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