Page 57 of The New York Nighthawks: Vol 1

While I waited for my hostess—Wrenley, according to her name tag—to return, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with my “date.” My brain was already trying to figure out how to convince my dream girl to go out with me instead. I began racking my brain for reasons to cancel on Ember without being a complete asshole. I couldn't pretend to be sick if I wanted to stick around and talk with Wrenley. Maybe I should just be honest? Before I could make a decision, my woman returned.

“I’m sorry for the wait. How can I help you?”

In so, so many ways, baby.

She glanced up at me, and her eyes widened as her cheeks darkened to crimson, and her mouth parted. Satisfaction rolled through me, knowing she was as affected by me as I was by her.

“Hello,” I said softly, giving her my most charming smile and then enjoying how her blush darkened and her little pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I have a reservation under Stallard.”

“Um, okay. Let me see.” She glanced down at her book, and after a few seconds, her body stiffened. When her eyes returned to me, they were filled with disappointment.

Shit. Shit. Shit.I wanted to damn Naomi for putting me in this situation, but I couldn’t because then I wouldn’t have met the woman meant to be mine.

“A table for two. How romantic,” she murmured.

“Not really,” I assured her before she could go on. I didn’t want Wrenley to think for even one second that I would flirt with her if I had any intention of attempting a real date with Ember.

“Pardon?”

I shrugged. “This isn’t even a real date. My friend’s wife set me up because she knew I was desperate for a date to the Spring Ball next month, but she was hoping it would become more. However, I’m one-hundred percent certain that this won’t amount to anything.”

“Aren’t you Jordan Stallard?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I nodded.

“I find it hard to believe that you can’t find a date to a ball.”

Sighing, I leaned an elbow on the podium so I was closer, and the conversation seemed more intimate. “My mother is amazing, and I love her, but she’s obsessed with grandkids, and she’s been hassling me about going stag to all the events I attend. If I show up with a girl on my arm, it’ll give me a reprieve. It just seemed easier to find someone with no expectations to fill the spot and give me a break from her well-meaning meddling.” I smiled sheepishly, and the corners of her mouth tipped up.

“I guess there is some sense to that. But won’t your mother realize that it’s a fake date?”

“Probably. But it can’t hurt to try.”

She laughed, and the sound went straight to my balls, making them tingle and grow heavy. I shifted again, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. I was about to ask her another question when my phone vibrated in the pocket of my sport coat. “Sorry,” I apologized, hiding my irritation at whoever was interrupting us. “Excuse me for a second.” She smiled with a nod, and I stepped to the side as I retrieved my cell.

The message was from Nixon, a friend and teammate who also happened to be Naomi’s brother. He was also Ember’s nemesis since the two of them could barely say a civil word to each other from the stories Prentice had shared.

Nixon:Ember isn’t coming tonight.

I sighed in relief, then felt guilty because something might be wrong with Ember, and he was just passing along a message from his sister.

Me:Is she okay?

Nixon:Yes. But she’s mine. And I don’t share.

A bark of laughter burst from my chest as it hit me that all their bickering had been the product of repressed feelings toward one another. Well, that couldn’t have worked out any better for me. I was suddenly completely free to sweep Wrenley off her feet.

Me:I’m happy for you, man. And good luck with the groveling. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.

Smiling, I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Then it occurred to me that I might have better luck convincing my girl to go out with me if I was a little somber over being stood up. I would use any tool in my arsenal, including pity, to accomplish my goal.

Clearing my expression of all giddiness, I stepped back over to the front of the podium and rested my folded arms on it. “Well, there went my hope for a date to the ball,” I said sadly. “I’m being stood up.”

Wrenley’s expression softened, and she put a hand on my forearm. I swore I could feel the heat from her skin searing mine right through my jacket. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Jordan.”

I bit my cheek hard enough to draw blood in an effort to distract myself from the lust that speared through me at the sound of my name on her lips.

After clearing my throat, I replied, “It’s for the best.” Then I locked eyes with her and smiled. “I still need a date to the ball. Any chance I could convince you to accompany me, beautiful?”

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