him as I slowly lower the glass to the table.
“I bet,” I whisper huskily.
CHAPTER NINE
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Everything that had happened with Faith is running through my mind. Am I putting myself in danger? Is this my end? Carter’s have a way of getting themselves into trouble. Granted, they all ended up with their soul mates, but me, I don’t even have a potential love interest. This isn’t a novel or a movie.
I could be in the presence of a serial killer tonight, and I’d die without meeting him. Or maybe I’ve already met him and run him off with my charming personality.
The whole process of it all is a scary thing. I can look after myself, but it doesn’t mean I go looking for trouble because of it.
Then there’s the question of whether I’ll like him or not. Will Clayton make me sit through a three-course meal, pretending to enjoy his company?
My stomach is in knots from the nerves. Nerves of meeting a creeper. Nerves of meeting someone I might actually like. That doomed feeling won’t leave my stomach.
A laugh slips free at how crazy I sound, even to myself. It’s a date, not a drama series on what not to do in the presence of a serial killer. If someone could hear my thoughts right now, they’d probably commit me.
Clayton watches me with a raised eyebrow. He’s probably wondering how he got stuck with the mentally unstable co-worker right now.
“If something happens, he’ll die first,” I mutter.
“What?” he mouths.
I press my lips together when I realise I said it out loud, and shrug. His attention is pulled away when a tall, leggy blonde approaches his table. He stands to greet her, smiling like a cat who got the cream as he bends down to kiss her cheek.
Could he be any more cheesy?
He really needs to ring in for advice, because kissing her on the first date is leading her on. What if he doesn’t like her by the end of it or she doesn’t like him? It will be uncomfortable for both of them.
She’s probably sat there picturing him on their wedding day. Poor soul.
Running her hand up and down his arm, she tilts her head back, laughing at whatever he whispered. She’s laughing like the guy is actually hilarious. I instantly dislike her. Clearly, she’s fake, because he wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him on the arse.
Her outfit screams desperation. It’s short, but not short enough to be slutty, and she’s showing more cleavage than me. I bet he doesn’t give her the riot act on how to dress appropriately.
A throat clearing in front of me has me nearly tipping out of my chair.
My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when they land on Reid Hayes smugly sitting in the chair in front of me. His crisp, dark purple shirt is unbuttoned at the top, the colour looking good on him. He’s styled his hair and smells divine. He’s dressed for a date, so what I don’t understand is why he’s sitting in front of me.
I scan the room for any signs of my date, not wanting Reid to scare him away, before addressing the matter in front of me.
“Reid, you can’t be here.”
“Why?” He smirks, leaning back in his chair like he belongs.
“Why are you smirking? Go away, Reid, I’m meeting someone.”
“I can’t do that.”
My God, he’s infuriating.
He turns up everywhere lately, it seems. Landon and Lily have a lot to answer for, bringing this muppet into our lives.
Our waitress from earlier steps up to the table. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”
“He’s not staying,” I tell her sharply, glaring at Reid.
“Oh, I’m—”
“I’ll have whatever beer you have on tap, babe,” he orders, winking at her.
My phone on the table lights up with a text.
CLAYTON: You could at least pretend to enjoy your date being there. Be nice.
I glance up from my phone and stare at Reid, the realisation dawning on me.
No.
This cannot be happening.
Why couldn’t I get the serial killer?
“No,” I drag out, my stomach bottoming out.
He grins. “Now she’s getting it.”
“You cannot be serious,” I snap.
“Believe it, baby.”
“They said you were a successful business owner who just gave up some responsibility to free up their time,” I remind him dryly.
His grin only gets bigger at my discomfort, and he shrugs. “I do own a percentage of Hayes’ Removals. We just hired a receptionist to take on some of the workload. I’m pretty sure Wyatt wants to fuck