Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,21
set me up with? He’s very nice. And he’s an investment manager at one of the local banks here. He was full of good financial advice. I think I’m going to make an appointment to meet with him. He gave me his business card,” she says.
“Ah, so you do like him.”
“Not like that! He was very nice. I could see us being friends, but that’s it.” She leans in closer, giving me an even better shot of her shadowy cleavage, and I let my gaze linger there. Those tits are definitely more than a handful. “It’s so nice to see your face!”
Wariness hits me and I realize I didn’t even think about her recognizing me. I’ve never once mentioned what I actually do. She thinks I work in fitness, which is the vaguest answer ever. And maybe that’s why I’m enjoying these moments with Eleanor. She doesn’t care if I’m a professional football player or not. She just likes me for…
Me.
“It’s nice to see your face too,” I tell her, my voice soft. I clear my throat, not wanting to sound too much like a sap. “Did you work today?”
She nods. “It was so busy. One client after the other. My feet are killing me.”
“If I were there with you, I’d give you a foot massage.”
“That sounds like heaven,” she says with a little sigh.
That sigh goes straight to my dick.
Down, boy.
“When do you move again?” she asks.
“Mid next week,” I answer as I pick up the phone, flip the camera and do a sweep of my living room. “As you can see, I’m not even close to being packed up.”
There are empty boxes scattered around, not a one of them full of anything.
“You don’t have much furniture. No pictures on the wall. No knickknacks on your bookshelves,” she points out.
“I’m not home much. And those aren’t bookshelves.” I do a slow scan over the shelves that flank either side of the big-screen TV that hangs on the wall. “Those are video game shelves.”
She laughs. “You do own a lot of video games.”
“And those are the old ones. I’m downloading most of the newer games now,” I explain.
I go on about my favorite video games and she listens and nods, asking questions at the right spots. Like she’s actually interested. She tells me about a few of her clients today. How she did hair for a bridal party and the bride was so demanding.
“Are you doing your friend’s hair when she gets married?” I ask.
“I am, but she won’t be a total diva. Caroline isn’t like that,” she says.
“And you’re still coming to Vegas for her bachelorette weekend, right?” I keep my voice even, as if my question is no big deal.
But it’s a huge deal. If she comes to Vegas, I want to see her. In person. I want to smell her. Touch her. I am totally thinking ahead here, and rushing the game, but just talking to her like this has me feeling antsy. Eager.
Ready to see her.
“I am! Next weekend.” She smiles prettily. “You’ll be living in Vegas by then.”
“Yeah, I will.” Next weekend. The timing couldn’t be better. Almost like our meeting is meant to be.
“Did you still maybe want to…meet up?” she asks hopefully.
“Yeah. I’d love to,” I say without hesitation.
“Good.” She smiles, and I swear her eyes are glowing. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s just radiating light. Is that because she’s pleased with the thought of us meeting in person? Or is she sitting under a really flattering lamp right now? “Maybe I can introduce you to my friends.”
Wariness settles back in. I’d love to meet her friends, but…
What if one of them recognizes me? She’s bound to be friends with at least one football fan. And considering they live in the Monterey area, which is pretty close to Oakland, most everyone in that vicinity is either a Niner fan or a Raider fan.
“First I just want to see you,” I tell her, my voice heavy with flirtation. “Take you to dinner. Maybe to a show.”
“Ugh, no show. Just take me to some fancy dinner. Like Gordon Ramsey’s place,” she suggests.
Really? The kitchen nightmare himself? “You want to go to his restaurant?”
“Yes! I’ve always wanted to try the beef wellington,” she says. “I used to watch that show with my mom when I was younger. I loved it.”
“Do you like to cook?”
She wrinkles her nose, and it’s kind of adorable. “I’m not the best, though I’m always willing to work on it. I’ve