Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,32

ones. “And a daiquiri for you?”

I nod and wave her off.

“So tell me something about yourself.” He gives a pleasant smile, and suddenly I feel like an ass for being so aggressively judgmental. I mean, just because he’s got a head full of gray hair, and matching hairy knuckles, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of holding an intelligent conversation. Why do I get the feeling a running commentary of a political nature is about to ensue? Again with the ageism.

“I run my mother’s dance studio. Oh, and I love cats.”

“The musical?” His brows peak, and it’s only then I notice an entire rash of liver spots running down his left cheek. I quickly glance away and try to focus in on his smile. He sure has a nice set of pearly whites. A visual of him taking them out at night and slipping them in a glass runs through my mind.

I blink to attention. “The musical? No—no.” I give a nervous laugh. “The furry creatures. I have four.”

“Well.” The smile glides right off his face. “I’m allergic, but I can make an exception for someone as stunning as yourself.” He reaches over and cups his hand over mine. And eww? Why do I feel like I’m sitting on my mother’s couch while one of her geriatric boy toys hit on me? A flashback of that night slaps me in the face, and I’m quick to withdraw my fingers.

“Tell me something about you.” I slip my hands into my lap where I plan on keeping them for the next fifteen minutes. That’s exactly how long I predict I’ll have to sit here—what with the family emergency that’s about to occur. I glare over at Laney at the far end of the bar. It’s going to be very very tragic. A hospitalization might be involved.

“I’m a foot doctor. My job stinks, and so do my patients.” He barks out a laugh, exposing two neat rows of perfectly capped teeth. At least he’s got a nice smile, although the sense of humor is debatable. “I hear they’ve got a full menu here.” He peruses the offerings. “You care to grab a bite?”

I sort of like the fact he’s interested in feeding me even if it does scream paternal.

“Yes. For sure.”

“I’ve already had dinner, how about we skip to dessert?” His brows dip down, and I can’t help note the sexual connotation he’s just inferred. Am I dessert?

“That’s fine. I hear they’ve got a great tiramisu.”

He bleeds a lewd smile, and I’m quick to eye the exit.

Crap. Laney needs to see an optometrist and a psychologist. And now I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to Ryder than meets the eye. Where the hell did she get her idea of acceptable men? My mother?

Laney bops over, and we put in our orders.

“Anything else I can get you two?” She says it low and husky, and it’s all I can do not to shove her into the next table.

“That should be it.” I flat line. I’ll deal with her later.

“Izzy”—he tips his chin up and looks at me in that physician-set-for-retirement sort of way—“I see you’re wearing ballerina flats. Do you mind taking off your shoes? I’m a good judge of character based on foot care alone.”

Did he just cop to the fact he’s going to judge me solely on the condition of my hooves?

I do a quick sweep for Laney. This has got to be a joke.

“I suppose.” I mean, really? What’s the worst that can happen? He finds a planter wart and runs out the door? At this point I’d welcome an entire host of pathogens so long as they get me and my toenails out from the scrutiny of the good doctor.

I flick off both shoes and point my feet in his direction.

“Oh, my.” His mouth falls open as he leans over to inspect them. Without warning both feet are in his lap, and I’m quick to grab the lip of my seat in an effort to maintain my balance.

Holy hell. I try extracting my ankles from his stranglehold, but he’s got a death grip.

“Quite the fine specimens if I do say so myself.” His chest heaves over and over as if he’s just ran around the bar with his pants on fire. He clasps his hand over my right foot and closes his eyes, clearly losing himself in a sexual euphoria I want no part of.

“Nice.” I pluck myself free from his unwanted vice and dig my feet back into my shoes.

“It