Lex. It was finally Friday, and Jesus, I’d have given my left nut to sit on my couch with a beer before calling it an early night.
But no. I had a cherry-red Chevelle to win first.
After the Chase/Cal fiasco from the week before, I’d spent a lot of time trying to pick Lex’s next date. I didn’t know him well, but I had faith Hank Davis was going to win me that pink slip.
He was a solid six-foot, so shorter than Cal, but at least a head taller than Lex. He also had short, blond hair that told me he liked to take care of himself and a good build that made me feel like in a pinch he could take care of her. Lastly, he was successful with a laid-back personality, so I knew he had drive and, most of all, patience.
According to Libby, all the girls went wild for him at the accounting firm he worked at. Okay, fine. Yes. Eighty-four-year-old Libby had found this date. He was her friend’s grandson. But I’d seen pictures and asked around about him. I didn’t know his credit score, but it was entirely (read: definitely) possible I’d had a buddy pull a background check on him. Short of his middle name being Elenor, he didn’t appear to have any deep, dark secrets.
So, while Lex was off at The Lobster Claw with Hank for some of the city’s most prized seafood food, I was walking into The Porterhouse, home of Atlanta’s best steak, to meet my date, Sandra.
Things I knew about Sandra:
Her name was Sandra. The end.
As I walked to the bar, I prayed like hell Lex had given her a tad more information about me, because there had to have been at least a dozen women at the bar. I stood there like an idiot waiting for someone to notice me, all the while scanning the women for my date. A brunette at the end of the bar caught my attention. She was beautiful. Long, brown hair, tan skin, and wearing a pair of jeans and a fitted black top. Simple, but nice.
“Um, Hi. Any chance your name is Sandra?” I asked.
Her head snapped in my direction, a pair of startled big, brown eyes staring back at me. “Nope. As far as I know, I’m still Charlotte.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be meeting my date here.” I swayed my head from side to side. “And it’s a blind date thing. So you know.”
She lifted her hand, revealing a large diamond stacked on top of a wedding band. “Definitely not me.”
A big guy in a Porterhouse polo shirt came strolling behind the bar. When he stopped in front of her, he didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stood there. The husband no doubt. Not awkward at all.
Right. Okay. I gave them both a curt nod and turned around ready to continue my search when a woman a few stools down called, “Hudson?”
Oh, thank fuck.
And then I saw her. Blond hair. Bright smile. Gorgeous blue eyes.
Oh, double thank fuck.
I walked over and extended my hand. “Sandra?”
“That’s me,” she chirped, taking my hand. “You can call me Sandy though. All my friends do.”
Okay. So, Lex did good this time.
I smiled, and she shifted her giant purse in her lap and motioned for me to sit down next to her.
“Actually,” I said. “We’re going to be late for our reservation. Are you okay if we grab a drink at the table?”
“Sure,” she said, rising to her feet. Resting her hand on her very round stomach, she finished with, “Though we aren’t drinking tonight.”
I blinked. Once, twice, seven thousand times. But the fact that this woman had to have been at least six months pregnant did. Not. Change.
This had to have been a joke. This was what I’d assumed was going to happen if I allowed Lex to set me up. But there was a bet involved and the stakes were a three-bedroom, two-litter-filled-bathroom monstrosity. There was no way she’d risk losing that for a good laugh.
I forced an expression that I feared only loosely resembled a smile and turned to make my way to the hostess. Sandy and her fetus followed hot on my heels.
Swapping uncomfortable smiles—or at least mine were uncomfortable—we were quickly guided to our table. The place was nice, and I made a mental note to bring Lex here for her birthday if I hadn’t killed her by then.
When the waitress dropped off two waters, I ordered a much-needed double