Spun Out
Page 31
My cheeks flamed even as I scooted forward to snatch back my magazine. “Gimme that.”
“After you answer two questions. First, are you married, engaged or currently involved with someone? And if the answer is no, will you go out on a date with me so I can prove that I’m not annoying?”
I laughed. “I actually believed you couldn’t get more annoying, but I was wrong.”
“Are you single?”
“Annoying and tenacious—there’s a winning combo,” I retorted.
“And she hedges yet again. Fine. Don’t answer. I’ll just read this fascinating article that’s got you so engrossed you can’t even answer a simple question.”
“Gimme back my magazine.”
He lifted a brow. “I doubt it’s your magazine. I’ll bet you took it from the stack over there that’s for customers to share.”
“Fine. Keep it.”
“Let’s start over.” He tossed the magazine aside and offered his hand. “I’m Jaxson. What’s your name, beautiful?”
Calling me beautiful threw me off. I automatically answered, “Lucy,” and took his hand.
“Lucy. Lovely name. Please put me out of my misery, Lovely Lucy, and tell me that you’re single.”
“I’m single but I’m not interested in flirting with you because you’re bored at the car wash and I’m convenient.”
He flashed me a grin that might’ve made me weak kneed had I been standing. “I’m far from bored. Let me prove it by taking you out for dinner. I promise I’ll be on my least-annoying behavior.”
That’s when I realized he still held my hand. That’s also when I realized I was a sucker for his tenacious charm, because I said, “Okay. But if that cell phone comes out even one time I will snatch it from you and grind it under my boot heel as I’m walking away.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
I tugged my hand free before he did something else completely charming like kiss my knuckles. “Are you single?”
“Yes, ma’am. And this is the first time I’ve asked a woman I met at a car wash for a date.”
“This is the first time I’ve agreed to a date with a man I find a—”
“Attractive?” he inserted. “Amusing? Feel free to use any A-word except the one you’ve repeatedly overused.”
“Calling you an asshole is an acceptable A-word?”
“Damn. Opened myself up for that one, didn’t I?”
“Yes, in your arrogance.”
Another laugh. “I’m definitely not bored with you. Now where am I taking you for our dinner date?”
I smirked. “Pizza Lucé.”
“Hilarious, Luce.”
“I’m serious. That’s where I want to go.”
“For real?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“I figured you’d pick someplace more upscale.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m the pizza and beer type.”
He leaned in. “I’d ask if this was a setup, with you being a sharp-tongued brunette with those big brown Bambi eyes, because you’re exactly my type. But I stopped here on a whim, so I know my friends and family aren’t fucking with me.”
“Mr. Jaxson, your vehicle is ready,” a voice announced via the loudspeaker.
I cocked my head. “You refer to yourself by your last name?”
He shook his head. “Long story that I’ll explain over pizza and beer.”
“Miz Q, your vehicle is ready,” echoed from the loudspeaker.
Jaxson—Mr. Jaxson—whatever his name was—winked. “Lucy Q? What’s the ‘Q’ stand for?”
“Nothing.”
We stood simultaneously.
“Come on. Tell me,” he urged.
“Maybe, as a single woman in a public venue, I didn’t use my real name or initial as a safety precaution.”
That declaration—a total lie—was worth it to see his smugness vanish.
Outside, the attendants stood by our cars.
No surprise that Mr. Annoying and Tenacious drove a Porsche.
But my eyes were on how spiffy my beloved blue Corolla looked. I smiled at the attendant and slipped him five bucks. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I looked across the roof of my car to see my date staring at me. “I’d say the last one to arrive at Pizza Lucé has to buy the first round, but my Toyota is at a disadvantage in comparison to that beast.”
“I planned on following you, in case you decided to make a detour.”
“Worried that I might come to my senses and change my mind about this bizarre date?”
“Yep.” He grinned at me. “Lead the way, Lucy Q. I’ll be right behind you.”
* * *
The doorbell rang, pulling me out of the memory.
I slicked on a final coat of lip gloss and went to meet my date.
Damon smiled. “Lucy. You look fantastic.” He handed me a bouquet of mixed flowers.
“Thanks, Damon, they’re lovely.” I stepped back to allow him to come inside. “I’ll just take a minute to put these in water.”
“No rush. Our reservation is at eight. We’ve got time.”
Damon wandered through the main room, looking at the artwork hanging on the walls and the kid stuff that seemed to multiply across every horizontal surface every time I turned around. Points for him that he didn’t react to the chaos that was our living space.
Surprisingly I wasn’t nervous for this official first date. The potential of a second date would create more nerves, since most men never made it past the first date with me.
I’d met Damon at a business function. We’d hit it off and exchanged emails, then phone numbers. We’d met twice after work, so when he’d asked me out for dinner, I’d said yes without hesitation. I liked him. He was low key, but not so low-key as to have no personality like some of the business-type guys I worked with.
I arranged the blooms and set the vase on the dining table. “Thank you again for the flowers. Great first-date behavior.”
“You’re welcome.” He frowned. “But this is our third date, counting meeting for coffee once and cocktails once.”
Jaxson’s sexy warning from years ago on our first date echoed in my head . . . “By our third date you will know how perfectly wicked it’ll feel to have my mouth all over you.”
Was that what Damon was hoping for? By assigning this outing a number? So if we made it to date five, then I’d fall into bed with him because it was time?
Wrong.
And here was yet another reminder of why I didn’t date. I managed a smile. “Semantics.”
Then he looked around. “Your daughter isn’t here?”
Here was the awkward part. If I said she was with her father for the weekend, would he take that as the all clear for an adult sleepover? Or did I lie about having a babysitter so if the night sucked I could use Mimi as an excuse to end the date?
After I opted for a simple “No,” Damon smiled. “Maybe I’ll get to meet her next time.”
“Maybe. For now, let’s go. I’m starving.”
About the Author
Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances set in the modern-day Wild West, as well as the bestselling Need You and Mastered series.
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