Poor Matt pales in comparison.
Which makes me sad. Xavier is not an option for me. He will never be an option for me. I need to stop crushing on him.
I straighten in my chair. No. I’m not doing this to myself. I’m going to have a lovely time and give this date my best shot and full attention. Maybe he’s super nice. I’m super nice. Super-nice people go together.
Matt plops down in his chair and leans back, taking the menu from the hostess. “Hey. Tessa, right?”
I nod, hyperaware of Xavier sitting in my line of vision, watching me. “Yes. Matt?”
“Yeah.” He rubs a hand over his receding hair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”
My brows slam together and my face flushes with anger. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, Well, you’re worse, but I bite back that response and smooth my expression over into something pleasant. Like when I have to talk to an aggressive parent about their monster child.
I divert attention away from his insensitive comment, and back onto his insensitive actions. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
He shrugs, glancing down at the menu. “The downtown traffic was shit.”
I wait for an apology that doesn’t come. So I smile and pick up my menu. “Well, you’re here now.”
All right then, there will be no personality to save me from this disaster. The only option left for me is to eat as fast as possible and get the hell out of here.
Xavier
Tessa Jordan’s date is such an ass; he’s almost a caricature.
I’m trying my best to focus on dinner with my nana, but every time I catch a snippet of their conversation my hatred for the guy grows.
Tessa is the quintessential nice girl. She might be the nicest girl I’ve ever met. And while she’s not my type, she deserves a hell of a lot better than this guy. She deserves someone who will bring her flowers, and tell her she’s pretty. Not look her up and down like she’s cattle before telling her it could be worse.
I’ll be honest, since I met her, I’ve had an unexpected soft spot for her. Why? I have no idea. Maybe because she looks so soft. Or maybe it’s the way she gazes at me with those big, pooling blue eyes. All I know is the sensation is strange, but not unpleasant.
It’s not attraction, but more like she’s my best friend’s little sister and I don’t want this guy to mess with her. I suppose this makes an odd kind of sense, because she’s the best friend of one of my best friend’s girlfriend. So I’m connected to her, albeit loosely.
It’s only right I’d look out for her. My desire to take this guy out isn’t about jealousy, or wanting to date her myself, it’s about wanting what’s best for her and this guy isn’t it.
See, Tessa is the cute, commitment, nice-girl type, and even if I was attracted to her, I don’t do any of those things. I’ve got too much on my plate to give her the kind of attention she deserves. As a trauma surgeon resident I have no time to tend to a proper girlfriend. I keep my relationships—if that’s what you can call them—loose, and emotion free.
“Teachers don’t get paid that great, do they?” Matt asks, as though it’s totally appropriate to ask about someone’s salary.
Tessa cringes, and shrugs a shoulder.
Matt puts his elbows on the table. “Just asking because I’m not interested in supporting some chick. Been there, done that.”
Tessa blows out a breath. “Never crossed my mind.”
My fingers tighten on my wineglass. This guy should be treating her like a queen. She’s way better than he is, and this dickhead is making my blood boil at his dismissive treatment of her.
I know my nana feels the same way. She keeps giving me her thin-lipped displeased look from across the table.
Every minute that passes, where we all eat our separate dinners and pretend we’re not paying attention to each other, Tessa shrinks a little more.
I don’t like it. It bothers me. It shouldn’t, because she’s a big girl and can take care of herself, but I can’t help it. There’s something about her that makes me want to punch the guy.
It’s in the way her blue eyes keep fluttering to me, half in horror and half in plea.
I want to…protect her. To rescue Tessa and take her away from this guy so her shoulders can relax and her spine can lose all that steel. I find myself wanting to pull her onto my lap, tuck her against me, and stroke her wild curly hair. I want to comfort her. Tell her everything is going to be all right. That all men aren’t assholes.
I don’t even know what to do with the desire.
It’s not something I’ve ever thought before. Truth is, I’m kind of a prick about women. It’s fact. Ask anyone who knows me. I stick to women like me, and I’m always honest, but still, I’m hardly a saint. I’m a player. I can admit it. But I’m not an asshole, so I don’t fuck with nice girls.
Nana shoots Tessa’s date daggers, before she turns to me, and says in a low voice, “Are you going to do something about that?”
Maybe it’s weird I take my grandmother out to dinner on Valentine’s Day, but as far as I’m concerned it’s the best day to take her out. First, she’s my favorite person in the entire world and second, guys like me learn pretty quickly that tonight is full of female expectation I have no intention of cashing in on.
I shrug. “What do you want me to do? It’s not my business.”
She sighs. “It’s called chivalry, my dear boy.”
I flash her a smile. “The women of my generation don’t appreciate that knight-in-shining-armor shit.”
She purses her lips at my language before saying, “Women always appreciate that shit.”
I laugh. See, this is why she’s my favorite person. She raised me from the time I was ten, when my dad died from cancer and my mom took off for parts unknown. Supposedly, my mom suffered from acute depression even under the best of circumstances, so when my dad died she couldn’t take it, or me. She left me with my grandma and hasn’t been seen since. I barely remember her, or my dad. I only recall snippets of drama.
Nana and my small group of friends are my constants and that’s the way I like it. I have no intention of expanding my inner circle.
Kitty-corner to me, Tessa’s gaze finds mine, and she bites her lower lip. Even devoid of lipstick or gloss, she’s got a great mouth. It’s full and lush; a perfect bee-stung Cupid’s bow. Women pay good money for a mouth like that, but no surgeon, regardless of skill, can ever match nature. I might be a surgeon myself, I might play god every day, but nature deserves our respect, because it almost always beats man made. Especially when it comes to women, and Tessa’s mouth matches the lushness of her body, which is full and curvy. A figure I think they used to call voluptuous in the old days.
I think of the last girl I took to bed, with her long, long limbs and sharp angles. She ate a salad.
I look at Tessa’s plate. She’s eating pasta with a blush sauce and chunks of sausage. I can’t remember the last time I saw a girl eat pasta on a date. Cause of carbs.
Tessa’s date speaks and her eyes rip away from me and land on him, wide and full of trepidation.
The guy picks up his phone and holds it out. “Hey, can you do me a favor and take a selfie with me, I want my bitch of an ex-wife to see I’m on a date while she’s sitting alone?”
Tessa practically jolts out of her seat and I can’t stand it one more second. I stand, straighten to my full six-four, filling up all the space between the tables, and grip her elbow. “That’s it, you’re coming with me.”
Her expression flashes with surprise. “I’m—”
I don’t let her finish. I yank her from her seat and turn toward her date. “You’re paying, asshole.”
“Hang on a second,” he sputters, pointing at me. “Who in the hell are you?”
I tower over the guy that’s probably only five-nine and purposefully loom over him, because I’m fully aware that guys like him have Napoleon complexes. I snarl, my voice deep and menacing, “Your worst fucking
nightmare.”
“Xavier, it’s okay,” Tessa says in a soft voice.
“No, it’s not okay.” I shake my head for emphasis. I don’t know where all this is coming from, but I’m past thinking, I’m just acting, and this guy does not deserve one more second of Tessa’s time. I squeeze her. “You’re coming with me.”
The guy looks me up and down before sneering. “Go ahead and take her, she’s a little heavy for my taste.”
Tessa’s face drains of color, and what appears to be mortification crumples her features.
Some sort of primal rage fills my vision and all I can think about is making this guy pay. I need to wipe that wounded look from her eyes. As far as I can determine, I have two choices: punch him in the face, or option B.
I look down at the woman trembling under my grip, and there’s no question.
I haul her close, wrap my arms around her and lay my mouth on her.
I mean the kiss to be for show, to make the guy feel like shit. Because the truth is, I know exactly how good-looking I am. Women have compared me to a god. I’m tall and dark and genetically blessed. Tessa’s date isn’t even in the same stratosphere as me, but he’s got an ego the size of Texas, so I’m positive this will eat at him. If I had to guess, his bitch of an ex-wife cheated on him. So this is going to rub extra hard.
That’s what I’m thinking when my lips meet hers.
Her mouth stiffens under mine, and she jerks, all startled and rigid.
I take my focus off her date and put it where it belongs. On Tessa.
I soften my hold, the kiss, and lose all my aggression. Concentrating, not on the guy that’s not good enough for her, but on coaxing her response. I slide one hand around her waist and the other around her neck, letting my fingers tangle in her silky curls.
My tongue sweeps across her lower lip, seeking entry, and when her lips part, I slip into her wet heat.
She turns into me, melds her body against mine, and lets out a little needy moan.
And just like that, I get hard.
Her mouth is sweet. I should pull back, but instead, increase my grip on her neck as I lick into her mouth. Her tongue, tentative, moves against mine. A sudden desire sweeps through me, an urge to invade her, consume her. Make her forget anyone and anything but this kiss. I slant my head and deepen the contact.
Her body melts into mine.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and the madness fades as the room, and my surroundings, rush back. I rip away from the heat of Tessa’s mouth to find my nana smiling at me.
She tilts her head. “Maybe this isn’t the time.”
In my embrace, Tessa stiffens, stepping away from me.
I let her go.
“Oh… Um…” Tessa’s cheeks flush as she stumbles over her words. “I… Um…need to be going.”
I frown. “No, you’re coming with us.” My mouth still tingles from her lips and I turn to her date and point at him. “Don’t ever come near her again. Got it.”
Before he can answer, before I can think about my actions, I grip Tessa and I’m gone.
Chapter Two
Tessa
The last ten minutes are a blur and I’ve somehow found myself in the front seat of Xavier’s car, my fingertips pressed to my lips, still tingling from his mouth. The events of the night are one big jumbled mess but all I can think is: Xavier kissed me. He kissed me. His lips touched mine. His tongue invaded my mouth, tangled with mine.
He kissed me.
You know what’s sad, I know it didn’t mean anything but I couldn’t help the unbelievable thrill it gave me. I understand he did it because my date from hell called me fat. Because under that playboy image he carries around with him like a shield, he’s a guy that takes his grandma to dinner for Valentine’s Day, and he wanted to teach Matt the asshole a lesson.
I’m not dumb. I know it means nothing, but it was still the best kiss I ever had.
Later I’ll think about how pathetic that is, but for now, I’m going to let myself revel in it. My secret dream boy kissed me. I deserve the pleasure of the memory after what I’d been put through this evening.
As we drive through the Chicago streets all I’m capable of is replaying the moment his tongue slid against mine, like a looping gif. You know that sizzle and flash when you light a sparkler before it flares bright? That’s exactly how his kiss felt.
With a dreamy sigh, I glance out the window. It’s starting to snow. Big, fat white flakes fall from the sky. It’s pretty. So pretty.
Reality comes rushing back. I frown. Where are we going? It occurs to me to ask the question. I shift in my seat. “Where are you taking me?”
Xavier doesn’t take his eyes from the road. “We’re taking nana home.”
I look over my shoulder and see her in the back seat. I flush with embarrassment and my natural politeness takes over. I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner.”
She waves a hand. “Nonsense, you didn’t ruin anything, but I must say, dear, your taste in men is abysmal.”
I can’t help darting a glance at her grandson, my secret crush, who just kissed me. The imprint of his mouth is still hot on my flesh. I bite my lip. “It was a blind date my friend set up.”
Xavier’s hand tightens on the wheel. “Ashley?”
I shake my head. “No, another friend, her name is Ginger. I don’t think you’ve met her.”
Virginia huffs. “Are you sure she’s a friend? Because I wouldn’t sic that man on my worst enemy.”
A smile flirts over my lips. “He was a coworker of her boyfriend’s, I don’t know if she ever met him, and I hadn’t asked too many questions. A mistake on my part, obviously.”
Xavier’s grandma tsks, “You know, I met Xavier’s grandfather on a blind date. It was love at first sight.”
I twist in my seat to face her more fully. “Someone set you up?”
“Yes, but not with each other.” She laughs, the sound rich and full. “It was a double date. Back in those days, we were picked up at our house, and my date seemed nice enough. I remember standing there, thinking, he’ll do, he was my husband, Winston’s friend. He’d been dating my girlfriend, but I hadn’t met him yet. It was arranged, thinking it would be convenient, because it’s always nice when you have another couple to do things with.”
I shift farther in my seat, listening to her story. She’s a captivating woman, and there’s something about her that commands complete attention.
Her lips curve into a soft, wistful smile. “I wasn’t paying much attention as we sat down at the table, but I situated myself, put my napkin on my lap, and when I looked up our eyes met. My entire world came alive.”
Out of the corner of my vision I see Xavier give a little eye roll, as though he’s heard this story a thousand times.
I don’t care though, because the story speaks to that hidden romantic girl that lives inside me, and I want to hear more. I put my hand on the seat and say, “What happened next?”
She chuckles softly. “We were polite, attentive to our respective dates, but we couldn’t stop glancing at each other. I remember that dinner like it was yesterday. I’d never felt so aware of another person. His knee bumped mine under the table and I thought I’d expire on the spot. We talked, and laughed with our dates, but the two of us had a love affair in the spaces in between.”
I sigh, the sound coming from my lips so full of longing it embarrasses me. I love stories like this. Real-life fairytales.
She winks at me. “Xavier looks just like his grandfather.”
I giggled. Ah, well, that makes some sense.
Xavier shakes his head at me, full of grinning exasperation.
Virginia continues. “All night, we barely spoke directly to each other. After dinner was over, we shook hands without a word, and left in separate cars. My date dropped me off and I went inside. When his car drove off, I went outside on my front porch. I don’t know if I was waiting for him, as much as longing and hoping. Fifteen mi
nutes later I got my wish. Winston showed up at my house. In silence, he came over to me, took me by the hand. We got in his car, and drove to Oak Street beach. We stayed up all night talking, and watched the sun come up. It was the best night of my young life. We were married six months later.”
“That’s beautiful.” I smile at her. “You had a real love story.”
“We did, dear. I miss him every day.”
“I’m sorry. How long ago did he die?” I ask.
“Ten years ago.”
I wonder what that would be like, a love so deep you missed the person acutely even ten years later. I think of my own parents, who’ve always seemed more like companions to me than passionate lovers. Not unhappy, just…pleasant and content.
There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s better than what most people get. But it wasn’t what people fantasized about. I remember back in college, sitting in my English lit classes, falling in love with Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. Back then I’d sworn I’d never settle for anything less than grand passion, an all-consuming love affair.
Except, time’s passed and it seems I’m not cut out for that. I don’t inspire drunken, lust-filled passion. Or declarations of love on a dawn-kissed beach. I’m the type of woman that inspires comfort.
Unable to help myself, I cast a sidelong glance at Xavier. Beautiful, captivating Xavier.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, still able to feel the slide of his, seeking entry. As though sensing my stare, he shifts his attention off the road and onto me, focusing on my mouth.
He frowns and shifts in his seat.
I flush, and quickly put my tongue to the back of my teeth, where it belongs.
Before I can contemplate what his frown means, Virginia speaks up, “This is me. Thank you for a lovely dinner, dear boy.” She pats him on the shoulder before turning to me. “And you, are a sheer pleasure, I hope to see you again very soon.”
Grandmas always love me. I smile and offer a polite. “Me too.” As much as I’d love to spend more time with her, it will never happen. We are paths crossing on a starry night. Never to cross again.
Out of Her League (Love & Other Disasters Book 2) Page 2
