Page 28 of When the Time Is Right
As soon as he was out of sight, I shivered and shook off the heebie-jeebies as my ride pulled up.“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I accused as I threw myself into our booth.
“Currently, I’m pissed at you. But what are you talking about?”
I rested my face in my palms and sweetly answered, “Chase. I’m talking about Chase, Hudson.”
He sat back and flagged Carmen down to get another glass for me. “What was wrong with him? He has a good job. A clean criminal history. His credit score is over eight hundred and—”
I slapped the table, causing the beer to slosh in the half empty pitcher. “How do you know about his credit?”
“What? We’re putting a rental unit over his garage. And he is the slowest, most cautious golf cart driver I’ve ever had the unfortunate pleasure of riding with for eighteen holes. He’s perfect for you. He even has a damn cat. Did he tell you about his cat?”
Yeah, on paper, I could see why Hudson, a.k.a. Mr. Practical, would like him. Therefore, I couldn’t be too mad. That didn’t change the fact that even the idea of Chase touching me in any sort of sexual way made my skin crawl.
“All of that is fine and good, but—you blind Neanderthal—he’s Calvin!”
His face bunched up, and he leveled me with that classic deep-in-thought squint of his. “No.”
“Tall? Dark hair? Blue eyes? Puny? Vegan? Ringing any bells?”
“Calvin was only vegan for a few months,” he interjected with an ornery grin.
“He’s a Goddamned doctor.”
“Okay, you have me on that one.”
My head shook at the thought of Calvin-slash-Chase leaning in to kiss me. “You’re sick. In the head. You can’t be trusted. I need new friends. Maybe a lobotomy.”
He finished a long drink and set his glass down. “You should be one to talk. You think I wanna fuck Mary Poppins?”
I couldn’t help the laugh that ripped up my throat at his twisted face and his tongue hanging out in disgust.
“Seriously, Lex. Why? Just why?”
“Mrs. Hort—I mean, Susan is nice.”
“She smelled like oatmeal raisin cookies.”
I giggled again. “Well, she’s a baker, Hudson. What did you expect her to smell like? Leather and strawberry lube?”
His lip curled and he rolled his eyes as he filled the glass Carmen had brought for me. Then he topped his off while she waited. “We’re gonna need another one of these,” he told her. When she was out of earshot, he leaned in and discreetly answered my question, “I would have been more interested in the leather. She wore sneakers, Kid.”
Inside, I was rolling, but I remained calm and pretended to be offended. I’d thought she would have dolled herself up for a date. Guess not. “So? Women can’t wear athletic footwear now?”
“I took her to a nice Italian restaurant.”
I licked my lips to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face. “So no kiss on the first date?”
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I suspect her teeth were false. She had to be around thirty years older than me? You’re cheating on this bet.”
“Hey, she’s sweet and I thought Jack would like her. At least I’d know you two were eating more than delivered pizzas and Hot Pockets when you had him. You probably eat even less when he’s not around.”
“Bullshit. You sabotaged me.”
After a few sips and a long pause, I said, “You sabotaged me too. And I was in a rush to find someone for you. But I will say this: I already have your second date in mind. And you—you giant asshole—will be happy to know she’s more your age.”
He opened the pouch he kept his darts in, which prompted me to dig mine out of my purse. “Good.”
Before it slipped my mind, I had to know how last weekend had gone. “Hey, how’d it go with Lauren and her beau? Was he cool?”
“Got rescheduled.” His brows lifted. “They’re supposed to get back to me with another night.” He shrugged and I could see the disappointment.
I changed the subject, not wanting to make his night any worse. “Oh, and for my second date, could you please, for the love of my shriveled twat, keep in mind that I’m looking for big dick energy and not some incestuous dinner company. Please and thank you.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, pointing to the board with the tip of his dart, a smug grin lifting one side of his mouth. “You’re up first, but don’t expect me to go easy on you. I’m playing to win, Kid.”What a fucking day.
No, strike that. What a fucking week.
I’d spent the majority of it in Cal’s backyard. For seven days, I gave the great pool debate a rest, long enough to give him the illusion that I’d dropped it. Then on Monday, when I was sure he’d be at work, I’d broken into their backyard with a team of my guys. As I’d suspected, Vanessa didn’t say a word. It had taken us two full days to get the utility lines marked and the area prepped. So imagine my surprise on Wednesday morning when I’d shown up with a trailer full of equipment including a backhoe and a mini excavator to find all of our hard work gone. Cal had been standing in the bay windows of his kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hands and a shit-eating grin on his face. But that little stunt was far from the victory he’d hoped for.
