Page 61 of Single Daddy Scot
Chapter Twenty-Three
ELLA
I know Will is a total player even before we set foot in the wine bar. In fact, I know he’s a lot in love with himself when he pulls up to the kerb to pick me up. His car is a bit of a giveaway, for starters. Eye catching, attractive, and expensive looking. A bit like the man himself.
But I’m not impressed by such things. I grew up with money. To me, a car is a means of getting you from point A to point B. Unless you live in the heart of London, because then there’s just a lot of time sitting at point A before you get anywhere near point B.
Turns out, the same could be said of my evening with Will. Point B was sitting at home waiting for me. Point A I was... enduring. Much like an endless sea of traffic.
I suppose what I’m trying to say, in the politest way possible, is it’s obvious Will drives an extension of his penis—well-loved and probably polished often. By someone else. And that he’s definitely a little bit in love with himself.
And why wouldn’t he be? He’s handsome, has buckets of confidence, and flirting is his default mode. Not my type at all. In fact, I didn’t realise I had a type until recently. Turns out, it’s buff and muscular with a gruff expression. And a heart of gold. The type I’d left in the flat, fuming because I’d agreed to come out with his friend.
His friend. I wonder just how friendly they are, regretting, not for the first time, replying to Will’s text earlier this evening. At the time, it had just seemed like an escape—an escape from listening to Mac and Fin. Seeing him look at her the way he did, knowing he’d never look at me that way.
Right now, I’m being looked at. Watched. But I’ve no illusions. The man is a shark.
‘Ella, has any one ever told you that you have the most beautiful eyes?’
Generic come-on number twelve.
‘Does it ever get tiring?’ I find myself asking. His perfectly smooth brow furrows. ‘You know, always beingon?’ I encapsulate the word in air quotes.
‘On as in attentive ... charming?’
‘As in always ready with the patter—the come-on.’ I place my chin in my hands, trying to avoid gulping down my second large glass of wine. ‘Do you ever get turned down?’
‘Aha.’ The noise isn’t quite a laugh as he takes a moment to straighten the cuffs of his shirt. ‘Why do I feel that’s on the cards tonight?’
‘Will.’ I try not to fill his name with chastisement. ‘Have you forgotten we came out as friends?’
He sighs deeply, his eyes roaming the room. I’ll admit to being disconcerted as, when his gaze returns, he pins me with a hot look. ‘Honestly, Ella? It’s hard to be friends with someone you want to screw.’
‘Ah, the truth.’ I concentrate on the stem of my glass. ‘We’re playing it that way?’
‘I promise to give you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I sense nothing else will do for you. What’s so funny?’ he asks as I cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to giggle. I wave the reason away. I don’t think he’d appreciate me repeating Mac’s court quip and mention of anatomically correct cloth dollies.
‘I appreciate your candour,’ I reply, composing myself. ‘I’ll try to deliver the same.’
‘I’d rather you pandered to my ego, hen.’ He might have delivered his reply with a wolfish smile, but I sensed no little chagrin. ‘My self-worth is pretty fragile.’
‘What happened to the truth, the whole truth?’
In our corner booth, we settle in, a bottle of wine between us and a charcuterie board. I don’t want to say I find him shallow, but I can’t find an alternative descriptive. And I sort of feel like his audience. Talked at, not to.
‘Do you date often, Will?’
‘I wouldn’t saydateis the word I’d use.’
‘But you see lots of women?’
‘I do all right,’ he says, rubbing his ear, making me wonder if this is a sort of tell.
‘Why don’t you say it. Own it? You’re a very attractive man. Women want to sleep with you.’
‘Not all women,’ he answers a little irritated.
‘But if I was a bloke, you wouldn’t hold back. You’d say it how it is—that you get lucky lots.’
