Page 33 of Sext Me, Baby
I shrug. “The other day you wore a Blackhawks shirt and today you have a White Sox hat on. Since you only recently started coming here, I figured there’s a good chance you might be a new transplant in the area.”
“You’re right, I moved to Portland about a month ago. Either you’re always freakishly observant, or I should be very flattered.”
“It’s the former,” I reply quickly.
“Think I’ll go with the latter.”
“Suit yourself.”
He leans in with his arms folded on the table. “You know, this is twice now that you’ve avoided giving me your name.”
I arch a challenging brow. “Why do you want to know my name?”
Will tosses the challenge right back with an arched brow of his own. “Why do younotwant me to know your name?”
Lifting my mug, I take a sip to hide the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. Then I decide there’s no harm in introducing myself. “It’s Sara. Sara St. Claire.”
He relaxes back in his seat with a satisfied smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard. You have a beautiful name, Sara St. Claire.”
“Thank you.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. “That’s enough of that.”
“Enough of what?”
“Did your frat brothers dare you to hit on an older woman or something? If you plan on inviting me to a party to win some kind of bet or hazing initiation, you can forget about it.”
“I’m not sure if I should be more offended that you assume I’m in a frat, or that I’d do something as callous as hit on a woman for a dare.”
Shit, I misread the situation. “I…I thought you were flirting with me. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m totally flirting with you.”
Laughing, I shake my head. This man is too charming for his own good. No, wait. He’s too charming formyown good. “How old are you, anyway?”
“I’m twenty-five.”
I wince. “Jesus, you’re just a baby.”
Will leans on his elbows across the table, and speaks in a low, deep timbre. “I think you can tell by looking at me, Sara, that there’s not a damn thing babyish about me. Let me take you out, and I’ll prove it.”
I can feel myself blushing. Untucking my hair from behind my ears to hide my pink cheeks, I say, “Will, I’m thirty-six.”
“And?”
“And…there are dozens of girls who aren’t a whole decade older for you to take out.”
He smirks. “I know how to pick up girls, Sara. If I wanted a vapid twenty-something, I’d hit up a club or Tinder. What I want is a woman of substance. A woman like you.”
His gaze never wavers from me, it’s unsettling and exciting all at once. “You don’t know whether I’m a woman of substance.”
“I have pretty good instincts, but I suppose that’s a fair point. All the more reason to let me get to know you and see if my suspicions are right.”
“Why?” I press. “So we can start dating? Become a couple? Come on, Will. We might be compatible in…certain ways, but I’ve dated younger guys before and it always ends badly.”
“Tell me more about these ‘certain ways’ we might be compatible,” he says.
