Before long, there’s a car in the driveway. And some whack ass guy is ringing the doorbell with his nerdy glasses and his hair side-parted and his shirt buttoned all the way up to his chin. Before I can move my stiff ass out of the bed, Iris is at the door and he’s leading her out to his shitty car. The rust bucket pulls away from the curb and disappears at the intersection.
And I get that feeling. Y’know the feeling you get, right before you do something hella’ stupid? That warning voice that tells you to take a step back?
Yeah…tonight, I ignore that bitch.
19
Iris
Flickers of candlelight sparkle around the small room and well-dressed patrons carry on low conversations. I take a nervous sip of my wine then fiddle with the spaghetti-thin strap of my royal blue fitted dress as I glance around the fancy restaurant. I’m all tangled up on the inside.
Again, I remind myself that I’m a single woman. I have every right to be out on a date with a nice man like Terry. No point in being all guilty and nostalgic when Kirk couldn’t sign the divorce papers fast enough. Anyway, all I know is that my ex has moved on and I should, too.
That's why I find myself at Le Sous-Sol, Crescent Harbor’s finest French restaurant, getting good and liquored up and primed to make some bad decisions as I wait for my date to get back from the washroom.
Because I want le sexe.
All that wild, glorious, uninhibited sex Lexi's always talking about, that I never experienced when I was married or even before that. Tonight, I won't let my insecurities get in the way. And I definitely will not think about my roommate.
I won’t think about him.
At least that’s the plan…until he comes strolling through the restaurant’s front door.
Oh my gosh. Are you for real right now?
I just left him at my house with Walker. He didn’t seem to have plans. Yet here he is, an hour later, looking tall, dark and delicious in a black button down shirt and gray slacks as the hostess leads him across the room to the bar. The way he moves his body…all that barely-restrained horsepower. Jeez.
Is he here on a date, too? Is he meeting a woman? Not that I have the right to care.
Jude takes a seat at the counter, all thick shoulders and long legs. He spins his stool and his gaze scans the place from corner to corner like he’s looking for someone.
Our eyes lock together. And, I lose my breath.
He looks so good. Black button-down. Five o’clock shadow. Sexy, tousled hair.
I swear if someone asked me my name right now, I wouldn’t be able to answer. My heart is beating so hard. It feels like there’s a horny seal in my chest, vigorously humping my ribcage.
He’s totally checking me out, by the way. He’s not even trying to hide it. His eyes take a hit of my cleavage and linger there. I can almost feel the red splotches sprouting up on my chest and cheeks. Jude licks his lips then aims a dimpled smile at me.
That’s when a sandy-haired thirty-something man of average height and average weight and average looks steps into my line of vision, cutting off my view of the football-playing sex god. The man smiles.
Oh, right. My date.
I give Terry a smile in return and focus on him. “I’m really sorry about that.” He waves his phone in the air. “Small business owners never rest.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I take another fortifying gulp of wine.
This is good. An entrepreneur. A hard worker. I like that. “What is it again that your company does?” I ask him.
Terry mumbles something but I don’t catch it because when I glance back toward the bar, Jude is gone. And instantly, a part of me starts seeking him out. I bet he took one look at his mysterious date—whoever she is—and the two of them decided to skip dinner and go straight for ‘dessert’.
As if that’s any of my business. I’m on a date. With Terry. Average height. Average weight. Average looks.
He’s a bit on the nerdy side but it’s a cute look, I guess. He doesn’t exactly hit my hot buttons—the way some people do—but we can work up to that, I’m sure. Especially with enough wine. Terry isn’t some cocky football player who’d go straight for the sex without a little wining and dining. Terry is a gentleman. Safe. Exactly what I need.
When I tune back in to my table, he’s frantically motioning to a waitress walking by. The woman half-steps toward our table. “Sir, your waiter will be with you shortly.”
Terry smiles impatiently. An average smile. “Yeah, I know. But if you have a minute could you get me some hot water, please?”
The woman gives a strained smile. “I’ll make sure your waiter gets to you as soon as possible.” She scampers off in the direction of the kitchen.
My date makes eye contact and offers me a pleasant expression. “So, what do you do, Iris?”
I try to figure out the best way to say that I’m broke and unemployed and damn near destitute without coming across as a loser. “Actually, um, I’m in between businesses right now. I used to own a sandwich shop until a few months ago. Now, I-I’m trying to figure out what’s next…”
He perks up a little in his seat. “Oh, that’s interesting. What products are you interested in getting into?” His rapt attention is focused on me as he pulls the bread basket from the edge of the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cannon enter the restaurant. My gaze tracks him across the room until he glides into a chair at the table for two where Jude is now sitting. A ridiculous sense of relief floods me. No mystery date for my roommate tonight. This is really silly, Iris.
I force myself to direct
