Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Oh.” He nods as he thinks it through. “Your brother?”
“He’s a nice guy, and it’s just a thought . . . it doesn’t matter if . . .”
“No, sure. Why not?”
“Really?” I smile.
“Saturday night?”
“Sounds great.”
He gets out his phone. “What’s your number?” I tell him my number, and he types it into his phone. “I’ll call you Thursday, and we’ll make the arrangements,” he says.
“Sounds . . . perfect.”
We stare at each other for a beat, and he gives me a broad smile. “Speak to you on Thursday?”
“Okay.”
He turns and walks off, and I watch him disappear into the distance.
Oh my god, I have a date.
Ahhh. I have to call Blake and let him know all about . . . I frown as a new thought flashes through my mind. A horrifying thought at that.
What is his name?
Ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . . ring, ring. I sit in my car in the parking lot, and I smile goofily as I wait for him to answer.
“Blake Grayson.”
“Guess who has a date for Saturday night?” I beam.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“With who?”
“He’s a dad of a student I used to teach.”
“The old single-dad trick, huh?”
I giggle. “Yep. So Saturday night for our double date, is that okay?”
“Sure is.”
“But how do you know if you’ll be able to get a date for this weekend at such short notice?” I ask.
“Trust me, I know.”
“Oh.” I frown. Ugh, what must it be like to have every woman in the world fall at your feet? “So, he’s going to call me on Thursday night, and we will tee something up.”
“Right.”
“Who are you going to ask out?” I ask him.
“I’ll find someone.”
“No time-wasters; girlfriend material, right?” I remind him.
“Bec.” I can almost hear his eyes roll. “I’ll have a date. That’s all you need to worry about.”
“Okay.” I smile as I hang on the phone. “So, what do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do we strategize or make a plan or something?”
“Oh my god, no.”
“No?”
“We let it happen.”
I frown, confused. “But how do we know what’s going to happen if we don’t plan it?”
“That’s the point—we just go with it and see what happens. I can’t observe you if I don’t see you in your natural dating habitat.”
“Oh.” I nod, feeling stupid. “Right.”
“All right.” He tries to wind up the conversation.
I hang on the line. “Are you coming over tonight to take pictures?”
“I can’t tonight. I have something going on.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip as I listen. “A date?”
“Yes, a date.”
With who?
“Like a . . . just-fucking date?”
“Rebecca.”
“Right.” I shake my head. Why did I say that? “Sorry.”
“Goodbye.”
“Have a good night.”
“I intend to.” The phone goes dead as he hangs up.
I look out over the parking lot as I think . . . hmm, turning him into boyfriend material is going to be a lot harder than it seems.
I pace back and forth in my bedroom. It’s official: I am an idiot.
This is the stupidest idea of all time.
It’s bad enough that I’m going on a date, but to have Blake there judging me for the entire night?
What was I thinking?
And to top it all off, I don’t even know my date’s name. I’ve tried to find it out. I looked in the files in the office and everything, and all I got was his surname, which I already knew.
Oh god, this is a disaster waiting to happen.
I call Blake. Ring, ring . . .
“Hi,” he answers.
“Hi, everything still okay for tonight?”
“Yeah, why?”
“So you’re meeting us at the restaurant at seven o’clock, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Are you ready?”
“Just getting in the shower now.”
I glance at my watch. “You’re going to be late.”
“No, I’m not.”
I put my hand over my stomach. “I’m so nervous, I feel sick.”
“Relax, it’s fine.”
“Is it? Because it really doesn’t feel fine.”
“I’ll see you there.”
“Okay.” Then I remember. “Oh, Blake.”
“Yes, Rebecca.” He sighs in exasperation.
“When you get there, can you introduce yourself before I have to?”
“Why is that?”
I screw up my face because I know how lame this sounds. “I don’t remember his first name.”
“Ha ha, classic rookie error. Look at you. You’re nailing this player thing already.”
“Not funny.” I roll my eyes. “Goodbye.”
I see the headlights swing into my driveway, and I take one last look in the mirror.
I’m wearing a cream fitted dress, and my hair is down and curled. I’m rocking a fake tan and high heels, and I haven’t made this much effort in years.
I feel utterly ridiculous.
Knock, knock, knock echoes from downstairs, and I close my eyes in horror.
I’ve changed my mind; I don’t want to go anymore.
You have to.
I slowly make my way downstairs and open the door.
“Hi.” His friendly face smiles.
“Hello.”
“Are you ready to be wined and dined?” He’s wearing jeans and a shirt, and he looks nice.
“Uh-huh.”
He holds his hand up in the air.
Huh?
I frown, and he holds his hand up higher. “High-five it, baby. Hit me.”