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Wow, what a gentleman. Not that I wanted the bread. I didn’t need the bread. I was perfectly fine without it. I was only going to use it to stuff my face so I didn’t say something rude. Still, what kind of man took the last slice of bread? It was like a rule that a man should always let a woman have the last bite or the last glass of wine. Again, I wasn’t a feminist, so I had no problem saying this. I was willing to share, but this guy just didn’t seem to care.
I had almost finished my last glass of wine when a commotion on the other side of the restaurant caught my attention. It appeared someone was choking and I looked around for anyone that could help. I had the training, but I also had drunk two glasses of wine. It might be best if it wasn’t me who handled this situation.
“Excuse me,” Brett said, wiping his mouth with his napkin before setting it on the table and standing. He strode easily across the restaurant and within seconds, the old man who was choking was shaking his hand in gratitude.
Okay, even I had to admit that was pretty impressive. He handled it all so easily like it was second nature to save a life. And that was pretty sexy. It made me look at him in a new light—or maybe that was the wine. Either way, maybe I was being too hard on him earlier. Maybe he was right to stay sober. He was needed and reacted when everyoneelse panicked. It was a good quality, so why was I being so hard on him?
After that, the rest of the evening went by reasonably well. I relaxed my opinions, doing my best not to compare him too harshly to Dash. That was the real problem, after all. I wanted him to be Dash, and not having this date with the man I really wanted was making me cranky. But I had to accept that it wasn’t going to happen.
He paid the tab and we walked out, slowly making our way to his car. He even took my hand in his, smiling as he looked down at our joined hands. Okay, he was more than a little swoon-worthy. As he walked me to my side of the car, he pressed me up against the door and boxed me in. His hand drifted down my neck as his eyes took in every inch of my face.
I wanted to feel that butterfly sensation in my stomach as he stared at me. I wanted to look at him and think about what his lips would feel like pressed against mine. But no matter how much I tried to think of only him, Dash wormed his way into my brain until I imagined kissing him when Brett leaned in and slid his lips over mine.
It was…good. Really good. He was a great kisser. Not too sloppy, just enough passion, and definitely didn’t make me feel like I was his little sister. But that was all. The spark wasn’t there. The fire didn’t ignite in my belly. And sadly, when he broke the kiss, I wondered how long it would take him to drive me home so I could crawl into bed with Dash.
His hand cupped my cheek as he smiled at me. “Can I see you again?”
I opened my mouth to tell him no. It was best to end this now. But then I remembered the look on Dash’s face as he walked with those two women upstairs and my blood boiled. Maybe I wasn’t really giving Brett a chance.
“I’d love to,” I smiled, wishing I didn’t feel like I was carving my soul in two by agreeing to another date.
I hadBrett drop me off at my house—well, Andrew’s—instead of asking him to take me to Dash’s place. Even though I was used to sleeping there, it didn’t seem right to go directly to one man’s bed after having just been on a date with another. Not to mention, I wasn’t sure Dash would want me there.
I waved to Brett as I closed the door to Andrew’s place, then leaned against it, letting out a harsh breath. The light flipped on and I gasped, nearly having a heart attack since I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. Thankfully, it was just Edith.
“Edith,” I breathed out. “What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?”
“I was doing you a favor, dear. I didn’t want to scare away the fireman in case you wanted him to come inside.” She took a sip of her martini, then sat on the couch. “I take it the date didn’t go so well.”
“Why would you assume that?” I asked, pushing off the door and strolling into the living room.
“Honey, it’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. And you didn’t invite him in.”
“It’s the first date,” I said incredulously.
“That’s never stopped me before.”
“Well, I’m not you.”
“I realize that,” she said, draining the last of her drink. “It really is a shame. A woman of your age should feel free to explore her body and figure out what she really wants.”
“Maybe I already know.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Yes, you want the man who you spend every night with. So, why did you go out with the fireman when he’s not the man you want?”
“Because the man I want doesn’t want me,” I huffed, sitting down on the couch.
“You’re such a pessimist, dear. When you want something, you have to take it.”
“Like you did with Bowie?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Exactly. Of course, he thought I was too old. I convinced him I wasn’t,” she said with a devious smirk. “You have to lead a man in the right direction. They don’t always know what’s best for them.”
“And while that may be true, I don’t want a man to want me because I led him to believe it was the right thing to do.”
“Suit yourself. Anyway, how was the fireman?”
“Handsome…he saved an old man’s life at the restaurant.”