Page 70 of Betting on the Bad Boy

I launched into my standard reply. Publish in a few literary journals. Continue working toward a tenured position after that.

“I’m assuming at some point you want to settle down, start a family?” He took a roll from the breadbasket and spread a pat of butter over it.

“Eventually. I’ve still got several years to go before I’d want to settle down. Between teaching and publishing, I’ve got quite a bit on my plate.”

“So where does the potential for a relationship fit in?”

I adjusted the cloth napkin on my lap. This was my chance to set him straight and make sure we were both on the same page. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Did my mother give you a different impression?”

“She said you’d say that. But she worries about you. I’d be willing to wait.”

At that moment, our server returned and set our platter of oysters on the table between us. I bit my lip while Carter assured her we didn’t need anything else.

His last comment had made me a little nervous. I needed clarification. “What do you mean by that?”

“Men have certain needs.” He studied the platter of oysters.

Trying to avoid the direction the conversation seemed headed, I reached out and picked one. I shook the bottle of Tabasco over it and raised the shell to my mouth, letting the oyster slide down my throat.

“Oh, my gosh. Delicious.”

“You’re not making this easy for me.” He took a sip of wine and attempted to pick up an oyster.

I selected one and passed it to him, hoping to change the subject. “Did you know oysters have been around for fifteen million years?”

“That’s great, Faith. As I was saying, men have certain needs. I’m not proud to admit this to you, but I’m not pure.”

Oh, my god. Where was he going with this? I avoided looking at him and took another large gulp of wine.

“I’ve been with a woman. She tempted me, and in my weakness, I succumbed. Clem saved me. I became active in the church and took a virginity pledge.”

“So, you’re a born-again virgin?” I poured myself another glass of wine and tried to digest Carter’s revelation, especially why he thought he needed to share it withme.

He relaxed against the back of his chair, the oyster still perched awkwardly in his hand. “Wow. I was so nervous to talk to you about this.”

“I think that’s great. But I’m pretty sure we’re not on the same wavelength here.”

A look of concern flashed across his face. “What do you mean?”

I sighed. How much should I divulge? “I mean, I’m not exactlypuremyself, but I don’t feel like I need to talk about it with a relative stranger.”

“I’d like us to be able to talk about anything.” He lifted the oyster and tipped it into his mouth.

Immediately, his cheeks puffed out, and a strangled choking sound came from the back of his throat. A line of drool dripped from the corner of his clenched lips. He raised his napkin to dab at the edge of his mouth as his eyes bugged and his cheeks took on a greenish tinge.

“Carter, are you okay?”

His brows furrowed as his mouth gaped open. A horrible gagging sound ripped from his throat as the oyster and the remaining contents of his stomach splashed onto the stark white tablecloth.

I jumped out of my seat and away from the table. The diners around us stopped eating and looked on in disgust.

Carter wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m so sorry. I have a horrible gag reflex. If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I nodded and picked up my glass of wine, raising it in salute to the patrons around me. Then I tilted it back and drained it.

The ride homedidn’t take long. Traffic had eased up and Carter maneuvered the car across multiple lanes on the 405. Conversation was minimal. After returning from the restroom, Carter had tossed a handful of twenties onto the table and led me out of the restaurant. He’d apologized profusely for ruining our evening.

I felt sorry for him for multiple reasons. First, the obvious. Puking in the middle of a nice restaurant would send almost anyone over the edge. He’d actually handled the whole situation better than I would have had I been the one to heave the contents of my stomach into the breadbasket.