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"Was," I correct, but she doesn't seem to care. It makes sense I have to correct her, she looked me up and still can’t get my name right.

"So I knew it'd be easy to get some information on you. Which is part of the reason I'm shocked we're here for our date. Everything I saw tells me you're a party boy who only wants to have a good time. Definitely not the ‘sit in a cozy restaurant and talk about our days’ kind of guy."

"And I'm guessing that's a problem for you?" I hear the irritation in my voice, but I can't help it. "You knew where we were going. Why did you say yes?"

Jasmine shrugs, running a long red nail around the rim of her wineglass. "I was bored and have never dated an Olympian. I thought it could be fun."

I know what those words mean. I've been the one to say them more times than I care to admit, in some variation.

I wanted to hang out, to get drunk, maybe hookup, but at the end of the day, this isn't going anywhere.

Jasmine isn't looking for a serious relationship; I'm not sure she's even looking for a real date.

Still, Kat set this up, and I owe it to her to see if I can salvage it.

"Well, that's not who I am anymore." I want to set those expectations right away. "I've grown up a lot over the last few years. Hopefully, this night isn't a big disappointment to you."

She gives me a flirty smile over her wineglass. "Well, that depends on where we end it."

I bite back the grimace at the forward comment as she sips her wine.

I didn't come here with any intention to hookup, but it's clear she did.

And while I am not opposed to hookups on the first date, I've done it more than enough times, I can't shake the feeling she came to this conclusion based on articles she read about a man who hasn't existed in a long time.

"Look, I would prefer we lay this all out on the table before we waste our time. I am not sleeping with you tonight."

Her brow climbs up her forehead in surprise. "And you know that after only fifteen minutes? "

"I knew it before I even met you. It's not personal—you are a very beautiful woman, but I am looking for something real. Something more serious and I don't do hookups anymore."

Her eyes flit across my face like she's looking for some kind of tell—a sign that what I said isn't true. Maybe she thinks I'm pulling some kind of test on her, but it doesn't matter. I'm not wavering on this. I don't want to hookup with anyone.

"Are you using me as a rebound?"

Her question catches me off guard, but I'm quickly distracted by the sound of someone coughing loudly across the patio.

My gaze snaps to Mia in time to see her take a gulp from her water, cheeks flushed.

Jasmine must notice when my attention is lost because she follows my eyes over her own shoulder.

"Is that your ex?" Her gaze lingers on Mia for a minute. "Her tattoos are cool as hell."

I don't know, but the compliment makes a smile tug across my lips. I don't know why, but Jasmine didn't strike me as the type to be jealous of someone else's tattoos, especially when it comes to as many as Mia. Though, personally, I can’t agree with her more.

"Not my ex. Just a friend I've known for a while," I tell her.

Jasmine turns back to me with a shrug. "If you say so, but I still think you're looking at this like a rebound."

I have no interest in pouring my heart out to this woman I barely know, and don’t particularly like.

Especially about a woman I barely had before I fucked it up and spent years in a miscommunication-based hell just to get a sliver of her back in my life.

And now I'm too terrified to even let myself consider something happening between the two of us.

"I have no intention of treating you like a rebound," I assure her, my gaze flicking back over to Mia, who is looking increasingly uncomfortable, before focusing back on my date. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression."

"It wouldn't be the first time things ended that way." A flirty smirk crosses her features. "We could still have fun."

Dear god, how many times am I going to have to tell this woman I'm not sleeping with her?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mia starting to look around for something or someone. I manage to ignore Jasmine long enough for my gaze to lock with the person I'd rather be with.

Surprise flashes across Mia's features before it settles into something calmer. Her attention turns back to her date when they start speaking again. When our eyes meet again, she gives me a look of pure panic.

The look in her eyes screaming one thing. Help me.

I don't know what's going on, but my instincts are kicked into overdrive. I fish my wallet out of my pocket, pulling out all the cash I have in there. It's more than enough to cover dinner for both of us, but I feel bad for what I'm about to do.

"I'm sorry," I tell Jasmine. "I swear I never bail on dates, but I need to go."

"What?" She gasps, face turning red. "What do you mean, you're leaving?"

"This was never going to work, Jasmine." I set the money on the table. "This will cover both meals—feel free to get some dessert or something."

"Are you telling me to keep the change? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry," I say once more before I'm up.

I have no plan, no strategy for what to do or say. I don’t even know what's going on. I feel the need to get Mia out of here. As I make my way across the patio, I can still feel Jasmine's gaze on me. I silently send up a prayer to anything that's listening that she won't make a scene.

But she'd be totally in the right to do so if she wanted.

When Mia realizes I'm coming to her aid, a smile tugs across her lips, and she feigns surprise. "Oh, hi Ronan!"

"Hey, Mia," I greet, coming to a stop at her table. She stands to briefly hug me, and it takes everything in me to not pull her closer.

"Ronan, this is my date, Georgie." I smile at them, bidding them a small hello. "Ronan and I work together at the swim club I was telling you about. He's one of the coaches."

"Oh, right," Georgie replies, focusing on me. "She tells me you have an outdoor pool. You must struggle with keeping backswimmers and other insects out of the water. You wouldn’t want the kids getting bit."

Huh, that's an interesting way to greet someone.

"We do a lot of maintenance to keep any bugs to a minimum," I quickly say, praying no one can overhear this. Bryce will kill me if I somehow make people think we have a bug infestation. "I guess I never knew what those were called."

Lies. If you ever spent any time around water, especially lakes and streams, you've dealt with those assholes.

Georgie shrugs. "Well, I'm an entomologist; it's kind of my job to know about bugs."

The quiet groan Mia makes before downing the rest of her wine tells me everything I need to know.

"That's cool." I turn to her. "Mia, I hate to bug you, but we have an emergency at work and are needed back at the club. "

"We are?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed. I silently plead for her to go with it.

"Yes," I stress. "Bryce has been texting us, but you must have your phone on silent. I saw you sitting here and decided to come grab you."

"What kind of emergency can you have at a closed swimming pool at eight o'clock at night?"

Well, gee, Georgie , I think, give me a second to come up with one.

"It's the lane lines." The words come stumbling out, so I guess that's what I'm going with. "Carter was bringing them in and got tangled in them again. Apparently, it's pretty bad this time."

"Oh." Her eyes go comically wide. "Not again."

She immediately starts gathering her things to stand. "Carter is a disaster. I don't know why Bryce keeps letting him do this. I'm so sorry, Georgie, but I should go."

"It's fine," they reply, standing to bid Mia goodbye. "Emergencies happen."

"It was great meeting you, Georgie. I hate that it had to be in these circumstances," I say.

"Come on, Ronan, we need to go," Mia urges, tugging my arm. "I had a lovely time, Georgie."

Mia is already dragging me through the restaurant before I can even wrap my mind around what we just did. When we finally get out, she turns to me with a relieved look.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy to see someone in my life," she breathes out. "All we talked about was bugs."

I grin at the full-body shiver that goes through her at the mere mention. "Well, they are an entomologist. I'm sure there are a lot of facts to share, considering there are thousands of species out in the world."

She glares up at me. "But they should have more than one subject to talk about on a date, Ronan. Besides, you didn't necessarily look like you'd found the one with your date. "

"Kat set us up," I admit. "I guess she doesn't know me all that well yet. Jasmine came to the date because she'd looked me up and felt confident we'd end up in bed."

I see the rage flare up in Mia’s eyes, but she quickly morphs it into a comforting smile. "That's a shitty way to approach a date. I'm sorry, Ronan."

With a small shrug, I squint against the setting sun. "Both our dates are over now, which means our night is over. Unless you'd like to grab some dessert?"

She hesitates for a second, and I fully expect her to decline. I'll take her home, make sure she gets in all right, and then go find some food for myself. But if there's even the slightest chance she might want to spend time with me, I'm going to take it.

"We had only gotten to the appetizers, and I couldn't even stomach those because of the conversation."

"You mean creepy, crawly bugs." I watch her tense up. "Most of whom have more than a normal amount of legs."

"Stop that!" She swats me across the chest but smiles when I laugh. "There will be no more talk of bugs tonight. I want food, real food. And then we should definitely get dessert."

“Are you sure we don’t need to go save Carter from evil lane lines?” I joke, following as she leads me down the street. I have no idea where she’s taking me, but to be honest, I don’t care. I think I’d follow Mia Sheridan almost anywhere.

Mia turns to give me a smirk, continuing to walk backward. “It’s almost nine o’clock on a Saturday night and he’s in love with his girlfriend. I think our pal is tangled up in some one else tonight.”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Why did you have to go there?”

Laughing, she turns back around, her skirt flowing in the soft summer breeze. “Come on, O’Brien, there’s usually a food truck around the corner and you have not lived until you’ve had their burritos.”