Waiting for Love Page 5

  Patrick: Could have fooled me. Six o’clock. Be there.

  I groan and toss my phone onto the couch. It’s just after one, which means I have less than five hours to either come up with an undisputable excuse or get ready for my dinner date. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I know Patrick won’t buy any story I give, which means I’ll be sharing a table with the infamous Feller twins in a handful of hours. Maybe if I were actually looking for what he’s suggesting I’d be a little more inclined to go, but I’m just not.

  Fiona and Felicia Feller are well known around town. Gorgeous blondes with model-thin physiques. Many men would probably give their left nut for a night with one of them—or maybe even both—but not me. Sure, they’re pretty, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I want someone who doesn’t mind hanging out on the couch on a Saturday night and discussing some interesting real-life crime drama we discovered.

  You know, someone with a brain between their ears, and unfortunately, the Feller twins aren’t known for having much.

  I keep myself busy by heading out to my shop and starting another custom order. As I select the perfect pieces of wood, my eyes keep stealing glances at the unit I built for Penelope. When should I take that to her? Should I even give it to her at all? This is something I could easily sell at Harmon’s. They’re always looking for different small pieces to use in their displays, and I’m sure they’d snatch this one up in a heartbeat.

  No, I can’t do that. This was made for her, and I just need to see it through to the delivery.

  Let’s just hope I haven’t given her a reason to cut off my balls when I knock on her door.

  When the time on my phone tells me I can’t delay the inevitable any longer, I lock everything up and return to the house. After a quick shower, I throw on a pair of dark jeans and a hunter green Henley. I should probably shave, but now that the temperature is starting to drop, I prefer a short beard over a smooth jaw. Grabbing my keys, I head out the door.

  The drive to the diner on Main Street is short. Pulling into the lot, I spy Patrick’s truck parked right next to the bright red convertible belonging to one of the twins. The other one drives a white one. Same make. Same model.

  With a deep, resigned sigh, I get out of my truck, tuck my hands in my pockets, and walk toward the door. I tug it open, the familiar scents and sounds of The Corner Diner greeting me. Instantly, I spot a few recognizable faces and offer a quick smile and a wave before my eyes land on Patrick at a booth toward the back.

  My friend is sitting beside one of the twins—not sure which, since I can’t tell them apart—with his arm casually slung over the back of the booth. The pretty blonde beside him is wearing a red dress, most likely to match her red convertible in the parking lot, and laughing at something her sister says. I’m a split second away from backing out the door when my friend glances up and spots me.

  “Hey!” he hollers as he waves me over, grabbing the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

  Even though my boots feel like they’re full of concrete, I slowly make my way toward the small group. “Hi.”

  “Theo, my man. This is Felicia,” he says, pointing to the lady sitting beside him, “and this lovely young lady is Fiona, your date.” He pops the T in date and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

  I slide into the booth beside the beaming blonde. “Nice to see you again, Fiona,” I state politely, making her giggle.

  “I’ve seen you around the gym,” she purrs, leaning toward me and running her black nails up my arm. Her nails, of course, match her dress, which dips very low in the front. Considering the colder temperature outside, I’m surprised to see both of the Feller sisters looking like they’re going clubbing at a Miami nightclub instead of sitting at a family diner in late October.

  But then again, I shouldn’t really be surprised.

  “What can I get you to drink?” our server, Doris, asks when she approaches.

  The twins order water with lemon and Patrick and I request iced tea. Even though I know what I’m having, I browse the menu and try not to think about the nailed hand slowly making its way up my thigh. When it comes to rest beside my junk, my back goes straight, and I suck in a sharp breath. Fiona takes that as a signal to proceed.

  The bell over the door chimes, and while everyone turns to check out the latest newcomer, my date leans over and whispers, “If you want, we could head back to my place as soon as you’re done eating. Or…we could go now, and you could eat there.”

  I’m so stunned by her bold statement I can’t even come up with a reply. My brain tells me to shut this down now, while my little brain has taken a strong liking to the fingers now grazing over my groin. I’ve heard a lot about the Feller twins. Hell, I’ve witnessed their antics a time or two around town, but I’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Forward women are clearly an understatement.

  When I finally have my wits about me and turn to ask Fiona to remove her hand from my balls, I hear a gasp to my right. I glance over just in time to see my gorgeous neighbor standing beside me, her pretty green eyes practically bugging out of her head as she stares at my crotch.

  At the hand covering my crotch.

  She quickly looks away and walks one row over to a man sitting by himself at a table. “Jonathan, I presume?” she says, holding out her hand.

  The guy practically jumps up out of his chair, nearly sending it flying backward. “Hi, you must be Penelope. You’re much prettier than I expected.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Is she on a date?

  With that guy?

  I reach down and stop Fiona’s hand from manhandling my balls any further and cut another glance to Penelope’s table, not liking what I see. Her posture is rigid as she sits politely in front of the guy flashing an award-winning smile. His hair is combed back, and I can practically smell his aftershave from all the way over here.

  Instantly, I hate him.

  “Yo, Theo, did you hear me, man?” Patrick asks, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

  “What?”

  He gives me a knowing smile, but gratefully, he doesn’t say anything about where my attention is. I know he saw her come in, and I’m sure he’s aware that Penelope’s directly in my line of sight. “The ladies and I were just discussing going back to my place after dinner,” he says, a cocky, knowing smirk on his face.

  Before I can answer, Doris returns with our drinks and to take our order. I stick with the hot turkey special, while Fiona orders a Cobb salad. Typical.

  Even though her hand is no longer on my cock, she leans into my arm and coos, “We were talking about going back to Patrick’s place. You know, to hang out.”

  Felicia giggles and nuzzles Patrick’s jaw. I can see her arm move too, letting me know her hand is probably occupied at the moment. All I can do is close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is like some terrible nineties porn movie, except I’m not looking to bang the woman on the dinner table with my best friend watching.

  I do everything I can to get through dinner. Fiona barely keeps her hands to herself while picking at her salad, and I inhale my food in hopes of putting an end to my pain and suffering, all while stealing glances over at Penelope and Jonathan.

  It’s like my own personal hell.

  I’m on a date I don’t want to be on, with a woman who’s determined to get in my pants. Usually, a man would be ecstatic at the prospect, but I’m not most men. I’m the one whose focus keeps returning to the one woman I really want, who just so happens to want nothing to do with me.

  Ain’t life grand?

  Chapter Seven

  Penelope

  “Wow, seriously, you look really amazing,” Jonathan says as I take my seat at the table.

  “Thank you.” I glance down at my light green sweater, dark jeans, and cute beige flats I paired it with. It’s more of the sophisticated, yet casual lo
ok I was going for.

  Jonathan goes to sit back down, but then comes over and places a kiss on my cheek, catching me a bit off guard. I quickly paste on a smile, trying to cover my shock at his forward gesture. If he notices my surprise, he doesn’t let on.

  Eventually, he takes a seat across from me and scoots himself close to the table. “I’ve heard just about everything on the menu is amazing,” he states with a grin, opening the hard plastic folder left on the table by the hostess. It gives me a few seconds to check him out without him knowing it. Jonathan’s wearing pressed slacks and a white polo shirt. His sandy blond hair is styled off his forehead and his eyes wrinkle just a touch when he smiles, which he seems to do often.

  When he glances up and catches me watching him, I reply, “They have a great menu. The fish sandwich or the BLT club is my favorite.”

  “Fish? Guess I won’t be getting a goodnight kiss later then, huh?” he adds with a hearty laugh.

  I think he meant it as a joke, but to be honest, I’m not sure. Especially when he waggles his eyebrows suggestively when I end up ordering the BLT. Not because I’m worried about having fish breath, but I’ve been craving it since this date venue came up.

  A flirty giggle erupts from behind me, and all I can think about is seeing that woman’s hand on Theo’s crotch. It was startling, mostly because it was a brazen move in the middle of a family restaurant, but why am I surprised? No one goes out with the Feller twins without expecting a little action at the end of the night. Those women have a reputation a mile wide, with a trail of broken hearts just as long. It doesn’t surprise me Theo’s on a date with one. He’s good-looking, sure, but don’t most men prefer blondes? Especially big busted ones known for their flexibility and oral skills?

  “So, you’re new to Appleton, right?” I ask, trying to keep my focus on where it should be.

  He nods and sips his freshly delivered iced tea. “Yep. Moved at the end of July and started at the high school in August.”

  “Do you like it?” I ask, taking a small drink of my lemonade and trying to ignore the way a large strand of hair has slipped from its gelled prison and is waving across his forehead.

  “Eh,” he replies with a shrug. “It’s okay. Not a lot to do, but I have to admit, the scenery has gotten a lot better recently.”

  Again, with those weird dancing eyebrows. Why do guys do that?

  “I love Appleton. I prefer the smaller town to the larger city,” I state between sips of my drink.

  Jonathan shrugs. “It’s all right. It makes it hard to meet someone though. Sometimes you have to settle for grocery store pickups,” he adds with a hearty laugh.

  I flash him a quick smile, but it’s definitely forced. Settle for? Besides a bar or online, there aren’t exactly a lot of places to meet someone in Appleton. I’ve gone out with a handful of men I’ve bumped into at the grocery store or even the hardware store. Is that part of their typical MO? To pick up a single woman next to the fresh pears?

  Jeez, this date is going downhill fast.

  When our food arrives, all I can think about is getting out of here. I was able to at least get a little excited for this evening, but now it feels forced and like maybe Jonathan has a few expectations at the end of the night. Then, my mind flashes back to Theo, and the look in his eyes when he saw me standing there. I caught a flash of surprise and maybe even lust before my traitorous eyes glanced down and ruined it.

  Seriously, what was that look?

  Now I’m just mad that man is even taking up the smallest piece of real estate in my mind. How dare he?

  I try to give Jonathan my full attention and the benefit of the doubt. It’s not easy to meet and converse with someone new. Maybe he gets nervous and doesn’t come across well on a first date. I mean, I’ve met plenty of guys over the last few years who fell into that category. Unfortunately, most never actually redeem themselves out of it, but maybe Jonathan is different, right?

  Let’s hope.

  “So, tell me more about working at the high school.” When I glance across the table, I notice his eyes cast downward. At my chest. My sweater isn’t tight or low cut, but he seems completely enthralled with it, as if it holds state secrets or the location of Atlantis.

  “Well, it’s not too bad. Do you know Ms. Shimman? She teaches English. Just went through a nasty divorce.”

  “Uh, yes, I know her,” I reply, not really liking where this conversation is headed.

  “She’s not bad looking. I’m thinking if this thing doesn’t work out with you, I may give her a call.”

  And there it is.

  I drop the rest of my sandwich, suddenly not hungry anymore, and slide out of the bench. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

  He nods, his eyes still glued to my chest as I turn away and hurry toward the short hallway for a quick reprieve, all while trying to avoid the booth where my neighbor sits with the aerobics hussy. When I finally lock myself in the first stall available, I close my eyes and curse the dating gods.

  Why me?

  Why is it so hard to find a decent guy? One who has the same interests as me, and who is as committed to getting to know a person before you jump into innuendoes and first date assumptions.

  Why does Theo have to be here to witness the horrible date? Especially when his seems to be going swimmingly, if the happy little giggles coming from their table is any indication.

  I sigh, hating that I have to go back out there and finish this, but I’m not a quitter. I won’t leave him with the tab and skip out. First off, I’m too polite for that, but also because this is too small of a town to do that and not expect to run into him at the bank or gas station.

  The fact still remains: This date was a failure.

  An epic failure, because I’m pretty sure Jonathan still expects a fishless breath goodnight kiss at some point. Considering he’s more interested in conversing with my boobs, I’m one-hundred-percent sure that’s not happening.

  Not tonight. Not ever.

  When I can’t delay the inevitable any longer, I finally leave the bathroom and see Theo and his group slipping out of their booth. He looks up, and our gazes lock for the briefest of moments before I look away. I keep my head down and return to my table, proud of myself for not caving to the urge to throw eye-daggers at the Feller twins, only to find most of my fries gone.

  My date? He has this satisfied grin on his greasy lips.

  I stare down at my nearly empty plate, trying to figure out if part of my sandwich fell victim to my date’s grazing or not.

  The bell over the door sounds, letting me know Theo and his crew have left, and all I can do is let out a giant sigh of relief. I don’t know why my stomach has been in a knot since I saw him sitting in the booth, but it has. Actually, if I’m being honest with myself, I was more anxious having my neighbor nearby than I was for my date across from me.

  What does that mean?

  “I went ahead and ordered us a slice of apple pie to go. It’s my favorite. You know, this one time, at band camp…”

  Jonathan laughs loudly at his reference to the nineties cult movie American Pie. The food I had already ingested threatens to make a reappearance, and I have to look away to hide my shock. Fortunately for me, the server arrives to deliver our to-go pie and the check.

  “I’ve got this,” my date announces, making a big show of grabbing the check.

  “Actually,” I start, reaching into my small purse for my wallet, “I’d like to pay for my half.” I’ve been on every type of date imaginable, and if it’s not going well, I always insist on paying my share.

  Jonathan stands up and gives me a wide grin. “If you’re looking for a way to repay me, I have a few ideas.” Then, he waggles those eyebrows once more, and I almost lose my dinner.

  “I think I’ll just stick with my half of the tab,” I insist, setting a twenty down on the table.

  Jonathan grabs the money and pulls a five from his own
wallet, dropping it on top. My mouth drops open when I realize he’s using my entire twenty for the check and only adding enough to cover the tip.

  He scoops up the apple pie and reaches for my hand. Instinct calls for me to pull it out of his grasp, but I’m not a rude woman. Instead, I casually turn my body to the side as I maneuver through the rows of tables, dislodging my hand from his grip in the process.

  Once we’re outside, I suck in a deep breath of cool oxygen, closing my eyes and letting the bitter chill in the air nip at my flushed cheeks. Jonathan must take my pause as a sign I’m ready for my fishless goodnight kiss. Unfortunately for him, he’s wrong.

  The moment his lips press against mine, I pull back and lift my knee. It makes contact with his most sensitive area, causing him to double over in pain. “What the hell, Penny?” he gasps, doing his best to breathe through the hurt.

  “Excuse me, but what made you think I was looking for a goodnight kiss? And on the sidewalk in the middle of town at that! I just met you like forty-five minutes ago,” I argue, resting my palms on my hips and narrowing my eyes.

  “You were giving me the signs all night,” he gasps.

  “Wow, I’m not sure what signs you thought I was giving, but it wasn’t that. I’m sorry this evening turned out the way it did. You’re a decent man, Jonathan, but you shouldn’t just assume all women want to kiss you at the end of the evening.” I huff, feeling the weight of another horrible date settling on my chest.

  “Whatever,” he mutters, standing back up, though not really to his full height. He seems to be guarding himself a bit in the middle. “No need for you to go around kneeing people in the balls. Especially when someone buys you dinner.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

  “Now, I could forget this entire misunderstanding happened, if you still want to go back to my place for pie.”

  At a complete loss for words, I turn away from my deranged date, and head for my car. I don’t stop, even when he hollers, “I’ll call you.” My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest as I slip inside my vehicle and make sure the door is locked.