Chapter Four
Winter
“Y ou’re even hotter than Luisa said.” Brad flashed a lopsided grin the moment we were seated at La Meridian, an upscale French-Mediterranean restaurant located on the strip. “I mean she said you were gorgeous, but holy shit she didn’t not give me the full picture.” His gaze was dark and hungry, more intense than a first date should be.
“Thanks,” I replied blandly, wondering why in the hell I had actually agreed to this date. Because you promised Luisa , was the only good answer and it didn’t really seem like that good of an answer as I sat under his gaze and tried not to squirm.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I was skeptical about this date, but she said you were hot and ambitious, a combination I love.”
As if I should be thrilled that he was so damn happy about my genetics. He hadn’t asked any questions about me yet and I doubted he would. It’s fine, I told myself as I battled the constant need to roll my eyes. “So why do you need a blind date?”
“I don’t but like I said, hot and ambitious.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I fought the urge to throw up in my mouth.
He was handsome in a boring, bland kind of way. In exactly the kind of way that I had no interest whatsoever in pursuing. He was self-centered and egotistical. No matter how much I needed to get a life—to focus on romance and my future—this guy was only enthralled with his own finance prowess. He was exactly the kind of man I avoided, who only wanted a woman as an accessory. No pulse or interests were required as long as I continued to look pretty, which time made impossible.
“Besides,” he began again as if I’d asked him something else. “I work long hours and meeting someone other than the vipers at my office is next to impossible. I prefer a woman who is ambitious but not as ambitious as me.”
Threatened by a successful woman, got it. He was so fucking boring I wanted to fall asleep, except every time my eyes shut, there was Hollywood, smiling and raking his hands through his long blond hair. “You haven’t asked what my career plans or goals are, so how do you know that I’m not as ambitious as you?”
He laughed, actually fucking laughed. “I mean, come on. Why would you need to be that ambitious when a man like me would be happy to take care of you.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “Take care of me until my first gray hair appears or the first line of cellulite or stretchmarks. Right, I’ll bank on that.”
“Hey, what’s with the snark? All I want to do is get to know you.”
“Bullshit. You haven’t asked me one question about myself which leads me to believe that you don’t care about me. It’s fine, really.” I shook my head, disappointed and resigned to another horrible end to another terrible date. “We’re just not right for each other. Thanks for dinner,” I told him as I stared longingly at the untouched entrée. “Or for the intent of dinner, anyway.”
“Whatever,” he muttered and rolled his eyes. “The fucking date just started. I was going to ask about you.”
And with that answer I no longer had to feel bad about ending the date early. Any man who was going to do something sincere would have simply done it. “Okay. Well then, my bad.” I flashed a smile and grabbed my purse, walking out of the nice restaurant with my head held high. Another disastrous date on the books.
The night air hit my skin, and I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tension seep out of my body until I was relaxed, and Brad was nothing more than a memory. But he was a memory I had to yell at my bestie about. I pulled out my phone while I waited for the rideshare I summoned and gave her a piece of my mind.
ME: The date was the worst.
LUISA: What? Why? Tell me everything and don’t leave anything out. I’m working so I can’t talk but I need the details. NOW.
ME: Again b/c of course it was! I think there might be something wrong with me since the Brads of the world just aren’t doing it for me. He’s conventionally attractive but the same way a cream sweater is, boring as fuck. These are boys and what I need is a man… a man like Hollywood. He’s incredible and when I think about sex, it’s his face I see. He’s the reason my panties got wet and my nipples ached painfully. I want him with a passion I didn’t know I possessed, and I can’t date these boys until he tells me that he’s not interested.
I stared at my screen in the back of the rideshare, ignoring the driver as he sang along to nineties pop music that was annoyingly catchy. I kept my gaze on the screen waiting for Luisa to respond even as I got out of the car and rated the driver. While I walked up the front steps and into the dim house because my dad was out. Again.
Luisa didn’t answer.
I was about to text her back when my phone buzzed in my hand, but it wasn’t Luisa. No, it was Hollywood. What? How?
HOLLYWOOD: Was there something you wanted to say to me Winter?
Holy. Shit. What does that mean? I flicked out of the conversation with Hollywood to find Luisa and I froze. No. “No fucking way!” I texted all of that, the whole damn paragraph about my deepest, darkest sensual needs not to my best friend but to the subject of said needs.
Fuck. My. Life.
ME: Um, no? Ignore that message. In fact you can totally delete it because I meant to send it to my friend, not you. Sorry to bother you.
He didn’t respond right away, and I was grateful as hell about it, so I shut my phone off and changed out of my—wasted—date clothes into something more comfortable. In the kitchen I found an amber ale in the fridge and I popped it open, sucking down several big gulps into the humiliation that overheated my skin started to fade.
Slowly my mind allowed me to forget the mistaken confession until my shoulders relaxed and I stepped out onto the back deck with a hint of a smile. Dad spent countless hours in the yard turning it into a gorgeous blend of grass, plants, and vegetables. He’d nerded out and planted what he called cooperative crops that kept away enemies of its friends. It was beautiful but at night like this, it was also slightly ominous.
The back door opened, and my father spoke before I could turn. “There you are. I was calling for you.”
“I’m right here,” I said and turned to face him. “You sound strange, are you okay?”
He tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am strange, at least according to you.”
A perfect non-answer. “You are strange but you sound weird now too.” I knew he’d play this word game all night just to get out of telling me what was wrong with him. “Okay, you sound as if something is bothering you, Dad. What is it?”
He stared at me for a long time, studying me as if it was his first time seeing me. Then he blinked, shook it off and put on a fake ass smile. “I’m fine. Nothing is wrong.”
I don’t believe him mostly because my father is a horrible liar. “You’d tell me if something was wrong?” I knew the answer before I asked so it didn’t surprise me.
“Of course, honey.”
Another lie. “I’m not a kid anymore Dad. I can handle it, whatever it is.” The dirty little secret in our family was that I was the strong one. I was only ten when my mom died and he fell completely apart, which forced me to handle things I shouldn’t have had to such as bills, groceries, and anything related to school. The upside was that I became very proficient in computers at a young age. The downside was that my own father left me hanging and unable to properly mourn the death of my mother. “I’ve handled worse than whatever this is,” I reminded him in a pointed tone.
He sighed heavily, getting my unspoken message loud and clear. “I know, Winter. Everything is good. I promise.”
He was still lying to me, and I absolutely hated it. I didn’t call him out on it, but I hoped he wouldn’t wait until it was too late to tell me what the problem was. “Okay, Dad. I trust you.” I wrapped him in a hug and squeezed him tight, the way I used to when I was a little girl. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” He squeezed me back and held on a little lighter.
Because something was absolutely wrong.