Chapter 6 Summer #2
I turn my head as far as I dare without making it obvious. Kendra splits away from the group of women she’s with, then makes her way past Don’s table and into the dim hall beyond it.
A beat passes. And another. And then Don gets to his feet and follows her.
“Oh my God.” I grip Parker’s arm, nails digging into his skin as he gives me a wide-eyed told you look. “He’s totally eating her muffin!”
“That’s what I’m saying!” With a shake of his head, Parker reorients himself into his usual position lounging on his bench. “Fucking hell, Sum. I couldn’t believe it when he handed her Deangelo. She’s only half as qualified as either of us.”
“You’d think the work you put in with Brooks would earn you a little recognition.
” I rip my Kindle out of my bag. I’d helped out with Brooks between my own clients, but there was a point where Parker was working seven days a week to get our friend back into playing shape.
Somehow, though, Don spun the success story as a team effort.
“Why would it, when I have neither a literal nor figurative muffin.” He opens his book, flipping through the pages. He glances at my Kindle. “What are you reading today? The dragon shifters?”
I wag my eyebrows. “They’re minotaurs.”
With a nod, Parker returns to his reading. His eyes don’t move across the page, though, and after a beat he turns a frown across the table. “How does that work, with minotaurs? Anatomically speaking.”
“Carefully, and with a lot of lubrication.” I jab at the screen of my tablet with a flourish. “There’s a ton of dirty talk in this one, which I’m certain helps. All that growling, you know?”
“Do minotaurs growl?”
“These ones do.” I shrug. “It’s hot. Possessive. Animalistic.” Denny’s not much of a growler. Not much of a talker at all when we’re getting frisky, but a girl can’t have it all.
With a contemplative hum, Parker returns to his book. This time, my own eyes stall on my e-reader. Drift across the table at Parker’s profile.
Are you a growler?
The unbidden thought has my face heating. I’d do anything to go back in time, to the moment I overheard Sammie Waters’s hushed whispers about Parker. I’d…
Well, I’d probably charge over there and demand precise details. And then lecture them all for spreading around Parker’s private business in the first place.
I clear my throat. “So, how was your lunch date? Claire was bombarding me with excited texts all week, leading up.”
Parker pulls a face. “She’s not the one.”
“Again? I thought for sure a day-date would make a difference.” My shoulders fall.
Three weeks and another five blind dates later, it’s clear that matchmaking Parker won’t come as easy as I thought.
First, it was Jenny Heath spilling an entire drink on herself apparently as an excuse to insist they head up to Parker’s to dry her clothes.
Then it was Portia Kenney—who I’d hoped would demonstrate at least some restraint at the age of thirty-seven—coming to their dinner date with a pre-written list of personal kinks she’d like to explore with him. And on and on it went.
Claire, who’s new in town and teaches yoga at the studio across the street, had seemed sweet. She’d happily agreed to a weekday lunch date, which I hoped would convey a clear message of No sex will be had today. Please behave accordingly.
“She didn’t proposition me,” Parker mutters. “It was just… off.”
“Off how?” I sort through my bag for a pen and the Parker’s Dream Woman list, which I’ve been adding to after every date.
Doesn’t wear vanilla perfume, must enjoy reading…
I’ve never known Parker to be so choosy, but if there’s one benefit to these failed attempts, it’s him figuring out what he doesn’t like. In addition to propositions.
Parker rubs at his brow. “She’s very touchy.”
“You just said she didn’t proposition you.”
“It wasn’t like that—she kept casually touching my arm while we spoke. I hated it.”
I shift awkwardly. “I touch your arm all the time. Why didn’t you ever tell me it bothers you?”
“Because it doesn’t bother me. You’re completely different.” He flips a page in his book while I frown at my sheet of paper, trying to figure out how I’d determine whether a woman is touchy before setting them up. “How’re things going with Denny?”
“Good.” I hesitate, guilt weighing on me for failing Parker while his very first blind date for me was a winner. “Great, in fact. He’s home visiting his dog for the weekend.”
Parker squints at me. The man really needs his eyes checked. “His dog?”
“He relieves his dog sitter on the weekends. Why do you look so suspicious?”
“Surprised he’d give up whole weekends with you.”
“His dog’s important to him. I get it.” Parker makes a noncommittal sound, delivered into the pages of his book, and my heart stalls for more beats than comfortable. “You think that’s a red flag?”
“Caring about a dog? No.” Parker doesn’t say anything more, apparently absorbed in his book.
It takes him several long minutes to flip to the next page, though.