The Run Option

1. Willow Delmont

Chapter one

Willow Delmont

I should be better at spotting red flags by now. I’ve been on enough dates and swiped through my fair share of dating apps. All of that experience is useless, though, because I end up sitting across from the same brand of jerk every time I go out.

“Maybe I’m cursed,” I mumble, drawing Axel’s attention.

I’d hoped my date wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me–like something out of a movie–but instead, he’s staring at the TV above my head. I know a bar and grill isn’t the most romantic location, but it was the best test to see if he was into any sports. His profile on the app we matched on didn’t have any of the telltale signs of a fanatic. No logos on any of his clothes, no mention of his favorite team, or even a name drop of where he went to college. I’ve been fooled before, though, and it seems tonight is no exception.

“Did you say something?” Axel asks before shoving a handful of cheese fries into his mouth. He licks his fingers afterward, ensuring that we won’t be sharing this appetizer. I’m not swapping germs with a stranger.

“I asked if you enjoyed your job,” I lie, shooting him a smile. Might as well give it my best shot. I’m not leaving until my burger gets here. After that, I might fake being sick…

“It’s all right,” he says with a shrug. “Makes a lot of money, which is all that matters.” He grins and I force myself to smile back.

I thought staying away from sports fans and finance guys would be enough, but apparently selling boats is another red flag to add to my ever-growing list.

“What do you do for a living?” he asks. “I don’t remember seeing anything listed on your profile.”

Axel’s eyes drift back to the TV, to where the predictions for tomorrow’s Lions game are playing. I’m not particularly inclined to tell him my job since he seems so infatuated with the team I work for. I chose him because I’d hoped he wasn’t into sports, which meant he couldn’t try to use me to get to the team like so many others have.

“I work in marketing,” I answer, keeping things vague.

He scrunches his face up. I’m not sure if it’s at me or at the fact that Neil Richardson just said the Virginia Hounds have a chance at winning this weekend. Great, now I’m watching the TV behind him . We look like one of those couples who hate each other but stay together because it’s easier than breaking up.

“I could never work at a desk all day.”

I don’t, but I don’t bother telling him that. The less he knows, the better.

I take a sip of my Diet Coke, the lime I squeezed in adding a tangy twist. I’m not a big drinker, especially not on first dates. My head needs to be clear so that I don’t accidentally say yes to a second date when what I really want is to block the guy’s profile. Which is likely what I will do tonight while eating a jar of edible cookie dough.

I scan the room to see if our food is on the way when I spot the one person I don’t want to see right now. Jason Kingsley. My pulse quickens when our gazes catch from across the room. He’s sitting at the bar alone, a basket of fries beside him. One of his dark brows raises. I give a quick shake of my head. I do not need him teasing me tonight. Plus, if he comes over here, Axel is liable to turn into a crazed fan over being in proximity to the infamous quarterback. This date is embarrassing enough without that.

Jason smirks at me, making my blood heat. Ugh . He’s awful. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with his obnoxious treatment at work. Seeing him outside of the stadium feels like a punishment. I must have committed a heinous crime to deserve Axel and Jason on the same night.

I drag my attention back to my date, whose attention is still glued to the TV, even though all that’s on is an energy drink commercial.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” I ask, hoping Jason can’t tell how disastrous this date is. I’m sure he’d find a way to mess with me about it.

“I watch football with the boys every Sunday,” he says with a wide grin. He smiles more about this than when he first saw me tonight.

I look good, too. Or at least I thought so when I got ready. I’m wearing a sweater, a mini skirt, and tall boots that make my long legs look even longer. My hair is down in soft curls, and I did my eyeshadow in a smoke color to accent my gray eyes. I swiped on lip gloss before getting out of my car, and I felt like a runway model.

Axel told me I looked nice when he saw me. I chalked it up to nerves, but now I think he was distracted by all the screens in the room. Or maybe he thinks I’m ugly. Either way, the reaction didn’t boost my confidence.

“Anything else?” I ask. I wouldn’t bother keeping up the conversation if I didn’t know Jason might be watching.

“I like taking my boat out on the lake. Maybe you can join me sometime,” he says, his eyes raking over my form in a way that makes my stomach curdle. I’m going to hope he’s picturing me in a bikini and not flat-out naked. It makes me feel marginally less gross.

“Maybe.” Not. “I’m going to go get a refill on my Diet Coke,” I say with no preamble, and he nods before turning his attention back to SportsCenter.

I don’t want to get closer to Jason, but I’d rather him than Axel. Jason has never made me feel gross like that, even though he’s a womanizing jerk. He has a little more class than my current company.

I walk to the counter and lift a hand to flag down the bartender. He’s a middle-aged man who looks like he’s seen one too many drunk people today. His mousy brown hair is slicked back, showing off a receding hairline, and his mouth is downturned in a way that is both intimidating and pity-inducing.

“What can I get you?” he asks in a gruff tone.

“A Diet Coke with lime, please.” I infuse cheerfulness into my tone. His expression doesn’t change. He simply grabs a glass from the stack to his left and sulks off toward the soda fountain.

“I’ve heard that stuff can kill you,” Jason says. He must have walked over while I was ordering because now he’s close. Too close.

I give him a saccharine smile. “So can bothering the wrong person.”

He chuckles. “I take it your date isn’t going well?”

He leans against the bar, his t-shirt riding up his large bicep with the movement. His green eyes are dark beneath the brim of his Lions cap, but I can still see the amusement flickering within them. As per usual, I’m simply a game for him. The same as on the field.

“What makes you say that?” I ask as the bartender arrives with my drink.

“Add that to my tab,” Jason says to him, ignoring my question.

I frown. “Why are you paying for my drink?”

“Because I’m stealing you from your date. The least I can do is pay for your drink and save the guy some money.”

My mouth drops. “You are not stealing me from my date. I would never go on a date with you.”

“We’re sharing a drink at a bar, having a conversation. I’d call that a date.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He smirks. “I could watch TV instead of talking to you if that would make it fit your definition.”

My face heats and I tell myself it’s anger, not embarrassment. I pull my wallet from my bag, yank out a five-dollar bill, and slap it to his chest. “This is not a date. I will never go out with you.”

His expression falters, but only for the briefest of moments before he smirks again. A large hand encircles my wrist, sending tingles up my arm. “Careful where you put your hands. Your boyfriend might look over and get the wrong idea.”

I jerk my wrist back, but he holds on to it. My stomach flutters. “Jason, let me go before he sees us.” I hate the desperate tone my voice takes on. While I’m eager to get away from Axel, I don’t want to hurt him. I also can’t afford to have anyone see me and Jason in a compromising position. It could end up all over social media and tabloid sites.

Slowly, Jason pulls my hand away from his chest, takes the money with his other hand, and then releases my wrist. I cross my arms, trying to ignore the lingering warmth from his touch. He stretches his arm down the bar counter, shoving the bill into a barely full tip jar.

“Seems like he could use it,” Jason says when he notices me watching him.

He’s right, and I don’t know what to make of the fact that instead of pocketing the money or doing something humiliating like taking it over to my date, he tipped a grumpy bartender. This is another one of those times that Jason has shown a different side of himself. It doesn’t match up with the teasing flirt who parties too much. It doesn’t erase what he did two years ago either, though.

“I should get back to my date,” I say and pick up my drink.

Jason nods, not saying a word until I turn around and take a step away.

“He’s an idiot,” he blurts out.

I stop, glancing over my shoulder at him. “What?”

“Any guy who stares at a TV when you look like that has a negative IQ.”

For the second time tonight, my face heats. I hope my makeup and the low lighting help hide my blush.

His words mean nothing, I remind myself.

“Whatever game you’re playing, Jason, I don’t want any part in it,” I say and keep walking away.

Maybe his compliment was real, but it’s more likely to be empty flattery to get in my head. I won’t let him. Not again.

If he thinks Axel is an idiot, then I wonder what he would call himself, since he doesn’t even remember the first time we met.