Chapter 3 #2
“It’s a really cool event, though,” Romilly continues, unaware she’s wasting her breath. “There’s delicious food, and lots of great people, and the message is always so?—”
“I’ve been to the men’s breakfast,” I finally tell her. “I go every week. It’s this I don’t do very often. Sundays. Not really my thing anymore.”
“Oh.” For some reason, I want to kick myself as the glowing smile on her lips dims. “I understand.” She pauses and takes a step forward. “And here I was, hoping to see you around here next Sunday.”
I note the way her lips remain parted, those lips so plump and pink and irresistible.
I want to bite the bottom one. I don’t know how to answer her, because after the way I’ve been treated in the past, I’d rather eat cheese off a dirty shoe than start coming back to church.
But the way she’s studying me is fogging up my brain.
Making me reconsider. A strand of shorter hair on her forehead threatens to fall into her eyes, which now that we’re standing closer than before, I can see with certainty are bright green with brown flecks throughout.
“I’ll come back on Sunday if you let me take you out for coffee.
” The words escape before I can think things through.
She blinks in surprise. “Oh. Sure.” A small smile appears. “We can go to Logan’s house. He makes the best coffee.”
“Actually, that would defeat the point. I say coffee, but what I really mean is a date."
She purses her lips, her eyebrows drawn together in worry. "Then I'm very sorry."
Did…did she just politely turn me down? At first I can’t be sure, because I’ve never actually been turned down before. Though I’ve never dated too seriously, I’ve dated —of course I have. And it’s never been challenging for me to secure a date with a beautiful, single woman before.
Maybe she isn’t single. My gaze darts to her left hand. I expect to see a wedding ring resting on her finger, but there’s nothing other than a simple gold band on her thumb. How odd. It’s almost as if she’s not interested.
I know the best thing to do would be to forget about her and quit while I’m ahead.
I came to the service today, fulfilling my end of the bargain.
Logan is going to take a look at my car in a moment.
I shouldn’t be spending my dwindling cash on overpriced coffee, anyway.
But if I wanted to, there are plenty of other beautiful women in the world.
If I really wanted to, I could pursue someone who’s actually interested in me.
But that’s the thing.
I don’t want a relationship right now.
I need to focus on my career, and as a member of this church, Romilly is probably just as judgy as the rest of them. She’ll want even less to do with me once she learns more about me.
Yet, her hooded eyes and the way she keeps leaning toward me say different. And there’s something clearly magnetic between us, something strong enough to make me think she might just be playing hard-to-get, so I might have to ignore my better judgement here.
I lower my voice a notch, letting the charisma I was raised with seep into my tone.
“If you let me take you on one date, not only will I attend church next Sunday, but I’ll continue attending the men's breakfast. And I'll also let you answer all my aching questions as a newcomer to your church.” No need to let her know you’ll be out of here as soon as you win your fight.
She stares at me, pondering, and at first I think she's going to tell me to get lost, but then I see it.
The barest hint of a smile. The slightest twitching of her mouth.
“Fine. One cup of coffee,” she says, and then winces, closing her eyes and shaking her head a little.
“I mean…I would love to have coffee with you, Bash.
" Her voice is saccharine, almost too sweet, and it wraps around my name in a way that makes my body feel warm and light.
“Great.” I flash a grin, ever the smooth gentleman. "Then here's my number." I hand her the pamphlet I received at the beginning of service, scribbled on with doodles.
She frowns at it. "Is that…a zebra?" She rotates the paper to gauge the drawing from a new angle.
"It is." I point to myself. "Penned by yours truly."
She laughs, the sound unmistakably instinctual. And then she clamps her mouth shut like she's worried she’s offended me. But her lips remain upturned. "It's very good.”
"And right there is my phone number." I reach over and point to the top corner of the page. My face is closer to hers with me leaning over the paper like this, and I can smell the lavender and honey perfume of her hair. Of her skin. It must be her body wash.
“Wow, you sure had that ready to go, didn’t you?” A funny expression crosses her face. "Do you…write your phone number on the program every time you come to church?"
My face heats with embarrassment, but I try to hide it. “Of course not.”
She narrows her eyes, but her lips form a thin smile. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. For coffee."
"Where should I pick you up?"
"I'll text you the place to meet me. Now that I have your phone number." She waves the paper in the air like a tiny flag. "Bring your Bible," she adds before walking away.
“I don’t have a Bible.” At least, not here in Meadow Hills. It’s still back in Australia. But she’s already gone, off to greet someone else, and I’m left staring after her, once again.