Chapter 4
It’s Tuesday, and so far the day has been great.
Weston came in as usual, and when he told me the cupcakes on display were almost as pretty as me, I could feel myself blushing.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so when Sarah was in the bathroom, I hid a box of cookies to use as an excuse to take leftovers to the station, just to get a chance to see him again.
I don’t want to jump too fast, but I do think I’m ready to explore the possibility of something with him.
Sarah’s right. It’s time I let someone in, and there’s something about West that pulls me in.
Tonight is my date with Mrs. Ira’s nephew, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction to getting myself out there. I can only hope he’s much nicer in person than his photo appeared, however, I’m not holding out.
“I need to get laid.” Sarah sighs next to me, pulling out her phone.
“You were just with Davis on the weekend.” I remind her.
“I didn’t bring him home.”
“Of course,” I tease her, playfully.
“Are you excited for your date tonight?”
I sigh. “Not really. He looked like he hates the world, and plus, I don’t even know what to wear. I have nothing date worthy. Especially not for a date with a lawyer.”
“What time is he picking you up? I can bring over a few things for you to try.” Sarah’s eyes light up at the thought of dressing me up, and I let out a groan.
“He’s picking me up at 7. And fine. But nothing sexy. Please, Sarah, I beg you, do not make me look like a hooker,” I plead.
“Are you saying I dress like a hooker?” She scowls, and I giggle.
“No, but your dresses are not made for someone with a bust or hips like mine. I’m not sure I can pull them off as well as you.”
“Pfft. I got the perfect dress for you. Your tits will look fantastic,” she sings.
“I mean it, Sarah.”
“Trust me, babe. I got you.” She smacks my ass, and I groan internally, thinking about the mess I’ve just gotten myself into.
“Are you sure I look okay?” I pull at the fabric that’s stretched around my middle, afraid the dress is too tight. At least I don’t look like a hooker, though.
“Jade, trust me, babe. If I didn’t love cock so much, I’d be doing you right now. You look hot.”
I check myself out in the bedroom mirror, running my hands along my hips and second guessing this. Sarah’s right. I do look hot. But I’m worried this will give him the wrong impression for tonight. I may be ready to date, but nothing more.
The dress is a black bodycon that hits mid-thigh with a slit up one leg and a halter that leaves my back open and exposed.
My hair is curled and in a low pony at the nape of my neck, and I’ve got tiny gold hoops in my ears.
To complete the look, my shoes are a strappy black heel with a few gold rhinestones.
“Here, let me spritz you.” Sarah walks in front of me, spraying my favourite perfume, when the doorbell rings.
I swallow down my nerves and reach for my clutch, taking one last look in the mirror.
“You got this, babe. Now go!” Sarah pushes me out of the room just as the doorbell rings again.
“I’m coming!” I yell then sigh quietly.
I unlock the door, and Mrs. Ira’s nephew gives me a slow once-over before nodding his head and clearing his throat. “Not bad.”
“Excuse me?” My brows furrow, and I wonder if I seriously just heard him correctly.
“Don’t worry. I meant it as a compliment. You are very pretty,” he tells me as I close the door behind us.
“Oh. Um. Thank you.”
“I’m Samual, by the way. I believe your name is Jade?”
“That it is.” I confirm, walking around to the passenger side of his tiny car. For a moment, I’m worried that my dress may split as I get inside this thing.
The ride to the restaurant is silent and uncomfortable, and I can already tell this night is not going to go well. When we are seated at our table, Samual scoffs at the menu.
“Is something wrong with the selections?” I ask him.
“It’s these insane prices! Please tell me you folks are not paying these kinds of prices in such a small town? I could expect to pay this at a fine dining experience in the city, but definitely not here. I’m sorry, it’s nearly seventy dollars for a ribeye and, what, a few vegetables?”
I swallow my tongue and fake a smile. “The food is great and definitely worth the prices,” I tell him.
The waitress comes to our table, and I smile up at her. “Can I get you two some drinks?”
“I’ll have a glass of white, please.”
Samual picks up the drink menu, and I watch as his eyes bug before he quickly closes it. “I’ll just have water. From the tap.” he says, and I roll my eyes at both his lack of manners and his obvious disgust with the prices.
“So, Ira tells me you’re a lawyer?” I ask, trying to start a conversation.
“Yes,” he states with no other information.
“That’s nice.” I cringe. God, I’m so bad at this.
He nods, and the waiter brings us our drinks while we place our orders.
I can’t help but notice he chose the cheapest item on the menu, and I instantly feel bad for my twenty-three-dollar ravioli, but that feeling is quickly revoked when he asks why I don’t reconsider a salad, starter size to be exact.
I take a sip of my wine, trying not to guzzle it down to make this date feel a little smoother. After a few minutes of him absentmindedly sitting there in silence, I shuffle around my seat feeling uncomfortable.
“I own a bakery here in town,” I tell him, once again trying to get a conversation rolling.
“That’s nice. You know, I met my ex, Melissa, at a bakery.”
“Ira mentioned a recent break up, I’m sorry. Were you two together long?”
“Seven years.” He sniffles, and I roll my eyes.
Wow, I think. Because who could put up with this man for seven years. I can barely do it for just a couple hours.
“Seven years is such a long time. May I ask why you broke up?” I go to take another sip of wine and notice it’s almost gone and sigh.
“We viewed money differently. She had a bad habit of spending and redecorating.”
I just nod, because I already know money is a touchy subject with this man. Our food arrives, and when I ask for another glass of wine, Samual is sure to remind me that refills are not free. If I could shoot lasers out of my eyes, he’d be toast.
We spend the rest of the meal either in silence or with Samual telling me about Melissa while complaining about the taste of his seafood fettuccine and how he will not be paying for this.
It’s clear this man is still in love with his ex and that nothing ever meets his standards.
Honestly, I’m not sure why he doesn’t just get back together with her.
I haven’t been on many dates, but this, by far, is the worst date I’ve ever been on.
“How’s everything going?” the waitress asks, stopping at our table.
“It’s great. Thank you so much,” I tell her with a friendly smile.
“Something is off with this fettuccine, and I won’t be paying for it.” Samual tells her while still shoveling in a spoonful. I sigh, mouthing a sorry to her.
“I’m sorry, sir. But considering you’ve eaten more than half, I cannot take it off the bill and it must be paid for.”
Samual scoffs and continues eating. The waiter looks like she’s sorry for me, and once again I’m chugging down the remainder of my wine and wishing this date would end.
As we finish up in silence, my mind wanders to Sheriff Donovan. I bet he would be a perfect gentleman on a date.