Chapter 2
Decker didn’t have to look up to know it was a someone of the female persuasion. Along with that low and throaty voice, a floral and feminine scent wrapped around him like a warm, familiar blanket.
He glanced over and found a pair of voluptuous, mile-long legs encased in denim and attached to one hell of a rack that had his internal warning signal screaming, “Finish your beer and go home. Alone.” Only he made the mistake of meeting her eyes and well, fuck him, he couldn’t seem to look away.
They were the most unique shade of mossy green he’d ever seen and so full of emotion that, even though he told himself to get up and walk out of there, his ass cemented itself to the bar stool.
“I got stuck at work,” she said. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. I got sucked into work and time slipped away from me. Does that ever happen to you?”
“Sometimes,” he said, amused at the speed with which the words came spilling out of her mouth.
She looked relieved. “Then you understand.” She folded her hands nervously in her lap. “I have to be honest. I wasn’t even going to come, but I didn’t want to leave you high and dry sitting at a bar alone. I’ve been there and it sucks.”
Decker had a hard time believing that anyone would stand this woman up.
She wasn’t the normal Hollywood type he went for.
In fact, besides a touch of gloss on her lips, she didn’t have on a spot of makeup.
Her hair was in a ponytail, and her top was more casual than couture.
Not exactly date attire, but she clearly thought he was someone else.
Before he could ask who she was there to meet, and clarify that it wasn’t him, she was talking again.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to meet you. I just don’t date that often. Especially when my aunt sets me up.”
“Does that happen a lot?” he found himself asking.
“It’s the worst. Being the single niece of a matchmaker means that she’s determined to find me my soulmate.
It never crosses her mind that I’m not looking for a soulmate.
” She grimaced, and as she moved, her thigh brushed his.
It was like she’d poked him with a live wire.
Two minutes with this woman and he felt more sparks flickering in his chest than a forest fire.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with looking for a soulmate. Most people are looking, right?”
He leaned an elbow against the bar top. “But you’re not?”
She snorted. “Maybe once upon a time. Nowadays, I’m more focused on things that are in my control.”
“Yet you said yes to a date?”
She let out a deep breath and looked around the bar, then leaned in as if imparting nuclear launch codes. “Can you keep a secret?”
Secrets brought intimacy, something he couldn’t afford tonight, but when he started to say he had to go, out came, “I’m like a vault.” Because when it came to women, he had a hard time turning off the flirt. When it came to this woman, flirting felt like foreplay.
She gave a reassuring nod, but it appeared more like she was reassuring herself. “Well, my aunt is a big deal in this town when it comes to matchmaking. They call her the Cupid to the Stars.”
Shit.
Decker glanced around for hidden cameras because he knew exactly who the famous aunt was. He’d seen her show and was not interested in being fixed up.
“You mean Opal Hart, Cupid to the Stars?”
“The one and only.” She rested her hand on his and there went that spark again. “Don’t worry. She promised not to film this. It’s part of our deal. So you’re safe. Plus, who would want to see two nobodies on a date?”
So she really didn’t know who he was.
“Anyway, you can imagine how many dates she’s tried to set me up on.
But I agreed she could set me up this one time in exchange for letting me alter her kitchen back to the original rendering, so I agreed.
” Her eyes went a little misty. “In fact, I think it’s her last pairing ever, because her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Not that she’d admit it to me.”
She released a little sniffle and Decker felt his palms sweat. He grew up in a house full of boys with a mom who knew how to change a carburetor with one hand tied behind her back. Tears weren’t something he’d had much experience with.
Another sniffle.
Decker felt a hive break out on his right arm.
She waved an embarrassed hand. “I’m sorry. Look at me going on. Let’s talk about something else.”
Fine by him. “So, what is it you do?”
She looked at him as if he were the slow one here—as if he should know this. “I flip houses. What do you do?”
How ironic. He was surrounded by hockey fans and he was sitting next to the only person who hadn’t a clue who he was. Now he was more than intrigued. So instead of politely excusing himself, he said, “I’m in construction, too. New builds, not flips.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Why, do I not look like I can swing a hammer?”
Her gaze dropped to his arms and he found himself flexing. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem the type to get his hands dirty.”
He laughed. “Do you like a guy who can get dirty?”
She rolled her eyes. “Does that line usually work for you?”
Yes, it did. Decker wasn’t just an MVP; he had a PhD in banter. His flirt game was so strong all it took was a strategically placed comment and women were asking if they were headed to his place or hers.
“You tell me.”
This time when she snorted, it was followed by a carefree laugh. “Most definitely not. I’m more of an emotional connection kind of person. Flirting is easy. It’s the real stuff that makes a date good.”
“Five minutes ago you told me you were going to stand me up, and now you’re telling me my flirting is a cliché?”
“I could say no, but then I’d be lying, and I suck at lying. Too many details to keep track of.”
Wasn’t that refreshing. If it were true. Because based on his experience with women there were always a few little white lies deep down that had the potential to blow things sky high.
“So you’re an angel?”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t date. You don’t lie. And you’d rather spend the night playing with your toolbox.”
“Better than spending it with a tool,” she said with such an innocent smile he had to laugh.
“Are you suggesting I’m a tool?”
“You were the one talking about my box.”
“No box talk. Got it.”
Before he could say more, the bartender came over. “What can I get you two?”
The green-eyed beauty studied the bartender, then the exit, and finally him.
She was going to bolt. If he was a smart man, he’d let her.
Being in public with a beautiful woman after his day was asking for trouble.
He was supposed to be focusing on how to fix things, not charm a woman out of her panties.
But this was the first time he’d felt like a normal guy without the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t want it to end.
“I really do have to get going,” she said.
“At least let me buy you one drink. That way you can tell your aunt you didn’t stand me up.”
God, he was an ass. Instead of correcting her mistake, he was playing along. Oh, but what a fun game it was turning out to be.
The bartender narrowed her eyes as if trying to place him, and it took everything he had not to pull his ball cap down even farther and disappear into his hoodie.
Angel seemed to weigh her options, and he knew the moment she gave in, because she let out a sigh. “Fine. One drink. But then I really do have to go.”
“Unless I can convince you to turn that one drink into two.”
“You really need to work on your game.”
“Noted. Now, what shall it be?”
He expected here to say some kind of fruity drink in a martini glass, like most women he came across in the City of Angels, but instead she reached over, grabbed his beer, and took a swig.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then smacked her lips. “That’s good. I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Make that two,” he said to the bartender, who was still studying him as she walked off.
“So, Jamison,” she said, shocking the shit out of him. She clearly knew his name, not his professional name but the name his parents used.
He glanced around the bar, looking for his agent to pop out and say, “Gotcha!” But when he met her gaze, there wasn’t an ounce of deception there. She really had come here to meet him, which made him wonder what the actual fuck was going on.
“Why did you agree to this date?” she continued. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to be matched.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re…” She waved a hand down his body.
“I’m what?”
She gave him a challenging look. “You know what you are.”
“Charming? Sexy? Your kind of guy?”
“I was thinking more… confident erring toward cocky? And conventionally handsome,” she said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Are you not into conventionally handsome men?”
She held her hands up to show off her chipped nails. “My go-to style is a ponytail, jeans and a tank top. I prefer moisturizer to makeup, and I’d rather spend my night demoing than dating. I’m as far from conventional as a person can get.”
“I’m a sucker for a good ponytail. You’re too pretty for makeup. And I’d demo with you any night of the week.”
She was so startled by his answer, she actually blushed before looking down at the bar top. She took great care aligning his coaster with the counter’s edge. It was the first time she’d broken eye contact since she’d sat down. It made him wonder what kind of assholes she’d dated in the past.
“I feel like we’re bordering on talking about my box again.”
“Angel, I can talk about your box all night long, but I’d hate to come off as a conventional tool.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I thought you said you didn’t lie.”
“I don’t,” she challenged. “When I said conventionally handsome, I just meant that most women in this bar would sell their soul to be sitting in my chair.”
“Let me guess, you’re not most women.”