Only One Mistake, page 4
“Um,” Jillian says, looking at me, and then the waitress, and I can see her hesitating.
“I can afford whatever you want to drink,” I say, and she laughs even louder. It’s the only thing I can hear, and I love it.
“I’ll have a whiskey sour and a shot of nineteen forty-two,” she orders and then looks at me. “I’m not driving.” I look at the waitress who waits for my order.
“I’ll have water,” I say and look back at Jillian. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No,” she says. “I’m planning on drowning my sorrows.” It’s my turn to laugh out loud, and I swear in the ten minutes I’ve been with her, I’ve laughed more than in the past five months. “Oh,” she says, “actually.” She puts her fingers up. “I’ll have a plate of french fries.” The waitress looks at her. “Like a whole plate.” She uses her hands to make a circle.
I look at her, and I’m suddenly so fucking nervous my heart starts to speed up, and my mouth gets dry. “So do you come here often?” I ask and then groan, putting my head back. Taking the cap off my head, I dig my nails into my scalp and put it back on my head when she just laughs. I hold up my hands. “As you can tell, I have no game.” I shake my head.
With a chuckle, she puts her purse on the table next to my phone. “Are you saying you don’t go on many dates?”
I look at her for a second and see if she’s playing with me. Does she really not know who I am? “Not really,” I say, and she tilts her head to the side.
“I find that hard to believe.” Her eyes go big when she realizes what she said, and I’m about to ask her what she means when the waitress comes over with our drinks.
“Here is the whiskey sour and a shot of nineteen forty-two,” she says. “I brought another one on me,” she says, looking at Jillian with a smile and walking away.
“Well, I get stood up and get drinks,” she jokes. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” She smiles sadly. She grabs the one shot of yellow liquid. “To Zander. For making me cross off blind dating from my list.” I shake my head as she takes the shot and then hisses. “Smooth,” she says through clenched teeth.
“I have to ask…” She looks at me, her thumb wiping away something from the corner of her mouth. “What made you decide to go on a blind date?”
She laughs. “Well, I figured why not.” She shrugs. “I tried the whole Tinder thing and then Bumble, and it was all…” She holds up her thumbs and points down. “So I figured why not.”
“Did you know him?” I ask, so curious, and she nods.
“He is my hairdresser’s son,” she says. “Guess who is never going back to that hairdresser?” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as she picks up the second shot. “I knew that it was a bad idea.” She shakes her head. “Besides rescuing women,” she asks, “what does Michael do?”
I think about how to answer this, and for the first time, I lie, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m a fitness trainer.”
She picks up her whiskey sour and looks at me. “It definitely shows.” She winks at me, and I shake my head as the waitress comes back with a plate full of french fries.
“You checked me out?” I ask. She shrugs and takes another sip of her whiskey, and I am the one watching her. Her arms look thin, and I’m obsessed with looking at her lips as she takes a fry and bites the tip. Leaning over to grab the ketchup bottle, she pours a mountain next to her fries.
“When I got here, I was like, wow, he is really comfortable with himself if he’s going to show up wearing a baseball cap to a date.” I love that she just says what’s on her mind, and I just look at her, my mouth hanging open. “I mean, I was like, wow, he’s good looking.” She just continues to talk, taking another sip of her whiskey, and I wonder if it’s liquid courage or if she is just this open. “Then, well.” She dips a fry in ketchup. “You looked up, and I was like, I just won the lottery.” I shake my head, the laughter escaping even if I didn’t want it to. “Then I thought I was going to die.” She grabs a fry and then chases it with another sip. “I was mortified.”
“It happens.” I try to make her feel better, and she chuckles.
“When was the last time you got stood up?” she asks, and I just look at her. “That’s exactly what I thought,” she says. “Someone who looks like you will never get stood up.”
“Well, Jillian,” I say, leaning forward. “If it’s any consolation prize.” I make sure she is looking at me when I say the next words. “There is no fucking way he would have stood you up if he knew how you looked.”
Chapter 6
Jillian
“Well, Jillian,” he says, leaning forward and my hand stops on its way to my mouth with the french fry in it. “If it’s any consolation.” His eyes stare into mine, and my whole body falls into a puddle-like form. “There is no fucking way he would have stood you up if he knew how you looked.” My mouth suddenly goes drier than a desert, and I pick up the whiskey sour and finish the whole drink. The sound of the loud restaurant becomes silent, and all I can hear are the words he just said to me. All I can hear is his smooth voice.
“Um,” I say, holding up my hand with the french fry in it, aiming at the waitress who looks at me. “More drinks?” I say, pointing at the three empty glasses in the middle of the table. I look back over at Michael and try to swallow, but it feels like a huge lump is in my throat. “You said you had no game,” I’m finally able to say when I swallow a couple of times. When I met him, I thought he was hot, but talking to him, he just went into another category altogether. The category of the once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.
With a chuckle, he leans back in his chair, pulling his shirt across his chest. If I had more saliva available, I would be drooling on the table. Heat rises up the back of my neck, and I have to wonder if it’s the alcohol or the man sitting in front of me. “That wasn’t a pickup line or game,” he says.
“I say otherwise.” I finally eat the fry in my hand. I point at him, getting another fry and dipping it in ketchup. “That was game.” I wink at him. “Definitely keep that in the bank to use at a later date.” If anyone who knew me was sitting at this table, they would not believe I just said that or did the whole eye-wink thing. When he found me at the door, I was five seconds away from having a crying session about being stood up. I was getting ready to call myself an Uber and looking forward to going home and sitting on the couch while I had a pity party with ice cream and pizza. But then he asked me to have a drink with him, and everything in my head said to just leave, but a little part inside me jumped at the chance. When I sat down at the table and ordered a shot of tequila, I made up my mind that this night would never happen again. A once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing. I mean, who gets stood up and then has a hot guy ask her to have a drink with him? True, it was a sympathy drink, but nonetheless, I was sitting at the table with said hot guy, and I was going to make every second count.
“Here you go,” the waitress says, putting down another two shots of tequila and a whiskey sour.
“Thank you,” I say and turn back to look at Michael. “Are you from Dallas?”
“No, I was born and raised in New York,” he says.
“That’s my second favorite city,” I say. “I mean, technically first if it had a beach.”
“There is a beach in Long Island,” he informs me, and my eyebrows pinch together.
“Okay, then I’ll rephrase it, a beach with blue water,” I say, making him laugh.
“It’s a dark green.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at me, and I give him a look that says, come on. “Fine, it’s not as good as the South.”
“Thank you,” I say, nodding at him. “So when did you move to Dallas?” I want to know more about him.
“I moved here today,” he says, and my mouth drops open.
“Like today, today?” I point at the table, maybe misunderstanding him.
“Like today, today.” He looks at his watch. “Like ten hours ago, I was getting on a plane to move here.”
“Oh my God.” I shake my head and take a shot. “This is not your day,” I say, grabbing another fry.
“Why do you say that?” He leans forward, and his arms just bulge. “I had an okay burger, and I’m sitting with a hot girl.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but snort. “Was that not good game?”
“It was,” I say. “It’s just.” I take a big inhale. “It’s weird being told I’m the hot girl,” I admit to him. “Pretty eyes, yes, but hot girl, no.” I look around and spot a table with six gorgeous girls all dressed to the nines, posing with their phones. I point at their table. “Now those are hot girls.”
He looks over and shakes his head. “That is Instagram versus reality.” I can’t help but laugh out loud. “If I take you home tonight…” He looks at me and takes off his hat, scratching his black hair. “I know I’m waking up with you tomorrow.” He points with his thumb. “I take any one of those girls home, and I’m probably waking up with Cruella.”
“Oh, that,” I say, smirking. “That means there is a story behind that.”
He shakes his head. “No story,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“Lies.” I slap the table, smiling, and I think I’m flirting with him. I mean, I want to flirt with him, but I haven’t flirted with a guy in well, forever, so I don’t even know if I’m doing this right or not. “There is a story behind that,” I prod, the alcohol in my body giving me added confidence. “Spill the tea.”
He runs his hands through his hair, and I wonder if it feels as silky as it looks. “There was one time,” he finally says, closing his eyes. “It was summer, and I was with my cousin and…” He trails off and just shakes his head.
“And and,” I say, clapping my hands together, waiting for the juicy part of the story. The smile on my face hurts my cheeks, but I haven’t smiled this much in a long, long time, if ever, for that matter.
“Let’s just say I woke up with her eyelashes stuck to my cheek,” he says, putting his hands to his face. “Stuck stuck.”
I can’t help the laughter that roars through me at this point, throwing my head back and smacking the table with my hand. “Stop it,” I plead, holding my stomach.
“Imagine my surprise when I looked over at her and saw that.” He puts his palm on his forehead. “It was not something you need after spending the night drinking. You think you are taking home the hot girl, and it’s all an illusion.” I grab my drink and take another sip. “So trust me when I say that you, Jillian, are the hottest girl in here.”
“Well, after that.” I shrug. “I guess I’ll take it.”
The waitress comes over. “Can I get you guys anything else?” she says, and my heart sinks just a little, knowing this date is over. I mean, it’s not really a date, more like a drink with a friend.
“I’m good,” I say, grabbing my purse to pay for the drinks.
“Don’t you even think about it,” he says, grabbing the black folder that the waitress came running to him with when I was at the door. “You can use this card.”
She grabs the black folder from him and smiles. “I’ll be right back.” Turning, she walks away.
“You really don’t have to do this,” I say. “This is…” I try to think of the words to thank him for saving me tonight, but no words would do it justice.
“This was a really great night,” he says, and I just smile at him as the waitress brings the black folder to him. He signs the paper in scribbles and puts away his card. I push away from the table, my heart thumping, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m nervous again or the fact that I’m going to say goodbye to him.
I get off my stool, grabbing my purse, and he waits for me. “After you,” he says, holding out one hand as he puts his hat back on his head. He puts his hand on the lower part of my back, and I can feel the heat from his hand coming through the silky fabric.
“Thank you,” the hostess says to us with a huge smile. “Come again.”
“Thank you,” I say to her as I walk out of the restaurant and move to the side of the door, not to stand in the way. The wind has picked up, and my hair is flying all over the place. I stop and look at Michael, who is a head taller than me, and now that he’s standing, I can take in his whole body. You can tell from the way he wears his gray T-shirt that his chest is defined. His legs look thick in his jeans. “Well,” I say, pushing the hair away from my face. “I have to admit.” He waits for me to talk. “I’m going to go out on a limb right now and say that I had a better time than if my blind date had shown up.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you for that, Michael.”
He nods at me. “It was my pleasure.” He starts to lean in, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s going to kiss me. My eyes stay open the whole time, just in case my head plays games with me later on and says it didn’t happen. His lips come to my cheek, and my whole body lights up. “A great welcome to Dallas,” he says, smirking.
“Drive safe,” I say, and my heart sinks when he turns and walks away. I want to watch him, but my eyes fly back down. “No use in drawing out the inevitable,” I say, taking my phone out of my purse and seeing twenty missed text messages.
I pull up the Uber app and order a car. I wait for the black dot to stop spinning, and it says that my driver will be here in ten minutes. Switching over to the text app, I scroll to the missed texts from Julia.
Julia: Where did you go?
Julia: Did he show up?
Julia: Um, hello?
Julia: You are freaking me out.
Julia: You are really worrying me. Can you tell me that you are okay?
The rest of the messages are the same, and I think about what to text her back. What can I possibly say? I had the best time ever with a guy who was not Zander, and I let him leave without even asking him for his number? I close my eyes, and all I can see are Michael’s blue eyes.
Me: I’m fine. On my way home. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I press send and see the three dots come up at the same time as a car pulls up. I look up to see the SUV, and the passenger window rolls down. He leans over, and I can see that he took off his hat as he looks at me. “You are not Riccardo,” I joke with him.
Chapter 7
Michael
Just drive away, my head told me. You did your good deed for the night, let her be. I sat in the SUV, looking in the rearview mirror. “Just drive away.” I closed my eyes. “But she drank, and what if.” I knew she was beautiful when I saw her, but she became even more beautiful when we started talking. She made me feel things I didn’t know how to explain or put my finger on. I also never wanted her to stop laughing. I could have spent the whole night just listening to her laugh. Even when she asked me about the girls and wanted to hear about one of the dates I’ve been on. I omitted telling her that I didn’t even score with said girl. Instead, we both passed out mid-make-out session, and when she rolled over the next morning and kicked me in the balls, that is when I woke up. The woman thought I had game, if only she knew how many times I’ve gone home alone instead of with someone.
When we walked out of the restaurant and she turned to me, the wind blowing her hair, her cheeks a slight pink, and her lips were so plump they were dying to be kissed. Or at least I was dying to kiss her. My head moved before my brain realized what it was doing, and at the last minute, I went for the cheek. I ran out of there so fast I didn’t even get to ask for her number. I got in the car, and if she wasn’t close by, I would have screamed out my frustration.
Starting the car, I pull out of the parking spot. I look over at her, and her head is down as she types on her phone. Driving slowly in front of the restaurant, I stop beside her. Her head is down as I press the button for the window to roll down. “You are not Riccardo.” She laughs back at her phone. “Definitely not Riccardo. He’s driving a Honda Civic, and this is not a Honda Civic.”
She bends, and her blond hair falls to the side of her face. “I am not Riccardo,” I say. “Get in the car.”
She gasps. “Absolutely not.” She shakes her head furiously. “You’ve done enough for the night.” She puts her hands on her legs. “I can say you have done it for the month. No more good deeds.”
I just look at her as she stays leaned over, and I can see the black lace bra under that flimsy satin top. The whole night I kept looking at the thin straps and wondered how it would feel with me pulling them down. “So you can either get in the car.” I look at her and then ahead and then back to her. “Or I wait for your Uber and follow him to make sure that you get home okay.”
“Or you can pretend I’m not here,” she says, and I want to tell her there is no way I could do that, nor do I want to do it.
I lean more into the seat so she can see my eyes. “You don’t know my father or my uncle,” I say, shaking my head. “But if you did, you would know that if I left you out here by yourself, they would kick my ass.” I close my eyes. “Tag team and then both of them together.” My voice goes soft. “Get in the car, Jillian.”
She steps off the sidewalk and puts her arm on the window. Just being near her and her scent has my cock waking up. I don’t think I’ve ever been drawn to a woman like this before. “You really aren’t going to leave?” I shake my head. “You really are that perfect,” she says, and I pfft out.
“Trust me, I’m far from perfect.” If only she knew what the fuck hell I just went through, she would know I’m not perfect.
The door opens, and she gets in. “I have to cancel Riccardo,” she says, taking her phone and canceling her ride. She turns and looks at me. “My mother would not be happy with me. The whole stranger-danger thing.”
“I think she would be less happy about you getting into a stranger’s car,” I say, and she looks at me.
“I met you an hour ago,” she points out.
“You don’t even know Riccardo.” That’s all I can say as I put the SUV in drive and take off. Turning right, I look over at her as she laughs. “Now, where do you live?”
