Saint & Sinner - A Second Chance Romance

My hand tightened around my phone. “Be honest with me, Sandra. Wouldn’t he have tried to at least get to know me better if he was really interested?”

“Not necessarily. Every man reacts differently so stop overthinking this or you’ll ruin it for yourself. I always look at the worst-case scenario before I go into any situation and decide if I can live with it. In this case, he’s not interested in you and he just wants a one-night stand.” She shrugs carelessly. “So what? Bang his brains out. Trust me, a man like him will make a fantastic one-night stand. Those muscles. Those big, strong hands. Those thighs. And that bulge. Hell, he has a big bulge in his pants. You can go all night long with a bulge like that.”

I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but she didn’t understand. I would die if all he wanted from me was a one-night stand. Even thinking he only wanted a one-night stand with me made me feel sick to my stomach. “You shouldn’t have asked him for his number. Maybe he’s not trying so hard now because I didn’t make him work for it.”

Sandra straightened then, and turned to me. “You did not just say that.”

“I did.” I sighed. “My brain’s starting to malfunction, but then again it could be the truth.”

She came to the counter and handed the jacket over. “Relax, babe. This isn’t a marriage proposal. Didn’t he contact you about the location and time? And he got your opinion on it before he went ahead with arrangements. In my book that’s adequate effort. He’s interested. Plus, he’s taking you to The Ivy. No man is going to spend that kind of money on a one-night stand. So… go on the date, and if he turns out to be a jackass looking for a wet hole, then come back to me with the story. Just remember if you don’t want to oblige, I’ll be happy to be his very wet hole.” She grinned broadly.

I shook my head at her, some of the tension leaving me. Sandra was a good egg. She’d always been there for me. And me her. “You’re bad, you know.”

“Bad? I’m downright wicked. Maybe l’ll teach you some moves you can make on him.”

I giggled as I placed my phone on the counter, and began to slip my arms into the jacket. “I’m still waiting for him to send a text to cancel.”

She searched my face, her expression serious. “Oh, my God, you think you’re not good enough for him.”

“It’s not that exactly, but I can’t help feeling he is out of my league. To start with he looks like a movie star and he’s obviously super successful. I mean, what’s he even doing in this town when LA is just around the corner?”

“Well you can ask him these burning questions on your date tonight, can’t you?” She came over then to pull me away from the counter. “And plus, you’re not out of his league. I would kill for your hair and your eyes. I would do even worse things for that body of yours. And you’re real smart. This flower shop will become successful one day and you’ll make a shit ton of money, most of which you’ll send to me as an allowance for being such a good friend. But let’s not talk about the future yet. Right now, it’s past seven and you need to get going, or you’ll be late to the restaurant.”

“I could get stood up,” I muttered as I grabbed my purse and walked towards the door.

“In that case grab a cab and come right back here. I have Champagne. We’ll make our own party.”

I stopped at her statement, fear gripping my stomach. “Really, that’s your response.”

“What else do you want me to say? No, Willow, you’re too good to be stood up. I’ve been stood up at least five times in my life while you haven’t, even once. You can’t live your life as squeaky clean as that, so go strut that virgin pussy of yours out in the world and be disregarded like the rest of us. Have you called an Uber?”

“I’m taking the van.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re going to arrive at the date in this hideous van? You’re wearing a four-hundred-dollar dress. My four-hundred-dollar dress!”

“You bought it in a sale for a hundred and fifty dollars,’ I threw over my shoulder as I hurried outside before she could stop me. She followed me out.

‘I’m not going to waste my money on an Uber when this works perfectly well,” I said, as I jumped into the rickety, washed out van and locked the doors so that she wouldn’t be able to open it.

She grabbed onto the door handle and tried to pull the driver’s door open. “This is why he’s going to dump you after the first date. Open this freaking door. I’ll pay for the damn Uber.”