“Anytime, sweetheart. Sorry for the scare.”
“Me too. Next time just ask the man out, will you?” It was ridiculous, the lengths women went to get a man to notice them when there were matchmakers who could help, without the injuries.
She sighed. “You don’t get it, Eva. I’ve left an impression. You’ll see.”
“All right, Mama, if you say so.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow. Try to stay out of trouble until they discharge you, okay?”
She shrugged. “I make no promises.”
Of course not, she was far too crafty to say anything that could be used against her at a later date. It was a strategy I used with difficult clients and I had learned it from the best. “Bye, Mama.”
“Ignoring me doesn’t make me wrong,” she called to my retreating back, but I knew better than to stay and argue with her. She’d would walk me into a trap bigger than the one I’d set for myself by agreeing to turn Oliver into husband material.Oliver“Some people can’t see the difference between cream and ecru, but there is a different—a big one. It’s an important skill for every bride-to-be to have.” Priscilla Evans was my worst nightmare come to life, proof I wasn’t looking for that matchmaking was a scam.
“I thought brides wore white?” It was a ridiculous question, considering the last thing I wanted was for this insane woman to continue talking about all the details about a wedding that, based on the past forty-five minutes, would never take place. Ever.
Priscilla sighed and rolled her eyes. “White is traditional, but shades of off-white or cream are more elegant and sophisticated. This is why women plan the weddings,” she grumbled as if I offended her. “Have you even given thought to the colors of your wedding, Oliver?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “When I get married, it’ll be about the marriage.”
“Of course, it is,” she insisted, clearly insulted. “But the wedding day sets the tone.”
Bullshit. “If you say so.” It was bad etiquette just from a human standpoint, but I couldn’t help but glance at my watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.
“Am I boring you?”
Another minefield question that a smarter man might have dodged, but I wasn’t feeling so smart. Or charitable, not when Eva sat at the bar watching my misery while she flirted with the bearded bartender. “Kind of, yes.”
“Well.” She sniffed the air, as if she were on the brink of tears. “Weddings are very important.”
“Agreed. To people engaged to be married and those working in marriage-related fields. Not to first dates.”
“Your profile made you seem different, like you weren’t bound by arbitrary rules.”
“I’m not, at all. But I don’t know anything about you, other than that you are obsessed with weddings—a topic that holds little interest to me at the moment. Why would I want a second date with you?”
The moment her bottom lip began to tremble, I felt like the world’s biggest asshole. I was like every other male on the planet when it came to women’s tears: I couldn’t handle them at all. Luckily, Priscilla stood and fled the table so I wouldn’t have to.
“Real smooth, Romeo.” Eva’s husky voice sounded in my ear, startling me out of my thoughts.
She was dressed up as usual, but the skirt hugged her hips and thighs, teasing all the parts of me they shouldn’t, and the proper cardigan only heightened my attraction to her. The wrong woman.
For me, the wrongest.
“Thanks. I was trying for honesty, I heard somewhere that women like that crap.”
Heat flared in her eyes and Eva stood, putting distance between us as she folded her arms in that disapproving schoolteacher way that pushed her tits up and out. “Honesty, yes. Brutal honesty? No.”
I shrugged. “She only talked about weddings, Eva. How was I supposed to even try to relate to that?”
She sighed in defeat, shoulders slumped just enough that I caught a glimpse of the black lace under her dress. “You weren’t. I’ll have a talk with Priscilla and you… sit at the bar and don’t talk to anyone.” She pointed a long finger—painted a deep, dark red color—at me, stared long and hard, and then marched off.
Eva Vargas was one hot number. She had curves for days and enough attitude that I knew she’d be a wildcat in the bedroom, it was too damn bad she had visions of picket fences and PTA meetings dancing in her pretty little head. I couldn’t deny the fact that I wanted her, even more the more time I spent with her.
And the more she seemed to despise me. Mostly. There were a few moments I caught a hint of attraction, but she was better at hiding it.
The moment Eva entered the bar again, I felt it. Felt the air change around me. Instead of turning to watch her, I kept my gaze fixed on the mirror behind the bar, watching as she talked softly to Priscilla, rubbing her back in soothing circles, probably telling her she’d dodged a bullet with me. She walked the woman to the door, offering up what appeared to be encouraging words before sending her off with a smile and a wave.