He looks back over his shoulder at me. “For twenty-five K, you best believe I will deliver you to your front door,” he says. I watch his ass as he walks away. “I know you’re watching me,” he says, not turning around.
“How do you know that?” I shout.
“Because if you walked away from me,” he says, stopping and looking at me, “you can bet your sweet ass that I’d be looking at you. Now let’s go.” He motions with his head. I start walking toward him, and he puts his hands on his hips. “See, I’m totally checking you out.”
“Smooth,” I say, and we walk through his house together toward the front door. The car is parked right out front. He opens the car door for me, and when we get to my house, I look over at him as my hand comes out to grab the door handle. “Thank you.”
He puts his back to the car door, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “The pleasure was all mine.” He looks at my house and then back at me. “I know that you’re expecting me to kiss you right now.”
“Oh my God,” I say, opening the door and putting one foot out. His hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me from getting out of the car.
“I want to kiss you,” he says softly. “But I don’t want you to kiss me because you think you have to. I want you to kiss me because you just can’t help yourself.” He lets go of my hand. “One of these days, gorgeous, you are going to beg me to kiss you.”
“Always so sure of yourself.” I get out of the car but then lean back in. “And just for the record, I would have let you kiss me.” His mouth opens wide in shock, and I close the door.
Walking up to my front door, I feel his eyes on me as I put my code into the front door. As soon as I get into the house, I slam the door without looking back to see if he was watching. I lock the door, and only when I hear his car drive away do I drop my head against the door and let myself relax.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, expecting someone to answer me. Pushing away from the door, I walk farther into the house without bothering to turn on any lights. Hearing my phone ding in my purse puts a smile across my face.
Miller: I had the most amazing time with you. Thank you for making today MY most romantic date ever.
I sit on the bed looking at the text but don’t respond. I’m not sure what to say when another text comes through.
Miller: Also I totally checked you out when you were walking away.
With a laugh, I put the phone down and slip off my shoes. Heading into the bathroom, I turn on the dim lights as I walk to the shower. The whole day plays over in my head as I lean back under the stream and let the warm water flow over me. His words play over and over in my mind. Marriage is a one-time thing for him. I can honestly say that he shocked the shit out of me with that one because I had him pegged as a bachelor for life—a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am kind of guy—and nothing like the man who had dinner with me.
He was compassionate, he was kind, he was genuine, and he was attentive. He wasn’t the cocky, arrogant guy I had built up in my head over these years, and for that, I felt horrible. I turn the water off and step out of the shower. Grabbing the white plush towel, I wrap it around me. I slip into bed naked and close my eyes, and all I can see is his smile. My night is filled with dreams of the kiss he never gave me.
The next morning when my alarm goes off, I stretch to grab my phone, then scroll up to see what I missed while I was asleep. A couple of emails, an Instagram alert, and then finally a text from Miller about an hour ago.
Miller: Have a great day, gorgeous.
I think about answering him, but instead, I open my emails, and I get sucked into Instagram. I scroll my feed and then my notifications when I see that Candace commented on Miller’s latest post. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I click the picture.
It’s the picture of the dishes on the table, and the caption is:
When you’d rather look into her eyes and hear her laughter than clean up.
I click on the comments and see several hundred women begging to have dinner with him. Candace leaves one, calling him a smooth operator. By the time I reach the end of the thread, I’m rolling my eyes, irritated that it bothers me. I make my coffee and go back to my bedroom to dress for work.