“Are brownie points even a thing when you’re not in a relationship?”
“You’re avoiding the issue,” said Brooke. “Worst case scenario, you get a nice dinner and a chance to ream him out for his behavior on Saturday. Best case scenario, you find out who it is you really made a connection with. Isn’t it worth going to find out which one?”
~*~
By ten after seven, Dillon was certain Avery wasn’t going to show. He couldn’t really blame her if she didn’t. From her perspective, he’d lied. And then he’d deliberately gone about distracting her from her real date like some adolescent nut job.
Classy, dude.
Why had that seemed like a good idea? Class clown wasn’t exactly a selling point for a mature relationship. Not that he’d given a lot of thought to looking for a mature relationship before now.
Once he’d turned in his project on Monday—after two almost all nighters—he still hadn’t been able to get Avery out of his head. He knew he’d behaved badly, and his mama had raised him to apologize for bad behavior, so before he crashed, he went in search of a florist who was willing to deliver all the way to the Wishful City Hall. The gesture was a Hail Mary, and he wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish by talking her into dinner. He just…wanted another shot at making a better first impression.
Too bad life didn’t give you do overs on those.
He’d already unwrapped his silverware and drained his water glass—which did absolutely nothing to whet his parched mouth—when Avery appeared at the hostess station, looking gorgeous and…not entirely pleased to be there. Nerves and something like hope bumped up beneath his breastbone.
On his feet in an instant, Dillon rounded the table to pull out a chair as she crossed to him in a light blue dress and a pair of tall, strappy shoes that drew his eye unerringly to her well-toned legs.
Behave, he ordered himself.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.
She gave him a long look with those catlike green eyes. “I almost didn’t.”
“Then I thank you for changing your mind.” He gestured to the chair, and after a moment’s hesitation, she sat.
Dillon’s hand brushed her bare shoulder as he pushed in the chair, and he felt the zing of it up the whole length of his arm.
Don’t screw this up.
The waiter appeared for Avery’s drink order. Dillon took the fact that she ordered a glass of chardonnay as a sign that maybe she meant to stay. Or maybe she just wanted something with a little bite to toss in his face.
When they were alone again, she said, “Was anything you told me actually true?”
Dillon didn’t hesitate. “All of it.”
She lifted one dark brow in askance.
“I never lied to you, Avery. You just showed up and sat down and started talking.”
“And you managed to talk back for almost an hour without mentioning that I’d made a mistake.”
“I’ll own that. But you’re interesting and beautiful and I didn’t want you to leave. So I might have sidestepped the truth to avoid lying.”
She didn’t soften at his feeble attempt at charm. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Just telling it like it is. You started the whole thing when you brought me coffee.”
“That was all Daniel’s doing.”
If this worked out, Dillon totally owed the barista a beer or something.
“Nevertheless, a wise man doesn’t turn away a beautiful woman with delicious stimulants. Even if he did have a behemoth group project he had to finish by himself on a deadline.”
“Is that why you were there that day?”
“My roommate was surgically attached to the Xbox. I needed some quiet, so I came down here to work. Or try to work. Then you showed up.”