Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

He’d said that? To Jeff?

“Jeff, I—”

“Is he the reason, Dahlia?”

I knew what he was asking. Was Michael the reason I’d broken things off with him? “Yes.”

“Then why are you here with me and he’s over there with Dana?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Only if you make it complicated.” He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to me with a playful smirk. “And it looks like Mike isn’t trying hard enough.” He bent his head to my ear, rested his hand on my hip, and whispered, “Maybe I should give him a little push.”

My eyes flew to Michael. His features were taut as he watched Jeff and me. Then quite abruptly, he nudged Dana aside to make his way toward us. Jeff had already retreated. My heart raced like a jackhammer.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Kell’s voice boomed over the PA system and stopped Michael in his tracks. “Welcome to Hartwell’s first-ever speed-dating event. I’ll now ask the ladies to take a seat on this side of the room”—he gestured to the chairs that had their backs to the entrance—“and the gentlemen to take the seats opposite. When the bell sounds, you can commence flirting. When the bell sounds again, we’ll ask the gentlemen to move one seat to their right.”

I shot Jeff a worried look. “I don’t think playing games with one of your employees is a particularly good idea, Jeff.”

“Who says I’m playing games?” His expression was hot.

Oh, great. Just what I needed. More unwanted male attention.

Why the hell had I let Kell talk me into this?

I avoided Michael as I crossed the room to take one of the last seats left. The men were already taking their seats, which meant Michael and Jeff were two of the last to do so as well. Jeff grabbed a chair four places to my left and Michael was three to my right.

My smile was pained as I scanned the guy across from me. He looked to be in his late to early forties, balding, skinny, and had a pinched, mouse-like countenance. His shirt was buttoned up to his throat, and I winced. Could he even breathe?

The bell rang, and Mousy Man spoke first. Loudly. “You’re not my type.”

My eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“I thought I’d put that out there, so we don’t waste any time here.”

Unsurprisingly, this was not the rudest thing a guy had said to me on a date. “I gather you’re only interested in women for their physical appearance?”

Mousy Man frowned. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me speak before you determined I wasn’t your type, so I must politely disagree.”

“Uh … well …” He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just … I like my women thin.”

“Did I hear you correctly?” Michael said from my right.

He was apparently not paying attention to the woman across from him but listening in on my “date.”

“Michael,” I warned.

“Do you have a problem?” Mousy Man asked Michael.

Michael leaned past the guys next to him to glare at my date. “You watch your manners.”

Everyone on our side of the table grew quiet.

Then I heard Jeff pipe up. “Problem down there?”

Oh my God, kill me now.