“I said,” I pause for a beat to come up with something. “I said that the beginning doesn’t matter. What matters is that the last few men I’ve dated have all been one and done.”
“One. And. Done,” he pauses for a beat after each word. “So one date and they’re done?”
“For the most part.” I laugh. “I can tell very early if there’s a connection or not. If I don’t feel a spark, I don’t see a reason to agree to a second date.”
“Ah.” He tilts his head. “You’re a woman who values her time.”
“Precisely,” I say as though it’s the truth.
I devote entirely too much time to binge-watching shows on the weekends. If I add in how much time I spend debating what to eat for dinner each night, I’d have to admit that I value indecision more than anything.
“Take the last guy I dated.” I can’t resist, so I go for the joke. “Please, take him.”
That doesn’t warrant a laugh from Dale, or even a smile.
“He was one of those men who always has to be right.” I roll my eyes. “You know the type.”
Dale nods. “Very well.”
Does that mean he’s that type? Did I just put my foot in my mouth?
I keep talking because I’m committed to finishing any story I start, especially if I can squeeze a compliment in. “If I would have told him that your eyes are iridescent blue like a sea in Greece, he would have told me that they’re yellow.”
“My eyes in particular?” He arches a brow.
I’m jealous. I have to apply eyeliner and two coats of mascara every morning to rim my eyes so they look just the way I like.
Dale has to exist.
Not fair.
“You have nice eyes,” I offer.
“As do you, Isabella.” He stares into my eyes. “Your eyes are the color of the sky when an intense storm is approaching. Countless shades of blue with specks of gray.”
I part my lips, but there are no words.
Literally. I sit and stare at him.
“So there was the argumentative one and done.” He swallows another mouthful of whiskey. “Who else couldn’t keep your attention?”
“There have been a few that fall squarely in the boring one and done category.” I wiggle my fingers in the air. ‘Too many to count.”
His eyes follow the movement of my hand. “They were banished immediately, were they?”
“I cut them loose quickly.” I laugh. “Out of fear of falling asleep in my dinner, of course.”
“Naturally,” he drawls. “Argumentative and boring men don’t cut it in Isabella’s world.”
“Or married men.” I shrug a shoulder. “That’s happened.”
His gaze skims over my face. “You’ve gone on a date with a married man?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I realized before I agreed to a date. So technically those men weren’t one and done. They were none and done.”
“As they should be,” he comments with a curve of his lips.
I sip the last remaining luscious drops of my cosmo. I glance around wondering why the waiter hasn’t brought us menus.