Want Me (Mess with Me 4) - Page 53
Seth takes a huge bite of his scone. “What are you thinking about over there?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t get quiet on me now. You told me you like to choke on meat the first time we met.”
My chest trembles with laughter. “Pretty sure that’s not what I said.”
“That’s what I heard,” he insists.
“It’s really nothing. Just, I have a confession.”
“Should I be worried?” For the first time since I arrived, he looks wary.
“That sentence sounds way more ominous than it actually is, I promise.”
He exhales heavily. “I hope so. You have no idea the kind of stuff people say to me. One woman I dated turned out to be a corporate spy who’d been assigned to get close to me. Then there was the limo driver who pretended to have cancer so I’d donate to his GoFundMe. I’ve had five paternity lawsuits from women that I’ve never even met.”
“Wow. It’s nothing like that. I just didn’t expect to like you so much.”
He places a hand over his chest and makes an exaggerated shocked face. “You didn’t?”
“No. I was expecting someone spoiled and entitled. Not someone I can actually talk to.”
His eyes stay on mine. “I knew we would have fun.”
“How could you tell? Did my scintillating closet conversation seduce you?”
“Your closet conversation was refreshing.”
The bustle of the coffee shop gets louder as more people file in. When I check the time on my phone, I’m legitimately sad to see that I only have about ten minutes left before I need to leave.
Seth nods to my phone. “You need to get back?”
“Soon, unfortunately. And I really mean that. I’m having fun.”
The smile that stretches across his face makes him look years younger. My initial i
mpression of him, as someone jaded who carries a heavy weight on his shoulders, was correct. Based on some of the random things he’s said (five paternity lawsuits?) I can tell he expects the worst from people. I get the impression that he doesn’t smile like this often.
“Would you like to have dinner sometime?”
“Dinner?”
“Yes. Us at a nice place eating a meal that takes a long time to consume.” He hangs his head. “I’m completely messing this up. I want to take you on a date.”
“We’re on a date.”
He scoffs. “This is not a date. Coffee is not a date.”
“It is so!”
“I have a sister. I know how these things work. Coffee is the date you make when you need an easy escape in case the guy is a serial killer.”
“I don’t think coffee would protect me. Besides the jury is still out on the serial killer thing.”
“There are no bodies in my backyard. I promise.”
“You have a backyard?”
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