“But it’d be okay for your brother to?”
“If I had one … I don’t know. I think having a roommate is a good thing. And not just for safety.”
“Yeah, well, this is San Francisco. Everyone has a roommate,” I reply. “I actually live with my brother, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be out for the evening.”
“Ah, yeah, the model,” he replies.
“Yep, that one was kind of hard to miss,” I say with a laugh. “But I’m surprised you notice that stuff, being in the kitchen most of the time.”
“Oh, the servers talk,” he assures me. “But she tried to get me on her hook before she went after your brother. You picked some seriously horny influencers.”
My eyebrows jump to my hairline. “And you didn’t take the bait?” I ask incredulously.
He gives me a meaningful look. “Not a chance in hell.”
“And if I hadn’t been there?” I challenge.
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
I bite my bottom lip, but it doesn’t stop the laugh that erupts from me. “Okay, okay, fair enough. Thanks for the ride home, Drew.”
He releases his seatbelt. “Oh, I’m walking you to the door, make no mistake about that.”
Before I can protest, he’s out, closed his door, and walked around to open my door.
I roll my eyes and extricate myself from the car, fishing the key out of my hidden pocket as I head up the stairs and approach the door.
He hovers on the top step, leaving enough distance to demonstrate that he’s not expecting anything.
“Is this the part where you ask for my phone number?” I tease.
He grins. “No, this is the part where I ask you out,” he says bluntly. “Have dinner with me on Monday?”
A frown creases my face. “That’s a work night.” The words spill out before I can stop them.
“Not a problem for me. But isn’t tonight a work night for you?”
I shrug. “I don’t usually stay out this late on work nights.”
“I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
“I still don’t get why you’re not just asking for my phone number,” I tease. “You know, baby steps.”
“Go out with me on Monday, and if it goes well, then I’ll ask for your phone number.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is. You don’t want to bother getting my digits until you’ve decided whether I’m worth it or not.” Even I can’t tell if I’m teasing anymore.
He shakes his head and climbs up the last step, towering over me. “If we exchange numbers, you could cancel. And I already feel like there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance you’ll bail. If you have my number, those odds get worse.”
“That’s some messed up logic,” I reply, struggling to form words as I look up at him.
“Have dinner with me on Monday,” he persists. “Please.”
“Well, since you said please.”
His answering grin crinkles the corners of his eyes and my heart stutters in my chest. He is too gorgeous.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Not trusting myself to speak anymore, I simply nod. I slip out of his jacket and hand it back to him. As he takes it from me, I’m careful not to let his fingers brush mine, afraid of what I might See.
“Goodnight, CJ.” He moves back onto the top step.
“’Night, Drew,” I reply.
Turning, I slip the key into the lock and open the door. I give him a small wave once I’m inside and he waves back. Before I lose my resolve, I close and lock the door.
Chapter Five
DREW
On Monday night, at seven sharp, I’m standing on her doorstep. I haven’t been able to get this chick out of my head, and I can’t fucking wait to see her. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited for a date. I usually hate dating. A lot of work and a lot of hassle for not a lot of payoff. But CJ … I knew from the moment I saw her that she was worth it.
I reach up and knock. Moments later, there’s a screech and a series of thumps. My heart leaps into my throat. I pause for a moment, listening, for what I don’t know.
When I don’t hear anything, I bang on the door. “CJ,” I call. “Everything okay in there?”
A few moments later, I hear the locks turning and the door opens to a flushed and disheveled CJ. Still, she’s gorgeous, in dark jeans that look painted on her slim legs and a pink V-neck top that shows a hint of cleavage under a black leather motorcycle jacket. Classy but edgy, she’s fucking adorable … and a total mess.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I ask, reaching a hand toward her face.
She pulls back and I remember her not shaking hands, and I feel like an idiot for not realizing that meant she might not be down for me to touch her at all yet. Still, it kind of stings.
“I just tripped,” she replies. I can’t tell if she’s blushing or if she’s just flustered from her fall. “Hey.” She gives me a small, apologetic smile, then winces and shifts off of her right leg.
“Hey,” I say with a small smile. “Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you sit down for a bit, let me look at that leg.”
She hesitates but finally responds, “That’s probably a good idea.” She sighs, scooting back on her good leg so I can come in.
I step over the threshold, and she closes the door behind me. I can tell even that is hard for her, and I peer down, tempted to pick her up just to get her off that leg.
“Don’t even think about carrying me,” she cautions me, holding up a finger.
A shit-eating grin breaks over my face. “Too late, I already thought about it. But I won’t if you don’t want me to.” I offer her an arm, and she accepts it, letting me help her hobble into the living room. She’s adorably determined to move on her own.
“I’m so sorry about this,” she says as she sinks into the couch.
I glance around the small, homey living room. It’s warm and comfortable, and smells just like her. I’m immediately at ease, which doesn’t happen often.
“Don’t be. It’s not like you planned to hurt yourself.”
I settle myself on the ottoman in front of her, snatching a throw pillow from the armchair next to me. I gingerly lift her leg, being careful not to hurt her, and place the pillow under it for support, before sliding off her shoe. She hisses in pain and I grimace apologetically. Unfortunately, the shoe had to come off so I can see how bad it is.
I peel her sock down and she sucks in a sharp breath. I look up, realizing her aversion to touch may go even further than I thought.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
Eyes wide, she pauses for a minute while my hand rests on her skin, like she’s trying to decide. Finally, she nods. I finish removing her sock and gently slide my fingers over her now-swollen foot and ankle, focusing on feeling for anything worse. I flex her foot up and down gently, but it doesn’t seem to get any reaction.
“Well, it’s probably not broken,” I mutter, setting her ankle down on the soft surface of the ottoman. “But looks like you sprained it pretty good.”