Chapter 2

chapter

two

Charlotte

Being a thirtysomething single woman has its benefits. Primarily a newfound confidence in yourself. First of all, I'm hilarious. Okay, let's just get this out in the open. I've always been the designated funny, fat friend. I own it. I'm okay with it. Because frankly, I'd rather be funny than beautiful.

Not that I'm unattractive. Nope, I've got great hair, a pretty smile with deep dimples and great tits. Yes, I also have a big ass, my thighs have never NOT touched, and I've got a soft, squishy belly.

But I'm confident nonetheless.

At least, I normally am. Ninety percent of the time, I own my bad-ass-bitchery. Unfortunately, right now, I'm veering uncomfortably close to that ten percent of the time when I doubt myself and all my life decisions.

Why, you may ask, am I'm doubting myself?

Isn't it obvious?

I am doubting myself for the same reason that every woman in the modern world doubts herself: men on the internet.

Specifically, men on internet dating apps.

Even more specifically, the man I've been talking to online for the past two months who said he was ready to meet in person but is now fifty-seven minutes late for our "date."

Brian and I live in separate cities. Normally, that would be a non-starter for me, but Dallas and Austin aren't that far apart. And I travel to Dallas for work sometimes. So when he first pinged me, I decided to give him a shot. After two months of chatting, I asked if he wanted to meet in person. I have an overnight layover for my work travel in DFW. Since my flight to Amsterdam leaves at five in the morning, flying into DFW and booking a room at a nearby hotel seemed like a no brainer. Asking Brian to meet for drinks at the airport bar seemed equally reasonable.

But he hasn't shown up or messaged me and now I'm worried that he did show up, took one look at me, and walked away. And no amount of jokes at his expense from my sister, Chelsea, via text and then phone call are helping much.

Sure, Chelsea is a hoot, and I couldn't love her more for verbally abusing a man she's never met in my defense, but still … it would have been nice if Brian had been amazing. Been the one … or at least, you know, present.

But it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into.

Internet dating is not for the faint of heart. Even though it's been around for more than two decades and is completely normalized now, there are still risks. Weirdos, catfishers, and the socially awkward that were originally drawn to online dating. I'm not looking to join a Dungeons Dragons campaign, nor am I looking for a random hook-up.

It would be nice to be seen.

I'm still debating whether or not to cut and run or give Brian a little longer when movement from the doorway catches my attention. There's a big guy standing near the entrance. He's tall and broad and looks like a cross between a professional football player and an underwear model. Dark blond hair that's too long on top and curls in effortless waves, light eyes of an indeterminant color and a jaw you could grate cheese on. Really kind of shave that high quality parmesan where you get the thin little rectangles. I'm lost in my cheese thoughts when a throat clears. I look up into the cheese grater's face. Ohmygod, enough with the cheese!

"I think you've been looking for me," he says. His voice is deep and husky, yet playful at the same time.

I look up at him and gasp. His face… good heavens. It's like a young Brad Pitt and Chris Hemsworth had a love child and he's standing right in front of me. A modern-day Thor.

Wait, he said words to me. Something about me looking for him. I laugh. "I don't think you are who I am looking for."

Which is, admittedly, disappointing because surely this man—who I'm beginning to think is more of a man-boy because he's got to be at least ten years younger than me—is definitely not meeting women on dating apps.

He grins and says, "Well, I do know that you're who I've been looking for."

I roll my eyes but can't help but chuckle. "Smooth."

"Mind if I sit with you for a few?" he asks.

I motion to the chair across from me.

"You're adorable and a little ridiculous. But I needed that laugh, so thank you."

He winces and groans. His hand goes to his heart like he's in pain. "Adorable is the kiss of death when you"re trying to impress a lady."

"Are you trying to impress me?

"The prettiest woman I've ever seen. Hell yeah, I'm trying to impress you. I'm Max, by the way."

Is this guy for real? He thinks I'm the prettiest? Surely not. I mean I'm not ugly, but again, I'm older than this young buck who is definitely hot enough that he could have his pick of women anywhere on the planet. I lean over and glance behind him looking for a few more fraternity boys that might have put him up to this. "Am I being punked? Is that what this is?"

"Punked? For what?"

I just shrug and decide to let this play out. At the very least, whatever he's trying to do will be entertaining.

"Nice to meet you, Max, I'm Charlotte." I reach my hand across the table to him, and his enormous hand swallows up mine. It's warm and his grip is firm.

"It is very nice to meet you, Charlotte. And that's a pretty name."

"Thank you. My uh, parents, gave it to me."

He laughs and I swear my nipples tighten in response. Huh… that's never happened before. Maybe there's a chill in the air and I was too distracted to notice.

He nods to the book next to my right hand. "You've got the whole You've Got Mail thing going on with your book and flower." He smirks. "So I figured you're probably waiting for someone."

"That obvious?" I blow out a breath. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's a no-show, which is just as well because he lives here in Dallas and I don't."

"Well, he's an idiot to stand you up." His eyes fall back to my book, and then he grins broadly. "Nice flower," he winks.

I pull the brightly colored flower out of the copy of Pride and Prejudice. "It's a pen," I wave it in front of him. "I couldn't find any live roses. And though it might make me childish, I've always loved quirky pens and kitschy crap." Then I frown. "Wait, you know You've Got Mail? The movie with Meg Ryan?"

He grins again and I've decided that particular smile is the panty dropper. Wow. He's stupidly hot. And again, I find myself wondering what the hell he's doing sitting at my table.

"Yes, I know that movie. Rom-coms are my favorite," he says.

I quirk a brow at him. "Rom-coms? Not action flicks like Zombies vs. Vampires?"

His nose wrinkles. "Is that a real movie? That sounds terrible."

I laugh. "No. At least I don't think it's a real movie."

"But yeah, I love rom-coms." He points at his chest. "I have two older sisters. They pretty much raised me. They started me on the great teen romances like She's All That and 10 Things I Hate About You. Gotta admit though I really loved Easy A. Something about Emma Stone's snark." He shakes his head, but he's looking at me as he says it. As though it's me he's complimenting and not Emma Stone. "Sexy."

"Okay, so then after the teen romances, what did they show you?"

"The classics like When Harry Met Sally, obviously You've Got Mail. I wasn't much a fan of Sleepless in Seattle."

"They aren't on the screen together enough," I say.

"Exactly. While You Were Sleeping is another great one. Love The Proposal."

I nod. "I'm impressed. Your sisters did a good job."

"I'll tell them you said that."

He glances to the windows on our left and the dark ominous Dallas sky. Lightning flashes across and then a boom of thunder rumbles by.

Phone alerts go off all around us. Announcements sound on the airport speaker system.

Max looks at his phone. "Well, that sucks." Then he shrugs and puts the phone in his pocket.

"What's happening," I ask.

"All flights are grounded tonight. Storm is too bad with the wind. They're expecting possible tornadoes."

I shudder. "I hate tornados."

He gives me a shit-eating grin. "As opposed to all those people who just love tornados?"

I roll my eyes. "There are some people who love them. Those crazy ones that chase them to get close-up videos."

"Fair."

"You should probably go to your gate and see what the airline's plan is for your flight," I say.

"You trying to get rid of me?"

"I didn't say that."

His hazel eyes lock on mine. "Will you be here when I get back?"

"Why are you working so hard to flirt with me?"

A line appears between his brows as he gives me a small frown. "What do you mean, why? Because you're beautiful."

I glance around the bar. "There are lots of pretty women in here."

He frowns and looks at the neighboring tables. "I hadn't noticed. Your laugh is what initially caught my attention." He bites down on his lip and tilts his head. "Admittedly, dimples are a weakness for me. Tell me you don't know you're beautiful."

I shake my head. "But there's obviously a significant age gap between us, surely you've noticed that."

"Age differences only matter until you're of legal age, then who gives a shit. We're just people. I don't care how old you are." He leans further across the small table. "I'm attracted to you."

I can't ignore the way my body reacts to his admission. The way my breath catches, my nipples tighten and my core clenches.

"Charlotte, I just want to spend some time with you, maybe get to know you a little more. Flights are grounded. What else is there for us to do?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Did Brian send you? Is this some kind of weird joke?"

Max's perfect jawline clenches. "I'm assuming Brian is the asshat that stood you up?"

"That would be him."

"And you're, what… imagining that he sent a random guy to come and pick you up instead? That would definitely make him an idiot."

"That's not exactly what I was thinking. But it doesn't matter." I take a deep breath and really look at the beautiful man sitting across from me. "Here's the thing, Max: I'm a confident woman. I know I'm not every man's dream, but I've got rocking curves. I'm smart, successful and financially solvent. I'm a catch."

I hold up two fingers and wave them between us. "That said, we are in way different leagues. Not just different leagues, but you, sir, are on a different planet of attractiveness than I am."

"And you think because you believe that nonsense, that means I couldn't possibly be hitting on you for real?" he asks.

I nod. "Something like that."

"Okay, then imagine we'd instead met at a club. I would have crossed that crowded, loud, smoke-filled room to ask you to dance."

"I might have said yes," I say.

A ghost of a grin crosses his lips. "I would have pulled you close to me. Got my hands on those rocking curves of yours. I would have held you next to my body knowing you'd be able to feel how much I wanted you."

I suck in a breath because damn, that's hot.

"Once I had you in my arms, I don't think I would have let you walk away. I sure as fuck wouldn't have let you dance with another man."

"Possessive," I say.

He nods. "I wouldn't have been able to resist asking you to come home with me. Wouldn't have been able to resist stealing a kiss."

I'm ridiculously turned on by the picture he's painting with his words. This man, young as he may be, has more game than any other man who's tried to pick me up.

There's a big part of me that would like to just invite him back to my hotel room and let him rock my world. Because there's no way, with a body like his, he won't be good in bed.