Chapter 2

Eliza

“It took me over an hour and a half to get here.”

I look across the table at my date, Chad Michael, and force myself to smile. “You’ve said that a few times now.”

He leans back in his seat, the chair protesting his weight. He is a little taller than my 5’2” self, with wide shoulders and a wee bit more overweight than his picture suggested. He is very handsome, charismatic, and is a private jet coordinator for the Knoxville airport. I met him on a dating app, and we’ve been chatting for two weeks. When he suggested meeting up, I was all for it. I figured, the dating pool in Blitz is a huge dumpster fire of filth, so why not venture out of town. Nothing is truly holding me here, and if the right guy came along, I wouldn’t feel bad leaving.

Yes, my sisters live here—minus my middle sister, Austen, who lives in Nashville—but we’re all doing our own thing. Really, we just want one another to be happy. So if I can find someone who does that, I will leave this town. But one thing is for sure, Chad Michael won’t be the one I leave for. I only like him when it’s through a phone, apparently.

In person, he is less than desirable.

“I just want you to know it was a trek.”

I force myself not to roll my eyes before meeting his brown ones. “You’re starting to make me feel like the drive wasn’t worth it.”

He shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t think we’d be here this long.”

My brows knit together. “Do you not like it here?” I ask since this is my favorite restaurant in town. Yeah, it’s a small diner that slings hash and eggs in the mornings, but all the food is divine! “This is my go-to place.”

“It’s not that. The food is great, the company even better,” he says before leaning on the table that separates us. Thank God. “I just thought we’d be back at your place by now.”

Why am I surprised by his comment? I should have known from the top that he only came here for sex. Truly, after he told me how long it took to get here for the third time. Instead, I kept pushing, thinking maybe this could be it. But it’s not. Not even kinda. Is it too much to ask for a connection before sex?

Maybe it is, and I’m a fool for wanting something other than that. I could blame my past—that need to be loved for who I am and not what my body can offer—but I know it’s due to the romance books that I find myself obsessed with in my sister’s shop. They give me unrealistic expectations and hope for that all-consuming kind of love that sweeps you away and leaves you breathless for more. I have been on the dating scene for years now, and I haven’t been swept away at all.

More like kicked in the pussy—and not in a sexy way.

After watching my sister Austen fall in love, I wanted so badly to have what she did. Then I started reading romance novels. And God, the way the main male characters bend over backward for their girl, set the world on fire, and commit to them so easily, has done nothing but set me up for failure. Or, at least, I thought it did.

But then I watched my eldest sister, Louisa, fall in love. I had front-row seats to her fiancé worshiping her like she is the goddess of his life. I watched her heal through his love and truly find happiness. I live with them, and every day is a constant reminder of what I don’t have. I’ve never seen my sisters so happy. Both men just adore them, and I want that. I need that. I deserve that.

Looking across the table at Chad Michael, though, I don’t know if romance is in my cards.

“I assume you’re speaking of hooking up?” I ask before draining my wine.

“Yeah. I didn’t drive up here for nothing,” he says with a laugh before waggling his brows at me.

“Did I lead you to believe we would be hooking up?”

He eyes me, and I can see his frustration, his annoyance, but he’s got another think coming if he is under the illusion that I care one bit. “No, but we click.”

“Do we now?” I ask, reaching for the bottle and refilling my glass when he doesn’t move to do so. Bastard. “I’m sorry you feel the click, but I don’t, and I have no intention of sleeping with you.”

His jaw actually drops, and I’m floored by the audacity of this dude. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

I bring the glass to my lips as he asks, “Can I change your mind?”

I scoff. “I doubt it.”

“It’ll be quick, and you’ll get off.”

My pussy clenches at his words. She’s a horny thing. Down, girl. “It’ll be quick?” I ask incredulously, because who the hell says that like it’s a good thing?

“Yeah, in and out, boom, bam. We can go to the bathroom. It’s not like we’ll be doing oral, and I’ve got a condom.”

Of course, he says that just as I take a sip of my wine. I choke instantly, pressing my hand to my chest as I set down the glass. I gawk at him. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flush, and I know for a fact this dude isn’t embarrassed. “It wouldn’t take long. It’s not like I’m going down on you or anything. We can meet in the bathroom.”

“Oh, you’ve got this planned out?”

His cheeks rise with the force of his toothy grin. Ew. “Yup, and it’ll be good.”

I lean on my hand. “Will it?” I ask, but I don’t think he senses my sarcasm.

“Yeah, baby, it will be.”

“So, let me get this straight.” I pin him with a look. “You want me to go to the bathroom, where you’ll drive your dick in me until you come, and hope I get off?”

“Yeah, my dick will do the job. It’ll be quick and enjoyable.”

Surely this is a dream. I look down at my wrist and pinch myself. My skin stings and my heart races. Nope, this is real life. “For you, since you’ll be getting off.”

“I guess I could finger you.”

“Please don’t strain yourself on my account,” I throw back dryly.

He gives me a wry look. “I don’t do oral. I don’t like the taste of women.”

And I’m done. I drain my glass and then set it down.

“You’re ready?” he asks.

“Absolutely not.”

I stand up, opening my purse for the only cash I’ve got. A hundred-dollar bill that Louisa gave me to pay the plumber who is coming tomorrow since she went to Nashville to watch her fiancé Ciaran play hockey for the Nashville Assassins.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. And a bit of advice,” I say, throwing the bill on the table. “Learn to enjoy the taste of women, and then, fuck right the hell off.”

I walk away, and I hear him call me something, probably a bitch. But I don’t care. I’m fucking done. I don’t really understand why dating is so hard in this world. It’s honestly like World War Three, and I keep taking the hits left and right.

It’d be really great if men weren’t so fucking stupid.

And if they do have to be so stupid, at least let them like eating pussy.