Chapter Nine

Bec

I lied; this city is full of douchebaggery to the highest degree. I’m a heartbeat away from faking an “emergency” text to get me out of this horrific date. I can’t believe I’m wasting my Friday night on this guy.

“And then my boss goes, Doug, you can’t just walk out of the meeting. I looked her up and down and reminded her, I’m the CEO’s nephew, and he signs her paychecks. I don’t have to do anything. Psssh , her face, I wish you could have seen it. She was practically purple; she was so pissed.”

What…the actual…fuck?

This is the last time I swipe right for anyone whose career is listed as finance in their profile. I should have known after how things worked out—or didn’t work out—with Josh to just avoid the entire financial-man species.

Doug is hot, arrogant, and repulsive. Sounds a little contradictory? Well shit, I have eyes. I can’t deny he’s gorgeous, but if he opens his mouth one more time, I may vomit all over the table.

He’s been talking about work for fifteen minutes straight and how he acts like an entitled prick, shitting all over his coworkers. All this after he asked me to take a picture of him for his online content because he looks “too hot to ignore.” Not a picture of the two of us. A picture of him, alone, giving me a smoldering look and then several of him looking off into the distance all moody, like I was the fucking paparazzi catching him candidly for his fans. Yes, he called his social media followers his fans.

Okay, maybe I should have faked that text already.

“So, Beckett…” Yeah, not my name, buddy. But nice try. I’m not going to waste my time correcting him. With any luck, I’ll never see him again after tonight. “What do you do?” he asks.

I don’t know whether I should be impressed that he stopped talking about himself long enough to ask a question about me or if I should be even more irritated that he didn’t at least skim over my profile before our date to see that I very clearly listed that I’m a dog trainer. Why am I not surprised by the lack of effort?

At this point, we’ve eaten, split a bottle of wine, and declined dessert. All I have to do is get through the split-the-check dance I insist on playing at the end of a date to avoid the people-pleasers guilt syndrome, and then I can run home and throw on my baggiest pajamas and fall asleep watching the cheesiest rom-com I can find. I need a quick reminder that there are men out there who are the complete opposite of Doug. Even if those men are fictional and most likely written by women, but whatever.

I can’t believe I bothered buying a new dress for this date. What a waste. I got caught up in the excitement of it all. I’ve gone on a handful of terrible dates since the breakup, but it’s been a while since I matched with someone who seemed cool. I feel like I’m being catfished, or this guy paid someone to answer the questions for him. Not one part of his profile screamed asshole, but the facts are right in front of me.

“I’m a dog trainer. I work with families, service dogs, therapy dogs, and one of the local shelters,” I say before draining the rest of my wine glass.

I’ll have to come back here with the girls sometime. This restaurant has a chill vibe with natural wood tables, dark forest green walls, black ceiling, gold sconces with intricate, vintage detail, giving off low amber lighting, and there’s some indie folk melody humming in the background. Perfect ambience for a night out, current company excluded.

“Oh, really? Well, that sounds like a fun job. What do you plan to do next? Are you still in school?” He’s scrolling through his phone, not even looking at me.

Seriously, what a dick.

“What do you mean?” I close my hands into tight fists in my lap, digging my nails into my palm before letting go. I can feel blood rushing to my head and my face getting hot.

Is he seriously suggesting that my career isn’t legitimate?

“Well, I assume that’s not the long-term plan. Not much money in that, I figure.” He sips at his wine, still scrolling through his phone. I want to scream but manage to stay levelheaded. I’ll be pissed if he gets me worked up enough to embarrass myself. Who is he to make me feel like I have to defend myself for choosing a career I love?

“I didn’t choose my career for the money , Doug. I love what I do and I’m damn good at it.”

“Yeah, sure. You won’t need to worry about all that once you have a husband and a family anyway. Makes sense.”

Oh. Fuck. No.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting a spouse and a family and making that the priority, but for him to just assume that I’d want that in place of my career…yeah, I’m done.

“Okay, well, that’s enough for me. This should cover my half of the meal.” I toss down some cash because—fuck this guy. I don’t want anything from him, not even a free meal .

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to invite me over to your place?”

Never in a million years would I be that desperate.

I was right to ignore the dating apps if this is what’s waiting for me. I’m deleting them as soon as I get home. I’d rather spend my entire adult life without a partner than share a meal with another Doug.

“No, this isn’t going anywhere. Tonight was…well, it was something.” God, I wish I had Dee’s fire for thirty seconds so I could tell this guy exactly what I thought of this date. But the people pleaser in me makes her final appearance for the night and convinces me to ignore him. She’s a stubborn bitch.

It’s beyond time to leave and be done with this night. He’s not worth any more of my time or energy, and my words would bounce right off his skull anyway.

I grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, and go to stand, my chair sliding back along the wood floors with a creaky whine. I feel my chair catch as it runs right into someone as they pass by our table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” I turn around and find a familiar face staring back at me. “Aiden, hey. What are you doing here?” He’s standing just a few inches away from me as I look up at him. He hasn’t stepped back, and I’m still wedged between my chair and the table. His presence commands every bit of my attention, the scent of him and his cologne mixed together is intoxicating. The intensity of his stare has a way of lighting a fire in me, feeling way more than friendly. A quick perusal of his outfit only confirms that this man is too fine for his own good. It’s not fair for him to make normal clothes—white sneakers; fitted, dark jeans; a gray T-shirt; and a black bomber jacket—look that good.

“Bec, wow, you look…you look incredible.” I like hearing that from Aiden far more than I should. I can’t help but smile in response.

I don’t fully understand the relief I feel now that he’s here. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent the night counting down the uncomfortable minutes left of my date with Doug. Or maybe it’s just Aiden. When I’m not psyching myself out over our weird history, or eye-fucking his bangin’ bod, it’s easy to remember how soothing his presence is. Calm, confident, steady, safe. It’s both a comfort and a thrill being near him.

“Beckett, if you want to split it evenly, you owe me five more bucks.” I hear Doug call out distractedly from behind me. I glance back at him to see he has the check in front of him, and yet he’s still scanning through his phone. God, he’s such a tool. “Bye, Doug.”

I feel Aiden lean in and place his hand on the small of my back. “Hey, you have a few minutes? My table is over here. Come sit for a second?” he asks.

I nod, letting him guide me to a booth with high walls, giving the space a private feel. I sit down and he leans in close, caging me in, one hand behind me on the back of the booth, the other grabbing my hand in my lap for just a second and squeezing it. “Hang tight,” he says. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” I nod again, unsure of why he wants me to sit here, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach from the close contact. But having him near, looking at me like that makes me want to stay and find out.

I watch Aiden walk away, my eyes going wide when I see him stop at my table with Doug. He leans over, wearing a neutral expression, speaking calmly. But Doug…Doug puts his phone down, and as they talk, I see him lift his hands up, seemingly growing more heated by the second. He exchanges words with Aiden and then abruptly storms out.

Aiden watches him leave, then strides back over and sits across from me. “You okay?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. What did you say to Doug?”

He doesn’t answer me. He studies me. The familiar flicker of embarrassment strikes me in my gut. Did he hear the way Doug was talking about my job? About how much money I make?

It’s one thing to be humiliated by a date I’ll never see again. It’s another thing entirely to have Aiden witness it.

Dee is never going to believe what an asshole that guy was after we both vetted several matches for a date. Sometimes you need a second opinion to see if you’re missing any red flags. Jesus, Dee and I must have either missed a giant one or a million small ones.

“Aiden!” I hear a woman exclaim behind me. A flurry of blonde hair whips by me as a tall, willowy knockout of a woman walks up to Aiden, sits next to him, and pulls him in for a hug. Holy shit, Aiden’s on a date—one that I’m now crashing—with a model, from the looks of it. Kill me, now.

“I better get going. Thanks for checking on me.” I grab my purse and run out of there as fast as I can, not looking back when I hear Aiden call my name. I thought tonight couldn’t get worse, but then I remember I have to see Aiden in class tomorrow. And I’ll have to pretend this clusterfuck of a night never happened.