The ladies hadn’t really shared too much with me about this blind date. My eyes bounce around the restaurant when I enter, wondering who my date might be. Could it be someone I’ve met already?
When I spot Blake at the bar, my stomach drops. No, they wouldn’t. I hate the flutter my heart gives seeing him even with how much of a jerk he’s been to me. That flutter stops as I watch a pretty redhead slip into the chair next to him. He turns his head, giving her a smile, but he must catch sight of me out of the corner of his eye because he jerks his head my way.
“Reese,” someone calls, thankfully stealing my attention away from Blake.
“Dr. Cutler.” I smile when I see Henry's vet standing in front of the host stand.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Simon?”
“It feels wrong. How many years does someone have to work to be called a doctor? I’d use the hell out of it if I were you,” I tease, making him laugh.
“Well, I think if we’re going to have a date, Simon might be more appropriate.”
“Oh.” I stand there shocked for a moment. “You’re my blind date?”
“They didn’t tell you it was me?”
“No.” I shake my head. As I stare up at Simon’s handsome face, I feel nothing. What is wrong with me? He’s smart, funny, and good-looking. The thought of going out with him never occurred to me, but I knew he was single. I think he mentioned it before. I’d guess him to be in his thirties.
“Do you still want to have dinner?”
“Of course.” I keep a smile on my face, not wanting to be rude. Do it, Reese, go out with the good guy for once. We can talk about kittens and pasta. That should sound amazing, but for some stupid reason it doesn’t.
“Good.” He gives me a warm smile before the hostess guides us to a table. The whole way there I swear I can feel Blake’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look his way.
I’ve lived in this town for months and have never seen him before. Now he’s freaking everywhere I am. What are the odds?
CHAPTER 9
BLAKE
I ’m understanding now why the Sew Be It ladies said I might want to make sure I was at Gino's Italian Cuisine tonight.
Simon is a good guy. He treats his momma like she is made of glass, and I haven’t heard one complaint from the Justice ladies about his attitude or professionalism.
“Did you swallow a lemon?” Nina asks.
I rub a thumb across my mouth. “No, why?”
“You look like you swallowed something terrible. Anyway, I brought the proposal from the contractor in Houston for the waterfront renovation. It looks really promising, but the interior designs are super dated. I asked who he was working with for that, and he said it wasn't important, which I don't agree with.”
She opens the glossy proposal and spreads out the info spec sheets for me. As usual, she’s spot on. The exterior of the new waterfront high-rises is modern and forward-thinking, but the interior looks like it was ripped from the eighties with beige walls and carpet. “Is that carpet?”
“I know, right?” She goes on to point out all the other things that are wrong from the finishes to the rendered artwork, and any other time, I’d be listening intently, but Simon has his hand on Reese’s back, and a black feeling surges inside of me at the sight.
I drain my beer and stand. “Be right back, Nina.”
I can’t take my eyes off Reese, and part of the anger building inside me is due to that too. Why am I falling head over ass for a woman who is already spoken for? Who’s out dating half the county? Who is so fucking beautiful that my mouth goes dry whenever she’s near?
“Simon,” I say curtly when I arrive at their table.
The good doc tips his head and gives me a quizzical look. “Nice to see you, Blake. Heard you’re doing a big development up in Houston on the water. Let me know if you need investors.”
“Will do.” I keep my eyes pinned on Reese, who is refusing to meet mine.
“Do you know Reese here? She’s somewhat new in town,” Simon tries to introduce us.
“I know her. This your first date?” The Sew Be It ladies were serious about pairing Reese off, and for what reason? Women can be single these days. There’s a whole industry dedicated to single people. Like you can buy cartons of four eggs instead of twelve and half sticks of butter and smaller bottles of wine. There are restaurants that have individual booths for a single person. It’s a whole new world that doesn’t involve Doc Simon or the asshole Justin Marco.