Rian stares at his retreating form with a cross between incredulity and possibly relief, although it’s hard to tell.
“I think it would be in your best interest not to answer should he have the balls to call you again. Any man who can’t handle Mexican food should be on a no-date list,” Amalie says.
“Yeah.” Rian expels a breath and looks at her empty table. “Well, uh, I guess I should be on my way, then.”
“Or you could join us?” Amalie suggests.
She’s almost as persistent as I am.
Rian raises her hands like she’s been subjected to electroshock treatment. “Oh no! No, thank you. I should go. I’ve embarrassed myself more than enough for one day.” She takes a step back. “It was nice meeting you, Amalie. I apologize for…” She gestures to me as she continues to back away. “Anyway…” She grabs for her purse. “Bye!”
I watch the sway of her ass as she rushes for the door. She avoids touching the handle, using her hip to push it open.
Amalie claps her hands. “Well, that was fun!”
“I’m glad you’re entertained.”
“I seriously think you need to ask her out.”
“She’s already said no.” Several times. I nab one of the mini octopi from her plate and pop it in my mouth.
“So ask again.”
“Annoy her into dating me, then?”
Amalie sets down her fork, her expression turning serious. “Whatever works. Come on, Pierce. I haven’t met a girlfriend since you and Stacey ended things, and this one seems like fun.”
“Stacey was the one who ended things when she decided to screw someone else behind my back.”
“She’s a ladder-climbing bitch and you’re better off without her. But that was a long time ago, Pierce. You need to put yourself back out there. Not every woman is out for your bank account or your ability to slingshot their career.”
“I know that, Amie. I’m not sure if you noticed, but she thinks I’m an asshole. And just because you haven’t met a girlfriend doesn’t mean I haven’t dated. Besides, it’s not like I’d want to bring anyone to a family dinner.”
“Mom and Dad have been a lot better over the past couple of years.”
She’s right. They have. I love my parents, but their relationship is tumultuous at the best of times. At the worst it’s downright embarrassing. “I never know if they’re going to start some kind of bickering match at a family get-together. I don’t want to be subjected to that kind of drama, let alone bringing anyone else into it.”
She sighs. “Fine. I’ll give you that, but you haven’t introduced anyone to me. There hasn’t even been a mention of a girlfriend in forever.”
“I don’t want to be tied down.”
“You don’t have to be into BDSM to be in a relationship.” Her grin drops when I don’t laugh. “Seriously, Pierce. You’re such a good guy. It’d be a shame not to share that with someone else because you got burned once, don’t you think? I mean, look what happened to me, and I’m willing to get on the horse and ride again.”
“Such a bad analogy.”
“You know what I mean.”
I appreciate her concern, but I don’t want to get into this with her. Not right now, if ever. I’d met Stacey in my last year of law school. She was smart, fun, great in bed, gorgeous. I’d proposed after graduation. She’d said yes.
I’d made partner fairly quickly after that. But when I started to reconsider my passion for law, Stacey had been quick to shoot down my suggestion that I walk away from this career to try another. And then my mother got sick. Her battle with cancer combined with my uncertainty as to the future of my career was enough to push Stacey into someone else’s arms. Someone who could propel her career forward faster than me. I haven’t been in a serious relationship since.
People could only let you down if you allowed them to. So I didn’t.
CHAPTER 6
BEACH HOUSE SIXTY-NINE
RIAN
“I told you that dress was perfect!” Marley thinks this whole thing is hilarious. She’s far more interested in Pierce being at the same restaurant than the rather abrupt end to my date. I still haven’t told her about him asking me out. Relentlessly.
“My boobs were like a homing beacon.” I dig my spoon into the half-pint of toasted coconut ice cream. I stopped at the convenience store down the street from our duplex on the way home and stocked up on snack foods since I missed out on dinner.
“That’s crazy that he was at the same restaurant as you! What are the chances?” She bites into a giant carrot with an obnoxious crunch.
“Slim to none.”
“I can’t believe you called him out. Well, okay, I can totally believe it, because it’s definitely something you’d do, but damn, I would’ve paid good money to see that go down.”
I sink into my chair and shovel more ice cream into my mouth. Now that I’m home and I’ve had time to reflect on my actions, I’m highly embarrassed by them. This is why I’m the paper-and-numbers girl and Marley is the one who deals with the public, because I do humiliating things. Granted, he was staring at my chest, and has been pestering me for a date, which would’ve been very rude if he had a girlfriend.
His sister seems nice, though.
One of our phones buzzes on the coffee table. Marley is quicker than me and nabs them both, rolling her eye when the screen on mine lights up.
“For the love of all that is good and holy, do not message him back.” She tosses it to me.
Terry has left four new ones. He’s been pretty desperate to reschedule the date. He’s thrown out three options for the week after he comes back from his conference.
I refuse to acknowledge that I’m disappointed it’s not Pierce. I don’t bother to check the messages. Pierce’s sister is right, any guy who can’t handle Mexican food should be on a no-date list.
“Maybe you’ll meet some hottie on the beach this weekend.” Marley flips through channels, looking for decent brain candy. At my quizzical expression, she elaborates. “Angelica and Lauren rented a beach house for the weekend, remember?”
“Oh, right, it totally slipped my mind, to be honest.” Angelica, better known as Gel, and Lauren used to live down the street from us. They’ve been roommates forever and moved to New York City a few years ago, so we don’t get to see them very often anymore. They’re obviously doing well if they can afford to rent a Hamptons beach house for a weekend getaway.
“It’s on the calendar in the kitchen. Have you packed a bag yet?”
“What?” I think I’m slipping into an ice cream coma.
“They invited us to stay the weekend, or did you forget about that too?”
“Why would we stay with them when we live near the beach?”
“We don’t live that close, and because it’s fun and convenient. It’s supposed to be ridiculously warm this weekend, bikini weather even. If we stay with them, we can get our drink on and have some fun with friends we rarely get to see.”
“But we have the open house on Saturday afternoon, and then the bungalow on Sunday,” I remind her. We’re holding back on listing the second house until Sunday morning on the request of the sellers. They want the other property on the beach to sell first, hoping to entice buyers their way. Nothing stays on the market long in the Hamptons, so we anticipate it will sell during the open house. On the up side, we’ll have a gauge with which to price the bungalow. The better the price point, the better our commission and the happier the sellers are.