And completely ignores me.
It pisses me the fuck off.
In the middle of all the hoopla, I slide out of the booth and leave. Will doesn’t even look my way.
I wonder how long it’ll take him to discover that I’m gone?
Ten minutes, and about two-cab-ride-miles away, my phone rings.
“Where the hell are you?” he growls.
“Heading home,” I respond calmly.
“What the hell?”
“Look, Will, I’m not interested in the arrogant, cocky football hero. That’s not who I agreed to go out with.” I close my eyes and try to calm my pulse. Why does he make me so fucking nervous?
“Where are you?” he repeats, clearly pissed.
“In a cab. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“Meg, I can’t change my job…”
“I’m not asking you to,” I interrupt him. “But you had to know that you’d get a helluva lot of attention in a sports bar, Will. Showing off how famous you are is not the way to impress me. I’m not a woman who thinks that scoring a celebrity is sexy. I think you’re sexy, without the football jersey.” Fuck, why did I say that? “So, you go ahead and enjoy your photo op, but I have better things to do with my time than be ignored. Have a good night.”
This date so did not count toward the three. And there probably won’t be any more dates, either. I just don’t need to date an arrogant ass.
Damn it.
Chapter Five
I’m sorry.
I stare down at the note that accompanied the dozens of chocolate cupcakes that were delivered to the hospital just a few minutes ago.
It’s obvious who they’re from.
He sent beautiful, intricately decorated, chocolate cupcakes for all of us, not just me. There’s enough here for all of the patients, the staff… hell, even the kids’ parents.
“What did he do?” Jill asks from behind me and I whirl around.
“Stop reading over my shoulder!”
She chuckles and picks up a cupcake, sniffs it, and takes a big bite. “What did he do?” she repeats.
“He pissed me off.”
“When?”
“Last night.” I pick up a cupcake and take a big bite. Mmm… so good.
“Wanna put these in the lounge?” Jill asks as she licks her fingertips.
“Yeah. People can graze on them all day, although I don’t think they’ll last that long.” I smirk and wheel the cart full of the chocolate goodness down the hall.
“You know, he could have just sent you a cupcake,” Jill murmurs beside me, examining her fingernails.
“I know.” Damn him for being so sweet.
“Mmm hmm.”
“Stop. I get it. He’s nice, but he fucked up yesterday, so it’s okay for me to be frustrated with him, okay?”
“Okay.” Jill raises her hands in an “I surrender” motion and snags another treat. “These are delish.”
“Yeah, I guess he listened the other day when the kids told him I like chocolate.”
“I guess he did,” she responds with a smile.
“You have chocolate in your teeth,” I mutter and pick up another cupcake for myself.
I arrange the cupcakes on a long table in the lounge and then pull out my phone.
Delicious. I hit send and bite my lip. Maybe I should have said more, but he needs to earn it.
Yes, you are. He responds immediately, and I laugh. Suddenly my phone is ringing, Football Star displayed on the caller ID.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey,” he responds softly. “I wanted to hear your voice, and this is faster than texting. We’re about to get on the plane to go to San Francisco for Sunday’s game.”
“Oh, it’s an away game this week?” I ask, disappointment in my voice. He’ll be out of town all weekend.
That’s okay, I work all weekend.
“Yeah, we’ll be back Sunday night. Look, Meg, I’m sorry for last night. I should have known that it would get crazy, but I really did just want to take you out for a good burger.”
“Yeah, you should have known,” I agree softly.
“Have I completely fucked up, or are you going to let me make it up to you?”
I bite my lip and clench my eyes shut. Damn it, what is it about this guy that I just can’t seem to tell him no?
“Next time, I pick the spot,” I reply and I hear him sigh in relief.
“Deal. So, where shall I take you for date number two?”
“Uh, let’s worry about date number one first.”
“We already went on date number one,” he growls, making me grin.
“No, we didn’t. You didn’t take me home and you pissed me off. It doesn’t count.”
“Fuck,” he mutters and I can imagine him running his hand through his shaggy hair in frustration. “You’re killing me, honey.”
“How is that?” I ask and peel the paper off another chocolate cupcake. Jesus, I’m going to gain ten pounds today.
“Hold on,” he takes the phone away from his mouth and calls out to someone, “Hey! I’ll be right back.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Finding a private spot,” he mutters and I hear him walking. A door opens, then closes. “As I was saying, you’re killing me because I want to taste you, everywhere.”
I stop chewing the now-cardboard chocolate in my mouth and swallow hard.