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Midnight Valentine(23)

By:J.T. Geissinger


He’s getting the VIP treatment because he’s handsome. That rugged, cowboy type of handsome where you just know he’s really good at chopping wood and taming wild stallions and shooting poor game birds out of the sky and stuff like that. He’s got dark blond hair, dimples you could fall into, and a smile as easy as a Sunday morning.

And he’s not wearing a wedding ring, a fact that Suzanne’s sharp eyes didn’t miss.

He says, “I was in the area this afternoon to meet a client, thought I’d catch a bite before I went back to Portland.” He notices Suzanne and her cleavage. His smile widens. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all!” simpers Suzanne with a little wiggle of her shoulders that makes her boobs shake and Craig’s eyes widen.

I pull my lips between my teeth so I don’t smile. “Have you two met?”

At the same time, Craig and Suzanne say, “No.”

“Suzanne, this is Craig Kennedy from Capstone Construction. Craig, this is Suzanne Martin. She’s in real estate.”

No sooner have the words left my lips than Suzanne is scooting over in her side of the booth. “Nice to meet you, Craig!” she says brightly, all smiles and sweetness. “Are you having dinner alone?”

“Yep.”

Don’t say it, Suzanne.

“Why don’t you join us?”

Shit.

Craig looks at me. Of course I’m not going to be Ultra Super Mega Bitch and send him away, so I smile and pretend to be welcoming. “Yes, please join us.”

Craig slides into the booth beside Suzanne, and the two of them sit there grinning at each other while I wonder at what age it becomes socially acceptable to say whatever you’re really thinking and do whatever you want, regardless of what’s polite. Seventy? Eighty?

God, I can’t wait.

The next two hours are hell. Between Craig’s and Suzanne’s blistering hormones and my dinner—which was supposed to be calamari but instead tastes suspiciously like fried rubber bands—I start to feel sick.

And sweet Jesus, can Craig talk. Once he sits down, he doesn’t take a breath. On and on he goes, about his work, his company, his plans for expansion, yada yada yada. It’s exhausting. Not once does he ask Suzanne or me a question. It’s like we were only born to sit and listen to him blather on while we smile supportively and strain our spines as we show off our boobs.

I don’t even have the pleasure of getting plastered, because I never drink unless I’m at home. And I can tell by Suzanne’s third glass of wine that I’m going to be the one driving there.

At quarter past eight, my patience has been worn to a nub by Craig’s ceaseless drone. I catch the waitress’s eye and motion for the check. When it comes, Craig takes it from her hand, waving dismissively when I protest.

“It’s my pleasure.” He smiles at Suzanne, who smiles dreamily back at him.

I doubt it would be his pleasure if he knew I’m seriously considering not hiring him for my ridiculously expensive renovation, but maybe Suzanne’s ample assets will soften the blow.

“I can’t believe we’ve never met before,” she complains prettily, toying with the sleeve of his shirt. “I give my clients referrals for your company all the time, but I’ve only met your foreman.”

“Well, now you’ve met me.” Craig’s smile looks dangerous. “I hope it wasn’t a disappointment.”

Suzanne giggles like a schoolgirl, and it’s all I can do not to throw my napkin in her face. “This was wonderful,” I say, “and it was so nice to see you, Craig.” I slide toward the edge of the booth, hoping they’ll take the hint. When they don’t, I add pointedly, “But I’m feeling a bit tired, so…”

Pulling himself out of the spell of Suzanne’s boobs, Craig remembers his manners and stands. “Of course. I should let you ladies go. Megan, it was a pleasure to see you again. I’ll be sending that paperwork over Monday.”

He shakes my hand. I try not to feel like we’re making a deal. He turns to Suzanne, still sitting in the booth, looking forlorn that he’s leaving. “Suzanne, I honestly can’t remember the last time I had so much fun talking to someone.”

She says, “You need to get my number so you can have fun again soon.”

Damn. This girl is a go-getter, that’s for sure.

But, shockingly, Craig doesn’t take the bait. He says lightly, “Yeah, if I need a real estate agent I’ll definitely give you a call. I can get your number from Megan.”

Suzanne’s smile freezes in place.

Craig says, “Ladies,” makes a motion like he’s tipping his hat, then turns around and walks away.