But for whatever reason, Sarah Williams wasn't falling all over me yet, which meant I had to try harder and change up my game.
I called Tony when I couldn't get my mind to stop whirling. I needed some advice from my right-hand man. He'd know what to do. He could probably tell me the shit I'd done wrong. He'd done it for me a couple of times in the past, told me where I wholly screwed up. Then I used his advice to wow them on the second date, and they were hooked. I could leave them hanging then, keep them in my pot, and tug on their strings whenever I needed them.
And this was one of those moments where I needed Tony's wisdom.
"So, got yourself some girl problems," he said, grinning.
"I think she's one of those different women. So I need some tactics from you."
"Thanks, I think," he said.
"So, what do I do for this second date?"
"You're taking her out on a second date?" he asked.
"Dude. I need her for my pool. I don't have a woman like her in it yet. Tips, man. Come on."
I could tell he was only half paying attention to me. This blonde had sat down beside him at the bar, and already he was flirting with her. He was complimenting her on her eyes, telling her they were dark and stormy like the nighttime sky. He was slowly curling one of her tendrils around his finger, pulling lightly at her hair as she sighed. This was how he tested whether a woman was down for a one-night stand. Tony always liked it a bit rough, but he never wanted to get tangled up with a girl who didn't. If they enjoyed his more aggressive tactics, he sank his teeth in.
Like he was doing right now.
"Hey there, handsome."
I looked over and saw a fiery redhead sit down next to her. Her hair was cut all the way up to her ears, but she had curves for days. Not really my type with all her physical features, but she was still a beautiful woman.
But for some reason, I couldn't get my mind off Sarah.
"Care for a drink?" I asked.
"Actually," she said as she grabbed onto my tie. "I was thinking maybe a round of dessert somewhere."
Forward and wanton. Exactly my type for these kinds of nights. I could take her into the bathroom, press her against the wall really quick, slide my dick in deep, and then get a little bit of action. She might get hers. She might not. The point was I had a fabulous woman whose pussy was probably already dripping down her leg, and I had this other fucking woman on my mind.
Sarah.
The damn woman I couldn't nail down.
"How about I buy you a drink, and you ready that beautiful body for someone else?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes and slid off the stool, stomping away like a child who had her favorite toy ripped from her. I turned back around to continue talking with Tony, but I saw him exiting with the blonde underneath his arm.
At least someone's game was on point tonight.
I finished my drink and settled the tab before I went on home. I cruised through the streets with my convertible top up. I didn't feel like being gawked at right now. My mind was occupied with thoughts of my date with Sarah, wondering what in the world I could've possibly done wrong. It was perfect. The car. The compliment when I picked her up. I opened her door, rented out that little restaurant with the view. Pumped her full of ridiculously expensive wine. Showed her my home. Made her come twice.
What was wrong with that shit?
I got home and went inside and instantly took my cell phone out of my pocket. I was over this. I needed to call her. If Tony wasn't going to help me with this shit, then I was going to help myself with it by breaking the one rule I kept close to my chest.
The phone rang me all the way to voice mail, which wasn't a surprise, but all I did was hang up. I called right back, hoping to catch her attention or interrupt whatever plans she had. Maybe she was already on another date. Maybe she was already hooking up with another guy. She didn't strike me as that kind of woman, but if she had that kind of play, I had to admire her for it.
Most women didn't have the confidence to play that game.
Then finally, on the last ring, she answered.
"Yes?"
"Ah, so you have been thinking about me," I said, grinning.
"Do you ever stop?" she asked.
"Not even when you beg for it," I said.
I heard her scoff, and it caused me to grin. She was adorable when I was pissing her off. I could see that little scowl on her face now that crinkled her nose and reddened her cheeks.
"Why would I be thinking about you?" she asked.
"Because I rocked your world a couple of days ago."
"Oh, really? And how do you figure?"
"The wine. The drive. The talk. The eroticism."
She giggled, and I knew I had her. If I knew all I had to do was pursue her a bit longer to get her hooked, I would've fucking done this shit yesterday.
Some women enjoyed being chased before they were devoured by their predator.
"It was all right, I guess," she said.
"All right?" I asked. "Are you really sticking with that story?"
"It's funny to me that you think it's a story."
"Fine. Fine. If it was just all right, then tell me what could I have done that would've made it better."
"And ruin your game? No, thank you," she said.
"Just humor me."
"I already did."
"And how did you humor me?"
"By pity fucking you."
I was in shock. I threw my head back and laughed, thinking she was making a joke. But I didn't hear her laughing, and I started to get a bit … I don't know. I wasn't familiar with what I was experiencing honestly.
"How it could've been better? For starters, you could've actually indulged about yourself a bit."
"Funny, coming from you," I said.
"I told you my father was dealing drugs, and my mother chose him over me. That's pretty personal."
"Anything else?" I asked.
"The only reason you pumped me full of wine was to get me to screw you. You didn't have to do that. I went into the date knowing I needed to relieve some stress. The wine was a waste on your part. Though I could've used a shoulder massage."
I was absolutely beside myself. Was this woman fucking serious?
"And lastly, you never called."
"You didn't say a word when you left," I said.
"Does that bother you?"
Honestly, it did. I just didn't fucking know why.
"Better luck next time, precious."
She hung up the phone, and I was beside myself. What the hell had just happened? This woman, whose world I know I did rock because of the amount of shaking she did in my bed, had just … Mason Bakered me.
I fucking got Mason Bakered.
Chapter 9
Sarah
I laughed every time I thought about that conversation. Giving men like that a dose of their own medicine is exactly what they needed sometimes. But it was odd. Even after the conversation we had, he kept calling. Playboys didn't do that type of shit. It was all over the news. The women he interchanged. The different flavor every week articles that broke down the new woman on his arm. What she wore. What she did for a living. Where they probably met. How long they would last.
I knew he wasn't hunting for another woman because he was spending his free time blowing up my damn cell phone.
He was supposed to be this big, bad playboy, but all he portrayed himself to be was this desperate, insecure man.
He kept calling, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. I'd ignore him, and he'd leave a voice message. I'd turn off my phone, and he was texting me. And every single time he kept asking me for the same thing.
He wanted to take me out on another date.
I didn't want to go out on another date with him. I didn't want to waste my time trying to give him a dose of his own medicine again. Men like Mason Baker needed to be brought down a peg, that much was for sure, but I'd settle for him no longer blowing up my phone.
So, I finally picked it up and listened.
"Just let me take you out one more time. And this time, you can plan the date."
"Excuse me? You're asking me on a date, and you want me to coordinate it?" I asked.
"Not execute it. Paint me the perfect date, and I'll make it happen."
"Are you trying to redeem yourself or something?" I asked.
"Think of it as a second first impression."
Honestly? It sounded kind of nice. After all the jerks I'd met and the bullshit I went through in high school, it would be nice to actually get the date I wanted. And it was one date, right? Mason Baker surely didn't do the iconic third date.
Hell, we did on the first date what usually waits until the third date.
"Okay," I said. "A second date, it is."
"So, talk to me. About your perfect first date."
"No, no, no, no. I'm agreeing to this under one solid principle," I said.
"Name it, beautiful."