A Is for Alpha Male (19 page)

THE NEXT MORNING—well...
late
morning—was filled with phone calls.

Hunter called first and, suspecting our hangovers, spoke at an obnoxiously elevated volume. I was fairly certain that that was the only reason he called as he didn’t have anything important to say whatsoever.

The rat bastard.

Not long after Hunter hung up on me, Jason called. We didn’t spend long on the phone, but I did find out that he intended for our date to start that afternoon and that Allison’s date with his father would be a separate entity. That scared me a little for the obvious reasons, but mostly, I feared telling my mother that I had set her up on a utterly blind date. Guessing by her state of being last night, it was going to come as a complete surprise.

Yikes.

I walked back into the room after getting off of the phone, locked my sights on Allison in a prone position on the bed, and made my way straight to her. The more time I gave her to prepare, the better.

“Hey Mamalicious. Have I told you how pretty you look today?” I started cautiously, trying to butter her up.

Unfortunately, Allison was no fool and knew the makings of a honeytrap.

“Crap. What have you gotten me involved in now?” she asked, throwing her arm up and over her eyes for dramatic effect.

Starting with the good news, figuring it would keep my body the safest from acute harm, I said excitedly, “I have a date tonight!”

“Great,” she mumbled from underneath her bent arm. “I’ll stay here and relax off my hangover, order room service, and watch TV.”

Shit.

“Um—” I started to say, my face manifesting sheepish perfectly with a little bit of pink staining my cheeks.

“You didn’t,” Allison cut me off, jumping to the obvious conclusion.

“His name’s Will, he’s Jason’s dad, and he’s fifty-five,” I said on a rush, slowly sneaking my way toward the door.

Her arm flew off of her eyes, her body snapped up like a sling shot, and at the sight of it I gave up any pretense of sneaking and took off at a run.

When I got to the door I yelled over my shoulder, “He’s your date, he’s picking you up in three and a half hours, and we’re going out separately!”

I could hear her shout of frustration just as the door clicked shut behind me. I thought about grabbing the door handle and leaning my weight into it to keep it from opening, but I knew it would be a wasted effort.

Now that I was out of reach, Allison wasn’t coming after me. She would get me back later, and it would be far more painful.

Not sure how I was going to occupy my time until she had a chance to cool down, I had never been more thankful when my phone started to ring Creed’s “My Sacrifice”.

Sliding my finger across the screen to answer, I dove right in, stating, “You have never had better timing, Danny boy.”

“Just told Allison you set her up on a date, huh?” he stated omnisciently.

My jaw practically smacked the floor as I sputtered, “What...how did you...how the hell?”

“I have ways,” he stated darkly, an evil little chuckle sounding in my ear simultaneously.

“If you weren’t so cute, you’d be scary,” I told him the God’s honest truth, pressing my back squarely against the wall and sliding down so that I was sitting with my knees tucked up to my chest.

“Cute?” he questioned.

Guys always had a tough time being called cute. Something to do with ruining their finely honed “street cred”. Of course, that made it even more fun to do.

“I think it’s the dimples,” I explained authoritatively, a smile making the corners of my own mouth turn slightly upward while I tucked an errant piece of hair behind my ear.

“That must be it,” he responded, and then decided to elucidate. “It would explain your calling me cute, when no one else ever has, anyway,” he stated vaguely.

“Why would that explain it?” I asked, my eyebrows raising ever so slightly, an involuntary muscle reaction to my curiosity.

“Because, my little misfit, you’re one of the only people who makes me smile,” he said plainly, his voice just barely above a husky whisper.

Boom!
Skin and skull fragments scattered all over the freaking place.

Mind. Blown.

“Dan-o, you’re probably one of the most fun people I’ve ever met,” I said fiercely, still having a hard time believing that my fun-loving Danny could be anything but that.

“Only with you, babe. You’re the fun one; I’m just willing to go along for the ride.”

“Forever and ever?” my subconscious asked.

Christ on a crutch, I was in trouble.

I was going on a date in Denver, but my heart was having a good time camping out back in Alabama.

Roasting smores, popping open a beer, and settling heavily into its nylon camp chair.

Down in the lobby of Hotel Monaco, I couldn’t stop myself from chewing my fingernails.

I
never
chewed on my fingernails.

But I was just so nervous. Me, the most outgoing, confident, not self-conscious person I knew. Nervous.

Like a barbed, lead weight had been surgically inserted into my stomach, I felt heavy, weighed down, and out of place for one of the first times in my life.

I knew I needed to relax and have a good time, the fact that he looked like Zack Morris was reason enough to go out with him alone, but I still couldn’t convince myself to get my fingers out of my mouth.

So I let myself have it. I was here, ready, and waiting for Jason to pick me up, wearing shorts and a blue blouse-y tank top. I hadn’t backed out, and Will had already picked up Allison.

She gave me the stink eye as long as humanly possible, even holding my eyes well after should have been feasible. Just to glare at me.

Chewing my nails was a good consolation prize.

As for the shorts, Danny had stated pretty clearly that when a man looked at a skirt, he saw the words “easy access” and nothing else. I had pulled out a pair of shorts as soon as I got back into my room.

Even if I was planning on giving the business, I never wanted to look like I was
in
“
the business”
.

And tonight, I was in my nervous, not-quite-ready-to-give-the-business form. Therefore, there was no way I was wearing anything that put the words “easy” and “access” anywhere near each other. In fact, I wanted them to have a bicoastal relationship.

Since a burka wasn’t in fashion, and, being that it was ball-roasting, late July, a parka wasn’t in season, I settled for the shorts and loose fitting tank top.

I looked up and out the door just in time to see Jason pull up in a BMW. I couldn’t tell what series from inside of the hotel, but I also didn’t really care. I preferred American made muscle cars, but when you got down to it the car didn’t really matter. It only mattered if it mattered to him. If he was the type to show off, that could be a major turn off.

He pulled up to parallel park in a spot along the street, but I didn’t want to see the havoc waiting would wreak on my nerves.

I jumped up and practically power-walked out the door, catching his attention just as he was about to throw the car into park.

The shift in his facial features told the story, and the title of his book was “You’ve Thrown Me Off with Your Weird Behavior”.

Personally, I thought that was a little wordy for a title.

He fumbled with the door locks, finally getting it right on the money, the sound of the locks disengaging popping in my ears.

I pulled the handle, swung open the glossy, black door, and slid into the sleek, black leather seats like I did it every day.

Jason, ever the touchy individual, leaned over, put a hand on my bare thigh, and placed a lingering, moderately wet kiss on my cheek.

Um, okay. That made me a smidgen uncomfortable. Especially when his exploratory hand made a journey up my thigh on his way back to his seat instead of just coming straight up, or even copping a feel in a downward direction.

“Hey, Haley. You look really good tonight,” he greeted me as his eyes raked their way down my body and back up again, feeling like an uninvited, physical touch the whole way.

“Hey, Jason. You too,” I said, trying to be complimentary but not shovel myself even deeper into the hole in the process.

Giving me what I had to admit was a great grin, he shifted the car into drive, pulled away from the curb, and then nonchalantly placed his free hand back on my bare thigh.

As we drove, his thumb went from statue still to a slow stroke, going back and forth and then adding a slow circle on every fourth stroke or so.

It seemed like my thigh was a prelude to something else he expected to be stroking later, and that scared me a little more than I already had been.

We drove for almost fifteen minutes, his hand never losing the connection with the fleshy part of my thigh. Rather than warm and familiar, his touch felt foreign and scratchy. He wasn’t touching me any differently, or being any rougher, than Danny, but it didn’t feel the same.

I could feel this date going to hell in a pretty, wicker basket, but then he surprised me.

I looked up and out the window as his car coasted to a stop, only to see that we were at Reiver’s. A KA famous, Denver, Hank-filled location.

Since Jason had no idea about my books, or the convoluted reasoning behind this trip, it was just a simple coincidence. A
lucky
coincidence. But I would take it.

Anything to improve my mood and allow me to relax a little.

I could actually feel the tension in my muscles start to ebb away as I came back into myself. Confidence trickled into my veins thanks to a Reiver’s filled IV.

As Jason finished parking the car, I started giving him a fair chance for the first time that night. I waited when he shifted into park and cut the ignition, knowing that he would probably want to open my door for me.

Gracious as I was, I would give him the opportunity to wait on me.

Ha! What a good joke. I really liked how humble and unselfish it made me sound.

Like normal, my inner dialogue had me smiling, and as a happy, unintentional bi-product, it made me look more inviting, open, and friendly to my date.

Jason gave my thigh a squeeze and murmured a soft, “Be right there,” before folding his way out of his side of the car and circling the hood headed for me.

As he walked, I took in his outfit for the first time through the windshield. He had on nice, dark wash jeans, casually dressy shoes and a matching belt, and a navy blue button up shirt, tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing veined, muscular forearms.

He looked good, his bright eyes and clean-shaven smile lighting up his entire face. Like a modern, slightly older Zack Morris. As I kept looking at him, so obviously happy and carefree, I started to feel bad that I had been so hard on him up until that point. It really wasn’t fair to him that I was placing the weight of my unrequited emotions with Danny and a fair amount of discontentment with the less than honorable intentions of other men on his shoulders.

At that moment, I made a pledge to myself to give Jason a fair chance. Enjoy his company, enjoy the meal in a fictionally familiar location, and joke and have a good time like my true self.

It would either go well of its own accord or not.

Jason reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and then reached for my hand to help me up and out of the car.

I murmured my thanks and smiled at him with sincerity for the first time that night. I wasn’t old fashioned in the least, being pro-premarital sex and cohabitation, but I still loved a gentleman. I wanted someone to open doors and lend a helping hand, not because it was expected but because they wanted to. Because they liked me
that
much.

As I cleared the door of the car, he gave it a gentle shove and moved to lace our fingers together as I heard it slam shut behind me.

The slight wave of his blond hair, flopped forward ever so slightly, as he tilted his head down so that his blue eyes could meet mine.

“Ready?” he asked as he started for the front door of the restaurant.

I nodded and fell in step beside him, taking two steps to his every one even in heels. I was used to working my legs at double the speed though. It was a frequent problem for us vertically challenged people.

In no time at all we ate up the distance, coming to the hostess station in the front where we were greeted by a blond hostess who knew Jason by name.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it became pretty obvious what side of the fence I should be on when the hostess damn near licked her lips at him.

He didn’t react though, so I couldn’t convince myself to get worked up about it. And surprisingly, I hadn’t felt a flare of jealousy at all anyway.

Strange. Usually I got jealous even when I didn’t care that much.

Placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked to our table, Jason fell in step slightly behind me, and I was behind our hostess.

I watched as she swung her hips with almost ludicrous deliberation, and then barely managed to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble up because of it.