But when he was telling me what he wanted to do to me, I froze. I couldn't help but think about what would happen if I went through with it. I won't be another notch on Gaige's bedpost. I can't. Not with how I felt about him before.
It's been almost two weeks since I've even seen him, which is pretty much unimaginable, given the fact that we're living in the same house. At least I think we are. The tent is off the guesthouse, so I suppose he could have already moved back in. He hasn't even shown up at the office, not that I expected him to.
"Hey, Earth to Delaney," Daniel says. "I said, are you going to go out with him?"
"Who?" I ask.
"Who?" he repeats. "Who is that hot guy who was just talking to us, the one I was basically carrying the conversation with, by the way. What's the point of even going to happy hour to pick up guys if you're not going to make an effort? He left you his card."
"Sorry," I say. "I'm just distracted."
"No shit. Distracted by who, is the question?"
"No one," I lie. "Maybe the card was for you."
"No, that boy – Bennet –" he says, picking up the card and reading the name. "Is straight as an arrow. Which is just my luck, too. But you're in greater need than I am. You're going to grow cobwebs down there if you don't dust that thing off and get some."
"Shut up," I protest. "There are no cobwebs growing on my vag, thank you very much."
"When's the last time you got laid?"
"None of your business!"
"Six months ago," Daniel says. "Derek. Did you even have any rebound sex after you broke up with him?" He looks at me accusingly.
I glance at the card from the guy who left it. I can't even remember what he looked like, and it's only been a few minutes since he left. Daniel is texting on my phone, and he sets it down, looking at me triumphantly when he's finished. "What?" I ask.
"Done. Tomorrow, six p.m. Drinks here. With Bennet."
"What?" I squeak. "You can't do that."
"Done," he says. "And you're too polite to cancel. You need to get out."
"I'm leaving for Japan in a few weeks," I say. "I don't need to date anyone."
"No," he says, sipping his cocktail. "You need to get laid."
"You're one to talk," I say. "How long has it been for you?"
"Last night."
"What? No way."
"Honey, I understand the importance of the one night stand," he says. "Something you apparently don't."
I open my mouth, the incident with Gaige in the pool on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him. Daniel always knows what to do with these kinds of things.
Shit, I know what Daniel would tell me to do. He'd tell me to ride Gaige like a cowgirl and then make sure to spill all the details later.
Bennet, my date, is talking to me over cocktails. He's cute. Okay, he's totally hot. With wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine. Except instead of "dude" coming out of his mouth, it's "y'all." The thick Texas twang doesn't make him any less attractive, either. Except when he calls me "darlin'," and it makes me think of Gaige.
And Bennet is nothing like Gaige. He seems nice. He hangs on my every word, and laughs, and brushes his hand casually on my arm.
When he touches me, I wait for something to strike – fireworks, electricity, some kind of spark – the way it does when Gaige brushes his fingers along my skin, but it doesn't. But I tell myself that my ex-boyfriend Derek was the same way – a slow burn, no immediate spark -- but it turned into something over time. Sort of. We never really had a lot of passion, even after a year together. And it didn't exactly end well. Derek wound up cheating on me with my ex-roommate, so that relationship isn't the best example, I guess.
But Bennet is sweet. He seems kind. Like a Labrador.
And my mind is drifting the entire time he's talking. What's he saying, again? He's asking me a question, and it takes me a minute to figure it out. He's asking about my work. Shit, I'm supposed to be talking. "I'm sorry, I missed that," I say.
"I was asking about your trip," he says. "You mentioned Japan."
"Oh, yeah, next week," I say. "I'll be there for a few weeks. I'm basically being sent to manage my stepbrother, Gaige. He's a motorcycle racer – you know those sport bikes? That's what he does."
"Sounds dangerous," Bennet says.
"Japan?" I ask. "No, it's the opposite, actually. It's really quite safe."
Bennet laughs. "I meant the bike racing."
"Oh, yeah." I roll my eyes. "Especially when you like to pull dumb stunts the way Gaige does." My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my purse. "Excuse me for a second."
Where are you?
I recognize Gaige's number immediately but ignore it, setting the phone down on the table. He's been avoiding me, yet picks now as the appropriate time to text? Yeah, right.