Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

“Is that a hint of judgment? No, not a motorcycle. Picture a bicycle with helmet and a really sexy, bright safety vest for visibility.”

“Sexy, huh? Do you wear those little bike shorts? The ones with the suspenders, or the padded butt and crotch?”

I chuckled. “Wow, and here I thought you were shy. That is a no-holds-barred question, asking a man if he pads his crotch.” I regretted taking another bite of my chicken as she continued, undaunted.

“Well, do you? I’ve seen some of the cycling shorts online and they are frightening. A few looked like an alien mouth. It’s sci-fi worthy.” She made grabby mouth motions with her hands, and it was all I could do not to shudder.

“No. Not my thing. I try to keep my shorts loose. I’m not that serious of a biker.”

She nodded solemnly. “While I can appreciate the desire for extra padding, I had serious nightmares after online shopping for a cyclist friend.”

I was amused by her directness. Tamra had started out stiff, but the more she relaxed, the more I realized that my point-blank nature had met its match in her. Our conversation skipped from topic to topic while we finished the last of our dinner. “Would you like anything else? If not, I thought we could take our wine out onto the patio while I ask you some more questions about your job?”

She grabbed her plate and stood. “That sounds great. Dinner was delicious by the way, thank you.”

I refilled our glasses, then gestured toward the patio door. She opened it and took a deep breath of the salty Tacoma air. It wasn’t overpowering, but the scent of saltwater carried on the wind. My apartment didn’t have a water view, but it did look down over the courtyard below. I had two slightly decrepit chairs that took up most of the floor space, and I tried not to wince as Tamra sat down in one and it squeaked. I’d had Jimmy check out the apartment, but not the patio. I’m sure he’d tell me these didn’t pass the guest test, but Tamra didn’t comment.

Between the dinner, wine, and our teasing, Tamra had finally relaxed. She settled further in her creaky chair as I quizzed her about nursing. It was clear she was comfortable in her expertise. That confidence was sexy. Her tone was authoritative, and it sent me down a rabbit hole as I tried to envision her in a dominant role in the bedroom. My plotting was taking a more erotic turn than I’d anticipated. She’d be fiery with an alpha. Her curls brushed her cheek and neck, highlighting their curves, and it was easy to picture those same curls, damp with sweat, her breath labored after riding me to oblivion. Ha, me. My alpha abilities may be in question, but my growing desire for Tamra was not. I’d gone from picturing her with a nameless hero, to keeping her all for myself.

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable in the chair of death and hide the evidence of my erection. If this continued, I was going to have to make it a rule always to have a table between me and Tamra to hide the evidence of any impure thoughts.

As Tamra finished telling me about how nursing rounds worked, I noticed that her glass was empty. I offered her a refill, and she stretched and asked to use the restroom. It was getting colder out, so I shut the patio door and settled onto the couch while I waited for her to return.

She looked nervous again when she sat down. Crap. Maybe she’d misinterpreted my move inside as me trying to put the moves on her? I hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. “Is this okay?” I asked, gesturing to the couch.

She shook herself. “Oh. Yeah. I was just thinking about asking for a favor,” she mumbled.

My shoulders relaxed. “Lay it on me. I probably owe you ten by now.”

“It’s a big one,” she said nervously.

“That’s what she said!” I crowed. I could only subdue the voice of my inner twelve-year-old so long, especially when she seemed to be on my wave-length. But it had the desired result of relaxing Tamra once again.

She grinned at me. “You goof. So. The big favor I wanted to ask you is about my brother. He’s getting married in a couple of weeks.”

She paused and shifted on the couch cushion.

“Okay ...” I prompted. Did she want help writing her toast? On one hand, it meant I hadn’t scared her away. Yet. On the other, I’d much rather she was proposing something more personal.

She took a deep breath. “Will you come with me to the wedding? Be my date?” The last bit came out in a single rush of breath.

I’m not sure what I expected. It was a wish come true and nightmare rolled in one. I hadn’t expected an invitation to a family gathering, let alone a wedding. Those were usually either fraught with subtext thanks to family drama or the involvement of an ex. I wasn’t sure which category Tamra’s invitation might fall into. Maybe both? Either way I owed Tamra, and accepting would give me an excuse to spend more time with her. If I didn’t screw it up. No pressure.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Um. Yeah. I can probably do that. When is it?”

A grin split her face, making her eyes sparkle. “It’s next month. I’d appreciate it. I know it’s no one’s idea of a good time. You don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend or anything, but it would be nice to have a date. As friends.”

Friends. I held back my grimace. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. It wasn’t pretending to be her boyfriend I was concerned about. Maybe I was the only one who saw tonight’s dinner as a date. I’d spent all evening trying to ignore my attraction to her. If I were her wedding date, I wouldn’t