“Well?” she presses.
“Are you always this…” I trail off, thinking better of saying what I was thinking. Bitchy.
“What?”
“It’s just that this smells remarkably like a job interview. Which seems a bit like overkill for just one night.”
“One night? Oh, no. I’m looking for something for at least three weeks. After that, we can decide if a long term commitment would make sense.”
“Wait. What?”
“I was with Larry for over five years,” she says, which explains why she’s been so awkward tonight. I’m guessing this is her first time to even use a dating app.
“That’s quite a while,” I say.
“It is. And honestly, I prefer the continuity that goes with a long-term arrangement. With someone I can trust, of course. That’s what I’ll be evaluating with you, of course. Assuming you check out and can prove yourself. Which, frankly, I’m starting to doubt.”
I wince, suddenly picturing a panel of Olympic judges at the foot of my bed as I attempt a double rolling dismount with a flip.
I shake my head, dismissing the thought.
“Right. Okay. Let’s back up.” I slam back the rest of my bourbon. “Now it’s my turn to call you out for being unprepared. Because my profile is crystal clear. No long term commitments.” I flash that charming smile again. “Forget marriage. I’m all about the one-night stand.”
“That’s absurd. You’re seriously considering doing this for just one night? And you think that would be okay with me? That I want to do this repeatedly?” She gestures at the table, as if having a man buy you a drink is the most hideous torture imaginable. “Are you insane?”
“My shrink doesn’t think so.”
She stands, then hooks her purse over her shoulder. “I wish your policy had been made clear. This has been a complete waste of time in a week when I don’t have any time to waste.”
“Jez—” I stand and reach for her, but she steps back. I have no idea why I want her to stay, but I do.
She, however, isn’t giving me the chance to convince her.
“Thank you for the drink.” She draws a breath, and I can see her effort to settle herself. “I really am sorry for the misunderstanding. Despite everything, I think it would have been… interesting working with you.”
And then she turns.
And then she’s gone.
What the hell just happened?
“Another?” the waiter asks, as I sink back into my chair.
“Yeah. A double this time. I think I need it.”
I sit there for a minute, a little shell-shocked, and I’m not sure why. I damn sure shouldn’t be disappointed she walked, because that one would have been trouble for sure. The last thing I need is a woman who wants to cling.
But still, I’ve sat in a bar and had a drink by myself on several occasions. But never before has the empty seat across from me seemed quite so empty.
I sigh, then lift the drink the waiter slides in front of me. I savor the bite of the whiskey, wondering if it’s the alcohol that’s messing with my head. Making me think that maybe two dates wouldn’t be the end of the world. Hell, maybe even three.
Because the truth is, even though I never quite figured her out, I haven’t been that entertained by a woman in a long time.
My phone chirps, signaling an incoming message from 2Nite.
I snatch it from my jacket pocket, certain it’s a message from Jez.
But it’s not.
Oh, it’s from J, all right. But as I read it, I get a dark, twisting feeling in my gut.
Sorry I missed our date. Work blew up and I had to fly to Dallas. Rain check?
J
I read it twice, just to make sure that the bourbon isn’t making me hallucinate.
But, no. The message is clear. J—the woman I was all set to meet here tonight—isn’t in Austin. She’s two hundred miles away.
Which means that she didn’t show.
Which means that Jez isn’t J.
Which means that I have no idea who Jezebel Stuart is.
And I damn sure don’t know what the hell we spent the evening talking about.
Grab your copy here: Lovely Little Liar
About the Author
J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over one hundred novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
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