Regardless of what she’d intended to be an intimidating pose, his gaze traveled down the length of her body and back up again, stopping at her chest once more. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she sucked in a deep breath and internally yelled at herself for seeing something she knew wasn’t there.
There was no way in hell Padraig was looking at her with such naked desire. She was misreading his expression, just like she had his actions in her bedroom.
Wishful thinking.
As always.
But when his expression didn’t change, she struggled to find another way to describe it.
“I don’t think—” she started.
“It’s perfect. You look gorgeous. Sexy.” Then his face changed and this time, it was easy to read. He was scowling. “Actually, you might be right. Maybe we should find something a little less revealing.”
“Nope. Too late, Dad,” she teased. “You said gorgeous and sexy, so this is the outfit.”
He looked like he wanted to continue to protest, but she merely raised one eyebrow, letting him know that argument would be pointless.
“So what’s the plan for Wednesday’s date? Another coffee meetup at Layla’s shop?”
She shook her head. “Happy hour at a small bar near the waterfront with the guy Caitlyn’s setting me up with. According to Lucas, he’s nice, smart, funny, good-looking. I’m hoping this one goes better than the first.”
Padraig nodded slowly. “You really think it was the outfit that messed up your date with that last guy?”
Emmy shrugged. “I don’t know. I was thinking about it last night, and in truth, after I thought I saw that brief moment of disappointment in his eyes when we introduced ourselves, I dropped the ball on the rest. The conversation was awkward and uncomfortable. All we managed to cover was the weather—so lame—and what TV shows we liked to watch. And even those two topics felt like pulling teeth. Small talk is not my forte.”
“You make small talk with me all the time,” he said.
“Yeah, but you’re easy to talk to. You have that master’s degree in bartending that ensures you know all the right things to say.”
“Yeah, that’s me. A regular scholar.” He chuckled at her jest. “Hey, you know what. Maybe we should practice.”
“Practice?” she asked.
“Yeah. Let’s pretend you and I are just meeting and this is our first date. We can go through the whole thing, beginning to end.”
Emmy thought that was the world’s worst idea. She was barely managing to pretend she was okay with just being Padraig’s friend. If he started acting like a would-be suitor, it would set her back at square one.
Then she grimaced.
Who was she fooling? She was still on square one.
“That’s okay. I don’t think—” She started to refuse.
“When’s the last time you went on a date?”
“Four years ago.”
Padraig’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. “That’s a long time. Who was the guy?”
“Someone my dad worked with. He set it up a few months after my mom died. Dad was concerned that I’d started to prefer the company of the characters in my books to that of real people. My teachers at school used to think I was shy, but I’m not uncomfortable around people. I just tend to live in my head a little bit too much sometimes. I think Dad was worried I’d disappear into myself and never come back out again.”
“Well, we can’t have that. I like having you out here in the real world with me too much. So order the pizza and I’ll fill up our drinks,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. “Then it’s practice date time.”
Emmy could tell he wasn’t going to let her off the hook. He was determined to help her, his gesture very sweet and totally Padraig. He’d always been a good friend, and he’d never—not once—led her on or made her believe they could be more.
Nope. All those messed-up feelings were her fault, and hers alone.
“Fine,” she said, firing up the app to order pizza. “Though I’m telling you right now, I would never order pizza on a first date. Too messy, too greasy, and there’s no sexy way to eat it.”
“You could eat pizza, fried chicken, corn on the cob, hot dogs, or whatever other food you find unsexy in that shirt, and no man would complain. Ever,” Padraig said as he popped the top on another beer and filled up her wineglass, even though she’d only taken a couple of sips. “Although, now that I think about it. Hot dogs, considering how you do it, aren’t really—”
She smacked him on the arm before he could finish his joke. “Give me my wine, you pervert.”
With dinner on the way, Padraig walked back into her living room, proclaiming it was now Emmy’s Restaurant. Then he told her to go back to her bedroom and walk in again so they could start the pretend date from the very beginning.
She felt silly leaving and coming back. Until she reentered the room and Padraig looked at her with those dark brown eyes of his, his gaze taking in every inch of her again, and leaving her with that sense of being…desired.
“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Emmy Martin.”
“Padraig Collins,” he said, taking her outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He gestured for her to sit. She started to claim the chair, leaving him the couch, but he still had a grip on her hand, so he used it to direct her to sit next to him. “Pretend it’s a booth,” he murmured.
“And we’re sitting on the same side of it?” she asked incredulously.
“Stay in character, Em. So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a writer,” she said. “Romance. And trust me, that is not an invitation for you to send me a dick pic,” she added with a laugh.
One Padraig didn’t share. “Guys are sending those to you?” There was no mistaking from the angry tone that he was no longer playing the game.
She shrugged. “A few. And I obviously blocked them on the app after that. I was just joking around, Paddy. It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m not sure this online dating is a good idea. Might not be safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. I block the creeps, message with the nice ones for a few weeks to feel them out, and I’m only setting up dates where I meet the men in public.”
“After Wednesday’s date, why don’t you wait until the pub reopens before you go on any more. You can meet the guys there where I can keep an eye on you.”
She shook her head. “Hell no! I don’t even want to think about you, your dad, your uncles, and your Pop Pop hovering around, giving my date the evil eye. I’ve heard the horror stories from Sunnie and Darcy, so I know how you all are.”
“You need someone to look after you since your brother isn’t around.”
Emmy snorted. “Sam wasn’t around enough for us to ever get very close, and I would never use the word overprotective to describe him. Though one time, he…he came through for me.”
“What’s that mean?”
Emmy hadn’t told anyone about the last time she’d seen her brother, mainly because at the time, there hadn’t been anyone to tell.