Island Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (The Kisses Series Book 9) (2 page)

T
his was a predictably
terrible first date.

I couldn't have been more pleased.

I checked my watch and sighed, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom so I could go home and write everything down about our horrible date.

Granted, he hadn't thrown up on me, no one had been mugged, my car was its original color, I didn't need a new haircut, and my shoes were still intact, so it wasn't going to make my list of Top Five Worst Dates Ever, but it was not going well.

Which suited me just fine.

First, he was late. He claimed parking trouble, but as I had found a spot in about thirty seconds and could see at least two spots from our table, I had a hard time believing that. I wouldn't have been as mad if he had just owned up to leaving late rather than making lame excuses.

He then spent the entire time talking about nothing but his
very
important job as mail clerk for a
very
important legal firm. Apparently, he was absolutely indispensable to the company, despite the fact that he'd worked there for three years and hadn't moved up the ranks at all. But, according to him, he was due for a promotion any day now.

Throw in the fact that he still lived with his mother, was staring openly at my chest, and his unwashed hair, it was the perfect example of a bad date. I was almost glad I couldn't seem to get a word in edgewise, as the more he talked, the more I was amazed at how bad our date was going.

I'd already learned six of his coworker's names and their entire work history before he gave me the opportunity to say what I did for a living. The moment really only came because he was too busy adding an entire block of cheese to his salad. When I brought up that I was a writer, he asked if I wrote those super popular vampire books. I said no, and he honestly had looked disappointed.

Yup, because an author that rich and famous with tons of Hollywood contacts would be using a free dating service and going to overpriced strip-mall Italian restaurants on a Wednesday night
, I had wanted to say. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and just ate my salad instead. He went back to talking about the mail cart. I didn't mention that I didn't write books but that I wrote a successful dating blog and magazine articles instead.

It wasn't like I was going to get to say anything about it, let alone tell him my real writing dreams. Unless my boobs started talking, he wasn't interested in anything I had to say.

There was no chemistry, and, now, absolutely no conversation.

Well, it's hard to have a conversation when he spends the entire time in the bathroom,
I thought to myself, checking my watch. So far he was at just over fifteen minutes in there. I understood that when you got to go, you got to go, but seriously? A first date at a nice Italian restaurant was not the place, especially when the check was sitting on the table.

“Anything else for you, miss?” the waiter asked, glancing at my date's empty seat and the equally empty check holder. I was ready to go home, and willing to pay to do it.

“Nope.” I pulled out my credit card and handed it to him. “Just put it all on there.”

At least that would let me get out of this stupid restaurant and go home. Mr. Bathroom, as I was going to call him in my next blog entry, needed to be written about. Even though the date had been terrible, at least I was going to get a good blog entry out of it. The fans of my blog, Never After Dates, would at least be entertained.

My torture was their entertainment.

I looked down at my watch again as the waiter dropped the check back with me. Nineteen minutes.

Don't worry, Dude
, I telepathically said toward the men's bathroom,
I already got the check. You can come back now.

As soon as he came back, I was out of here. I signed the check, noticing that he had ordered the lobster ravioli which cost twice what my spinach tortellini did. My credit card company was sure going to love me.

You'll just have to wait on those new shoes a few more weeks
, I told myself.
Or write something really, really good.

I didn't mind paying. I'm all for equal opportunity in the dating world. What irked me was that I wasn't asked about it. When he suggested we go to Luigi's, I had offered to go somewhere a little less pricey, but he had insisted.

Now, I could see why he had. He was the one getting the free meal.

I scowled as I signed the check with a flourish. My blog was relatively successful, but I was just squeaking by with my bills. I didn't need an eighty dollar bill out of nowhere when I normally had everything budgeted down to the last nickel.

I closed the check holder just as my date returned. He strolled up casually, as if he hadn't just missed over twenty minutes of our date by hiding in the bathroom. His hands weren't even damp. Either he took so long because he was drying them, didn't use the bathroom at all, or,
ew.
..

“Thanks for getting that. Money's a little tight for me,” Mr. Bathroom said, settling into his chair and taking a sip of his yellow soda. “How'd you like the food here?”

“It was as good as I've heard,” I replied. I was trying not to be angry. If money was tight, we should have gone anywhere but Luigi's. Like I'd asked in the beginning. I stood up and smiled, picking up my purse. “It was nice meeting you, but I need to get going.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you were going to come back to my place. My mom's out bowling tonight.”

I blinked twice, not really sure how to respond to that. Where in the world had he gotten the idea that I was even remotely interested? I'd said all of three words the entire meal!

“Sorry,” I finally managed to get out. “I can't.”

He stared up at me like a lost puppy, but I wasn't about to fall for those eyes. It might work for his mom, but not for me. Especially after footing an eighty dollar meal after asking for a different restaurant. Luckily, he gave up quickly.

“Well, Hannah, it was really nice to meet you.” He didn't get up from the table to offer me a hug or a handshake, and I was glad. I didn't want to touch him since I wasn't sure of the cleanliness of his hands.

“It's Harper. My name is Harper, not Hannah.” I shouldered my purse and took a step back. “Have a great rest of the night.”

“I'll call you!” he yelled out after me through the quiet restaurant. The other patrons all stopped talking and stared as I walked by. Yup. This was a good date.

I simply waved and hurried out the front door as quickly as possible. Mr. Bathroom was going to make a great post for the Never After Dating series. Right up there with Mr. Small-Time Drug Lord and Mr. Ex-Con Drunk.

At least he hadn't puked on me.

* * *

“
H
ey
, I'm on my way,” I told my sister over the phone as I started the car engine. My ancient little Pontiac purred to life and I thanked my lucky stars. Some days she decided to drive like a dream, and on other days she was hell on wheels. Today would have been a terrible day for her not to start. There was no way I was walking back into that restaurant to get a jump start.

“How was the date?” Rosie asked.

“Awful,” I said, pulling out onto the main road. “It'll be great for readers. I really think they're going to eat this one up.”

I could hear her moving around on her end of the phone. “You're the only person I know who gets more excited about bad dates than good ones,” she replied.

“Are you moving stuff around again?” I asked, ignoring her statement.

“No,” she answered defensively before sighing. “Yes. Fine. I'm moving the crib to the other side of the room. I think the draft from the window will make him cold.”

I couldn't help but smile. She was so excited for her first-born child that she had moved that darn crib at least six times in the last week. “You better figure out where to put it soon,” I told her. “You've only got another month to figure it out.”

“Oof-” She was obviously pushing the crib into place. “I know. I can't wait until I don't waddle anymore. I feel like a penguin.”

“A cute penguin,” I said, taking the next turn.

Rosie laughed. “That's what Thomas says, too.” She panted slightly. I was going to have to tell her husband not to let her push that heavy stuff. Not that she'd listen to either of us, but it had to at least be said.

“Okay, well, I'll be there in about five minutes,” I said, pulling off the highway and heading to her place. It was tradition to go see her after a failed date. Rosie had the best perspective and came up with the most epic tag lines for the blog entries.

“Oh good, you'll be here before Mom leaves,” Rosie replied.

“Mom's there?” I asked. I nearly hit the brakes. It wasn't that I didn't like my mother. I loved her a lot. She just hated my blog, my love prospects, and what I was doing with my life. I could already feel the lecture.

“Is that you, Harper?” My mother's voice took over the phone. “I was just getting ready to go, but I'll wait until you get here. I brought the most adorable thing for the baby. You'll love it.”

“Great, Mom.” I wondered if banging my head against the steering wheel would make the airbag deploy. Then I could at least claim I got in an accident and I wouldn't have to explain to my mother, yet again, what I was doing with my life.

I pulled up to the house, making sure not to block my mother's exit in any way shape or form. I actually even parked on the opposite side of the street, just so that she could get out easier. Anything to help her leave as quickly as possible.

I didn't bother knocking. Thomas turned and waved from the living room as I walked in. He was a nerdy-looking guy, all elbows and knees, but he had a great smile. He wasn't my type, but he made my sister happy, so I loved him.

“Hey, Harper,” he said. “How'd the date go? Awful, I hope?”

“Yup. It was perfectly terrible.” I laughed, pausing by the couch to talk to him. “How's doctoring going? Not awful, I hope?”

He smiled. “I'm here and not at the hospital working, so things are good.”

“Are you on call today?” I was stalling. I knew my mother and sister were in the baby's room, but I wasn't ready to face my mother just yet. Maybe I could just talk to Thomas until she had to leave...

“You can't avoid her forever.” Thomas gave me a meaningful,
I know what you're doing and it's not going to work,
look. “And yes, I'm on call tonight. So don't swallow pennies or any other weird stuff tonight, okay? I want to stay home.”

I chuckled. Thomas was a gastroenterologist at the local hospital. That was how he and Rosie met. Rosie was a radiology technician and the two had fallen in love over a barium x-ray. That was three years ago, and now they were expecting their first child in just a little over a month.

“You sure? Would swallowing pennies get me out of my mother asking me for the upteenth time why my love life is just a bad dates blog?”

Thomas looked thoughtful. “Nope. She'd probably just gown up and keep talking the whole way through your exam. And then she'd try and set you up with the first male nurse that walked in the door.”

I shook my head and chuckled. That would be exactly what my mother would do.

“Harper?” My mother had heard us.

“On my way.” I looked at Thomas. “If you hear screaming, don't come in. Just be prepared to help bury a body.”

“Yours or hers?” Thomas asked.

“I'm not sure. It depends on who grabs the lamp first.”

“Okay,” Thomas agreed. “Just don't use the cute baby elephant lamp. I like that one.”

“No baby elephant lamp, got it.”

I started walking to the baby's room, feeling my shoulders tense up. I told myself to stop it. Maybe this time Mom wouldn't comment. Maybe this time she'd just show me whatever cute baby thing she'd found. Maybe she wouldn't bring up the fact that my younger sister had a real job, a husband, and a baby, while I was writing fluff pieces and wasting my life.

Maybe.

“There you are, Harper,” my mom said as I walked into the baby's room. “I was beginning to think you forgot where the baby's room was.”

“Nope, just talking to the baby daddy,” I replied, going to give my sister and mother each a hug. “So, what did you bring?”

“Isn't it adorable?” My mother held up a little onesie with suspenders and a bow tie printed on it. To be fair, it was absolutely adorable. “I got one with a little tie, too.”

I took the small outfit into my hands and studied it. It was so tiny. And cute. My nephew was going to be freaking adorable and the best dressed baby this side of the Atlantic.

“It's perfect,” I replied, handing it off to Rosie. Rosie beamed. She looked amazing, even eight months pregnant. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was only wearing light makeup to accent her brown eyes, but she glowed. People always said we looked alike, and I hoped I looked half as beautiful as she did right now.

“So, when am I going to be able to purchase one of these for you?” Mom's question made my heart sink. We'd made it all of three minutes.

“Mom!” Rosie scolded. “Not cool.”

“I'm just concerned about you, Harper.” Mom pulled out the second onesie and put it on the changing table. “You just don't seem to be going anywhere.”