Gideon
Date Night
LAYLA
Kofi slips a hand behind my back the moment we step into the bustling restaurant, steering me across the crowded room.
I feel his fingers slide lower, toward my ass, but I anticipate it. Without breaking my smile, I grab his hand and pull it back up to my waist. He doesn’t even seem to notice, too busy surveying the room as if he’s the main attraction.
At the table, he doesn’t pull out my chair for me—surprise!—instead plunking himself down before I even have a chance. Strike one.
When the waitress approaches, a young woman with tired eyes, Kofi waves her off impatiently. “Just water for now, and make it snappy. I’ve had a long day.” He doesn’t even look at her as he speaks. Strike two.
She returns a few minutes later, pen poised over her pad. Before I can open my mouth to order the steak I always get here, Kofi jumps in.
“She’ll have the leafy greens salad. And I’ll have the New York strip, medium rare.”
What an asshole! Strike three, and we haven’t even received our entrees yet.
But I can’t just get up and leave; I have to endure this.
Honestly, what does my mom see in him?
To no one’s surprise, Sarah and I did not find our husbands at last night’s party. We did, however, end up giggling about nearly being caught. It had been terrifying in the moment, but what a rush!
Maybe I’ll break the rules more often.
This morning, though, I woke up to find that my mother had dragged me into yet another blind date. That gives me less of a rush. Maybe the opposite of one.
When my sister-in-law Carmen knocked on the bathroom door half an hour ago to summon me out to meet my latest match, I would have preferred it to be the Grinch than who I found standing on the other side.
Her friend’s son Kofi.
I take a long drink from my red wine and try to mentally prepare myself for the night I have to endure.
“You look beautiful tonight, Layla,” he says, and his eyes slide down to my chest. “You always look beautiful.”
Goddess, help me. I suppress a groan.
The date continues.
My fork pushes around the sad pile of leafy greens on my plate, a painful comparison to the juicy steak in front of Kofi.
I eye his plate, wondering if I can snag a piece without him noticing. He’s too busy talking about himself to probably even register.
He’s gross, but my mom and grandmother are convinced he’s my future mate. I’ve told them over and over to stop their incessant quest to set me up, but it only seems to make them more insistent.
I’m only half-werewolf—my mom is a human—so when I was born, no one knew if I’d be able to find a mate like a normal werewolf. And after twenty-two years with no sign of him, I think it’s fair to say he’s not coming.
Mates are overrated, really.
If only I could convince my heart of that.
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll be alone forever, no matter what my mom says. And judging by Kofi’s current topic of conversation, he can probably say the same for himself.
“And then, she just packed up her bags and left!” Kofi declares, gesturing wildly with his fork, a piece of steak threatening to fly across the table.
“Can you believe it? I mean, all I asked was for her to lose a few pounds. Just a little. A healthy request, right? But no, she said I was ‘controlling’ and ‘body-shaming’ her. Women are so dramatic, aren’t they?”
He shakes his head, as if genuinely perplexed by the irrationality of his ex-girlfriend. I, on the other hand, can practically hear her perfectly reasonable response ringing in my ears. I just nod vaguely, though.
He continues, oblivious. “And my last girlfriend? She was always complaining about my ‘busy schedule.’ Like it’s my fault I’m a man of ambition. She said I never made time for her. What a clingy mess.
“I told her, ‘Honey, if you want a man who’s going to be at your beck and call, you should date a golden retriever.’ She just didn’t understand that a guy needs his space.” He chuckles, pleased with his own wit.
A man needs his space, but he also needs to dictate his girlfriend’s weight and complain about her needing attention? I roll my eyes internally. It’s transparently obvious that every single one of his exes had perfectly legitimate reasons to leave him.
As he starts to badmouth his third ex—Grace—my mind begins to drift, back to the gala last night, to the tall, six-foot adonis I’d ogled from the window. He hadn’t seemed happy with his date either, the beautiful brunette in the matching gown.
I look at Kofi, then try to replace his smug face with the tall man’s chiseled features.
What would it be like, sitting across from him? What did he look like up close, with those sharp cheekbones and sun-streaked hair? Even from a distance, he was absolutely stunning.
A man like that could talk about himself all day, and maybe I wouldn’t mind. I wanted to know everything about him anyway.
My daydream is abruptly shattered as Kofi’s elbow catches his wine glass, sending a cascade of red wine sloshing across the table. I quickly push my chair back, narrowly avoiding a crimson stain on my dress.
The waitress rushes over, and we share an exasperated look that every girl knows too well.
***
After a mind-numbing date, we finally leave the restaurant. Kofi drapes his arm across my shoulder, and I want to shrug it off and punch him in the gut.
“I had a really great time tonight, Layla,” Kofi says after he stops the car in front of my house.
Oh, I’m sure he did.
He’s been talking nonstop, mostly about himself, for the entire night. But I didn’t mind it, really. It made things easy for me.
All I had to do was supply an appropriate response while he was talking. Stuff like “Uh-huh,” “Oh, really,” “Wow,” “Okay,” and “Interesting.”
“You’re such a great listener, Layla,” he continues, his teeth glowing in the dark.
I wonder what tooth whitener he uses… “Uh-huh.”
“The other girls sure don’t measure up to you.”
“Oh, really?” I reply, still only half listening.
“I like someone who’s not easy. Someone classy but shy, who plays hard to get, ya know?” He’s looking at me meaningfully. “I can tell that beneath that ice queen act, you really like me.”
Wait. What?
“So, you can quit the act now. You’ve got my attention, girl. I know you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you. You’re the one for me.”
Oh Goddess, that sounds like a super bad, cheesy song.
I want to tell him off, but I can’t for fear of my mom’s wrath. So, I end up staring up at him, worrying my bottom lip as I try to think of what to say.
He suddenly swoops in, and I turn my face just in time so his lips smash on my cheek. At the same moment, my hand curves around the door handle and flicks it free.
“Well, I had a great time, bye!” I scramble out of the car like my ass is on fire.
I continue to grumble as I push the key forcefully into the lock. With my other hand, I wipe my cheek. Asshole drooled on me.
As soon as I get inside, I’ve barely thrown my keys down when my phone starts to ring in my handbag. I glance at the caller ID, groan, and answer as I reach the top of the stairs.
“Mom, I literally just got back. Can I not have five minutes to myself?!”
“You can have five minutes later. Tell me how it went.”
I kick off my heels, sending them skittering across the hardwood floor as I enter my bedroom. “It was awful, Mom. Just. Awful.” I pull my dress over my head, huffing as it clings to my body.
“He’s completely obsessed with himself. All he did was talk about his exes and how they were the problem, not him. And he ordered for me, Mom! He ordered me a salad! You know how much I love steak!”
I toss my dress onto the bed in a crumpled heap.
“Layla, honestly! Is that all you can focus on? He’s a gamma, a respected member of the pack! You need to mate with someone, and Kofi would be perfect for you!” Her voice is rising, a familiar lecture brewing.
I plop down onto my bed, pulling off my tights with a frustrated yank. “Mom, I’m not interested in romance right now. I want to focus on my photography.” My voice sounds whiny even to my own ears. I stand up to pull on my comfy sweatpants.
“Photography? Layla, be realistic! That’s a hobby, not a career. You’ll be stuck cleaning forever if you don’t find a mate. What kind of future is that?”
I collapse onto the mattress, burying my face in a pillow. “It’s my future, Mom.”
A long, exasperated sigh comes through the phone. “All right, all right, I’m hanging up. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I don’t doubt Kofi’s mother will regale me with his side of the story.”
Side of the story?!Like I would lie about how incompetent that man is at dating.
But the line is already dead.
I throw my phone onto the mattress, roll over onto my stomach, and let out a muffled squeal into my pillow. This is my life.
My phone buzzes on the blanket. I grab it, expecting a text from Dad about respecting my mother’s wishes, and instead see something equally unwelcome. My boss has just texted me.
Oh Goddess, this is it. They found the Superman bralette at the mansion. They discovered the half-assed job Sarah and I did with the cleaning.
Beth’s going to fire me. My mom was right—I wouldn’t be stuck cleaning forever, because I’m about to lose that job too.
But when I open the text, I find I’m not fired. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Beth
I need you to cover a high-priority shift tomorrow. The client was impressed with your work at the mansion last night. Wants you to do their place too.
I’m taken aback.
Impressed? How? Why? Sarah and I did a lousy job. We barely touched the bathrooms except to throw some bleach down the toilets.
Nobody came upstairs while we were cleaning, either. By the time we left, the party was long over and most guests were gone.
Beth doesn’t need to know that, though.
Layla
What about Sarah? She was there too.
Beth
Sarah’s booked. It’s just you.
Layla
Okay. Who’s the client?
Beth
Someone important. That’s all you need to know.
Beth
You’re cleaning his penthouse.
Continue to the next chapter of Gideon