Mine to Steal (Mine to Love) (21 page)

“Hot ones are always crazy, and the crazy ones are the best fucks.”

“I’ll give her your number then,” I warn.

* * *

After the disastrous “date” with Logan earlier, I sent Kayla a text and told her I was out. Her response was short.

Kayla: Callie. 27. Model. Meet at Posh @ 6pm

I stared at the text for a minute, mulling over my decision not to go, but ultimately choosing to see it through.
Who am I to turn down dinner with a model?

“Who’s bachelorette number two?” Jett asks when I walk in after taking a jog.

“Model.”

“Lucky bastard,” he groans. “What time you heading out?”

“Meeting her at six, so I’ll head out in about an hour.”

“I’ll make myself scarce then - you owe me.”

“I owe you for leaving me my own apartment?” I scoff as I head into my room to shower. “Thanks,” I mutter to myself as I shut the door behind me.

I’m not sure what kind of model Callie is, but if
it makes Jett jealous, it works for me. I’ve been to
Posh
before, and I know the attire most of their patrons wear. I wish Kayla had selected something a little more casual, but she didn’t, which leaves me the option of slacks or
slacks
.

I’m in no rush, hell, I have plenty of time. My bed is calling to me, I’d love to sleep the rest of the day away and forego the
last date, but instead, I check my email from my phone and see three new messages. Fortunately, they’re all easy to answer, so I send out quick responses before I have to get cleaned up. Reclining on my bed, I think of all the excuses I could make to cancel meeting Callie, but the model runs through my head again, and it’s enough motivation to get me moving.

While the shower begins to steam, I have enough time to shave the afternoon scruff off my face. I need to leave in thirty minutes, but
it shouldn’t be a problem since it takes me no more than fifteen minutes to get dressed anyway. I look in my closet and grab my clothes.

Slacks it is.

Black straight leg pants and a white button-down will have to be enough. It’s the same thing I wear to work every day, so it’ll be fine. Most men in
Posh
wear a tie, but I’ll wear a coat and forego the work noose. I grab my wallet off the dresser and tuck it into my pocket before checking my appearance in the mirror.
As good as it’s going to get.

When I walk out of my room, Jett is in the same place I left
him; only he’s talking to someone. This saves me from having to listen to his
advice
before I leave. I hurry to grab my keys and open the door to walk out.

“Wrap it, Bro. You’re not ready for kids yet.”

I roll my eyes and shut the door, not giving him the satisfaction of a response.

Date #2 ~ Callie

Kayla made the reservations at
Posh
and put them under my name. The hostess stand is busy, so I stand back and wait my turn to get to the front. There is an attractive brunette speaking loudly to the girl behind the desk, and it’s clear she’s giving her a hard time.

“I’ve been waiting five minutes. I have reservations to meet someone a
t six. And guess what, it’s six,” she says in a tone more rude than necessary.

Please don't let this be Callie.
It’s a silent plea, but one I’m sure won’t be answered.

“I’m sorry ma’am. They’re clearing the table right now. We had an early rush.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. What’s the point of making reservations if it’s not ready when you get here?” she asks, demanding an answer.

“I understand your frustration, ma’am, and they’re working fast to get the tables ready. What name is
the reservation under again?”

“Trey
Miller.”

Upon hearing my name,
I’m tempted to slink out the way I came, but I step forward to save the hostess from any further verbal lashes from the hostile beauty. I begin coming up with ways to plot revenge against my
friend
Kayla.
What in the hell was she thinking?

“You must be Callie
.” I move next to her and watch her eyes look me up and down. She closes her mouth and swallows hard before plastering on an overexcited smile.

“Trey?”

“That would be me. It’s nice to meet you.” I turn my attention to the hostess, whose tag reads Beth, and give her a smile that I hope she takes for the silent apology it is. “Beth, we’ll be at the bar when our table is ready.”

“Yes, sir.” She nods and gives me a small smile in return.

Callie walks to the bar, swaying her hips as she walks, and I have to admit, she’s very sexy. But it stops at her physical appearance. I’m going to try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but based on how she treated the hostess, I’m not impressed.

We find a place to sit
, and she hops into one of the barstools and crosses her legs before turning to give me her attention. “Kayla tells me you own your own business. What do you do?”

“That’s right. I have a marketing and public relations firm. What about you?” I know she’s a model, but I want to give her the chance to talk about
herself. She seems offended by my question. “What is it you do?” I clarify, to see if it eases the scowl from her face.

“I- I mean,” she stammers
. “I’m a model,” she finishes with a matter-of-fact tone; she glances down at her own body before meeting my eyes again. I suppose she is offended by the question because she says it as if it should be plain as day. But I have seen gorgeous women who are exactly that - gorgeous women - not models.

A bartender approaches and makes no move to hide his obvious appreciation for her attractive features. Hell, she’s got her cleavage on display for everyone to enjoy, not that I’m complaining. He takes our orders
, and she basks in the attention he gives her until he walks away. She swivels back to face me, and the slight scowl returns.

“I meant, what kind of model are you?”
If I thought it would have pissed her off, I wouldn't have asked.

“Really?”

I smile and try to change tactics.
Get through the night
.

“There are so many different types of models, right? I’m sure you could be any number.”

Callie softens and rewards me for the compliment with a beaming smile.
Ego
. “I do some runway modeling, but mostly I do ads for makeup and hair.”

The bartender places our drinks in front of us
, and I hand him my card to charge it. He looks at Callie, waiting for her to acknowledge him, but since my compliment, her attention belongs to me alone. He walks away with deflated posture not knowing the bullet he dodged with this one.

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since I was eighteen. I do a lot of traveling, but my favorite place to shoot is in New York.”

“Excuse me, sir. Your
table is ready.” The hostess timidly approaches us and smiles, but Callie frowns and turns her nose up at her. I close out my bar tab, and we follow Beth to the table. She hands us our menus. “Leah will be your server tonight. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Beth.”

When she’s out of earshot, Callie leans forward and narrows her eyes at me. “I was waiting here for five minutes, and they didn’t have the table ready. And that girl was no help.”

She stare
s at me, waiting for a response but I raise a brow in question. “It’s not like she did it on purpose.”

“I can see why she’s working in a restaurant,” she laments as she glances to her menu.

“Excuse me?” I have to ask her to repeat herself. Surely she didn’t mean it the way it sounds, because to me, it sounds like she’s looking down on someone who is trying to do her job.

“I mean
if she had it together she wouldn’t be seating tables, now would she?”

“Maybe she’s a student and is working to pay for school or
have extra money to have fun. Hell, maybe she’s trying to help support her family. You have no idea what someone’s life is like by looking at them or what they do.”

Her jaw drops open and eyes widen, “Are you calling me stuck up?”

“I don’t know you well enough to make that assumption. Although, one could make certain ones, based on the fact you’re a model, but it wouldn’t be fair. Now would it?”

Callie openly gapes at me like I’ve lost my mind. She reaches for her glass
, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to be wearing the cocktail she ordered. Instead, she chugs what’s left and slams the glass down onto the table.

“You’re an asshole.”

Calmly, I nod while I look at the other guests who are beginning to stare before finally fixing my eyes on her.

“I’m sure some people would agree with you, but do you really know me well enough to make that call?”
I cock my head to the side and wait for her answer.

I can’t help but provoke her because she is a pretentious snob. In the short time we’ve been here, she’s insulted the wait staff, flirted with the bartender and acts as if the world owes her adoration.

“I just remembered I’m allergic to douchebags. I better go before I break out in hives.” She stands up in a huff and grabs her purse.

She walks away
, and I can’t help but laugh.
That was pretty clever.

The waitress comes over to take my order and
notices the empty seat and points. “Are we waiting for someone?” She must have missed the little show that took place, or she’s purposely ignoring it.

“Must have been something I said,” I say with a shrug. She takes my order and when it comes out, I eat alone and don’t mind at all. I’d rather eat alone than with a
small-minded person; I don’t care how sexy she was.

An hour later, I arrive home to an empty apartment and realize the night’s still young. I guess I have time to look over the second promo I started last night. My computer is turning on when a text alert comes through on my phone.

Shit. Kayla is going to cuss me out.
Although I’m beginning to question her judgment in friends based on the setup with Callie.

Faith: How was the marathon dating today?

Me: You don’t want to know

Faith: That good?

Me: Yeah. Great times

Faith: I checked my schedule. Monday after work is good. See you then?

Me: Sounds good

My plan is to spend the rest of the night working so I can end the day on a somewhat productive note.

“Shit,” I groan to myself. “More of the same tomorrow.”

Kayla: Winter. 24. Publicist. Meet at @ 11am. Dress casual. Very casual.

Me: Is that a name or a season?

Kayla: You’ll see. I’ll text address in a bit.

Date #3 ~
Winter

The thing I love about weekends is
that I get to spend the day outside and go hiking. I wasn’t lying to Cavette before when I told him I’m out every weekend. It’s my downtime, and I enjoy being alone. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share it with, but I haven’t been searching for that addition to my life, and I don’t feel as though I’m missing out. At least not until it’s pointed out to me.

With this ‘marathon’ dating, as Faith refers to it, I haven’t had much time to do anything but the quick two
-mile jog yesterday. My plan to remedy this is the early five-mile run this morning. It’s only seven, so I have more than enough time to run, shower, and dress before I meet Winter. I feel cold thinking about the name.

Who names their kid
Winter?

Jett is at the counter eating a bowl of dry cereal when I emerge ready to get the hell out and do something. “Going for a run. Wanna go?”

He whines and puts his hand to his head. “Can you
not
speak so loud?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shout louder than necessary. “Are you hung over?” I enunciate every word, louder for each one.

“Dick,” he whispers in pain before sitting upright and eyeing my room. “Where’s the model?”

“You said you weren’t going to be home last night, so there was nothing quiet about it. You didn’t hear her?” My eyes are wide with shock that he didn’t hear a sound.

He leans back and nods his head in appreciation before he claps his hands together in one loud snap. The noise must hurt everything about him because he recoils in an instant.

I grab a bottle of water and laugh
. “Just kiddin, didn’t work out.”

“You really do suck, you know that?”

There’s no arguing with him because models are the pinnacle of the dating pool to him. I stick the buds in my ear and start the music before heading out. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

Traffic isn’t too heavy this morning and this leaves me with a dilemma, run on the trails or the street?