48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of Shaving Cream

25

Run into a wall

of shaving-cream-covered man.

Turns into a date.

T he next day, Brenn and I were walking toward the food court for a late lunch. He didn’t say a word as I shared the details of my evening. I told him how nice Hunter had been, how delicious the food was, and how special the ballet had been.

I hesitated, running my fingers down the smooth leather of my purse strap. I shifted to the right and hoisted my backpack firmly back onto my shoulder. “He asked me to go to Paris with him for the weekend. He was going to fly us there in a private jet, stay at a five-star hotel, and take me to the ballet there.”

“You immediately said ‘hell no,’ right?”

Umm, not so much.

How was I going to explain this one? The truth, just stick with the truth, Ads.

I took a shallow breath and focused on our shoes as they pounded on the uneven brick walkway. “Not exactly, Brenn. I thought about it—for a minute, I was going to say yes. How can a person pass up a trip to Paris?” I wrapped my arms around my waist, grabbing my elbows as I stopped and looked up at him. “But when I got to the table and looked at him, I knew I couldn’t do it. He was going to expect something that I wasn’t willing to give. I don’t think that I’ll be seeing Hunter again.”

Brenn’s face turned red as the path below our feet. “Darn right, you will not go out with him again.” He exhaled deeply as he stopped.

He reached out and touched my bent elbow. “How could you even consider something like that? After all, you have been through since your dad died?”

I shook off his hand, ignoring the warmth left behind. Lifting my index finger to his chest, I said through a clenched jaw, “Where do you...? You have no right to tell me what to do in that department.”

“Adelaide Ann, you know me better than that.” Brenn shook his head and raised his arms in a what-gives gesture.

“Maybe I don’t, Brenn Rory.” I felt my body stiffen, and my lips pull into a tight line.

Brenn’s eyes flew open wide as his arms dropped to his side. He opened and closed his mouth several times.

Was I overreacting? Yes, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, so I turned and huffed away. I left him open-mouthed and staring at my back. As I walked away, my eyes squinted together so hard I could barely see the path in front of me.

What had just happened?

Brick pavers turned to grass, and my steps quickened. I needed to get away. I hadn’t gone more than fifty steps when I ran smack into a wall of shaving cream.

The wall grabbed my arm, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I looked up as I tried to wipe away the shaving cream, humor replacing the anger that was dripping off. I had walked right into the middle of a shaving cream battle between several of the Greeks on our campus. The shaving cream wall was staring at me. I laughed as the eyes peered out at me from the mass of white foam.

Teeth appeared in the form of a grin, and the wall spoke again. “I’m Eric, by the way. And I am sorry we had to meet like this. Let me take you out to dinner tonight to make up for it. I promise I clean up real nice.”

“Adelaide. And I bet you do.” I snorted at his frat boy charm.

“So that’s a yes?” he asked with a devilish grin.

I nodded despite my NO FRAT GUYS rule. I could change the rules if I wanted to. Nobody could tell me not to. A little part of me hoped Brenn was watching all this go down. Served him right.

“Awesome, wait here,” he commanded as he ran to a line of towels and backpacks. He wiped his hands clean and grabbed a phone and a fresh towel before running back to where I was.

“Here, take this.” He handed me the towel.

“Thanks.” I took it and cleaned off the remaining shaving cream.

“I’ve got to finish this game, but let me get your number before you go.”

I typed in the numbers.

“That’s the real one, right?”

I laughed. “Yeah, it’s the real one.”

He grinned. “Meet me at El Torero tonight at seven PM. Dinner’s on me.”

That’s when he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek with his shaving cream-covered face before he ran off in a flash.

I put a shocked hand up to my face and smirked. He was a frat boy. I wiped off the rest of the shaving cream and placed the towel near where I saw him pick up the phone.

I glanced over at the field. Eric waved, and I waved back, his friends catcalling in a way that indicated they were already aware of our date. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that I was going to show up, but I was sure that if I did, we would have a good time.

No one was home when I got back to the apartment. There was a note saying the girls would be out for the rest of the night. I texted Brenn.

Me

Sorry

He didn’t text back. I saw the three dots appear and disappear three times before I decided to meet Eric, the frat boy, for dinner that night.

When I arrived, a pitcher of margaritas and a basket of chips with salsa sat on the hand-painted tile table.

“Hey, you’re here,” Eric said. “I wasn’t sure if you would show.”

I nodded as I sat down on the bright blue chair. I turned and hung my purse on the finial at the top of the seat, noticing the brightly colored flags popping out from the tortilla yellow paint. When my eyes met Eric’s, I shrugged and said, “I had to see if you cleaned up nice.”

The corners of his mouth turned up wickedly. “What’s the verdict?”

I drank in his form-fitting button-down shirt, which revealed a muscular chest beneath. I admired his chiseled jaw, tanned skin, and wavy brown hair. Something familiar laced his brown eyes as I settled on them. I placed my elbows on the uneven table and folded my hands. “Yeah, you clean up nice.”

“So do you,” he offered as he leaned in, mirroring my arm’s placement. “Tell me more about you, Adelaide. What’s your major?”

“I’m in Wildlife and Ecology Management. What about you?” I grabbed a chip and dipped it in the salsa.

“Business. Tell me something about you that only your friends know.” His eyes attempted to pierce me.

I laughed. “You are direct, aren’t you?” I raised the napkin and pretended to wipe my lips to buy some time.

“Yeah, I take after my dad. I know what I like, and when I see it, I go after it.” He winked as he grabbed a chip and ate it in one bite.

Why did that sound familiar?

The waiter arrived, and Eric waved him off with a we’ll-be-ready-in-a-minute gesture. “Tell me one of your secrets.”

“Hmm... I am a big fan of fairy tales.”

“Not really a secret. Every girl wants to be the princess in her own real-life fairy tale.”

I nodded as I took a sip of my water.

“I dig that. I can be the prince you are looking for; just don’t expect the white horse. However, I drive a white BMW M4. Does that count for you?” He raised his eyebrows.

I winked—two can play this game. “Yeah, that counts.” I grabbed a chip and broke it into three pieces, slowly putting one in my mouth.

Eric stared at me as he inhaled quickly. “If you don’t reveal your secrets, tell me something shocking about you, Adelaide.” Eric grinned mischievously as he poured me a margarita and refilled his glass.

“I’ve been on twenty-seven first dates.”

“So, do you date a lot?” Eric lifted his hands in a who-cares gesture before grabbing another chip and dipping it into the salsa.

I have no idea why, but his nonchalance made me want to clarify the current status of my dating life. “Not too much lately. But last semester, I went on a boatload of first dates thanks to my friends getting me on the Royal Swype app.” I said as I played with the edge of the tablecloth.

Eric’s face fell. “You’re on Royal Swype?”

“Yeah.” My fingers stilled as I wondered why he would care.

“And have you swiped up a guy named Hunter Lambert?” Eric asked as he leaned back.

“Yeah, how did you... do you know him?” I responded, feeling my eyebrows pinch together at his left-field question.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not going to deal with my dad’s leftovers.” Eric threw his napkin on the table and stood up so fast that his chair fell over. The surrounding restaurant suddenly became suspiciously silent.

“What?” My brain was catching up. My breath caught. “Wait, you’re Hunter’s son?” I should have seen the resemblance sooner.

“Yeah, he’s my father. And I know exactly what he’s looking for on that app. I see a new version of you every weekend when I visit him.” Eric’s lips curled as he picked up his chair.

“Nothing happened between us. I walked away,” I said, defending myself quietly.

“Sure, Pinocchio, might want to check your nose on that one,” Eric responded with a sharp look. “The truth is, I don’t care what your side of the story is. That you went out with my dad tells me all I need to know. Nice knowing you.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone at a table with everyone staring at me. That’s when I noticed he had left the pitcher of margaritas he had ordered.

This shouldn’t go to waste…

I poured some into my glass and raised a toast to all the staring folks. Everyone looked away as I took a big gulp.